Monday, February 22, 2010

Design wall blues (and grays and blacks and olives)


I fell in love with a couple Lonni Rossi prints and decided to use them as my guide when choosing the pallette for this pattern, Borealis by Aarvark Quilts. Working in grays, blacks, and olive greens is a challenge, and the paper pieced arcs are time-consuming. I thought I could get this quilt top finished in a week, but my level of frustration keeps taking me away from the project. I must say that I do love the blocks I've finished. I hope that the finished quilt is greater than the sum of its parts.

Back to work!






Monday, February 8, 2010

I’m Back and I’m Ready to ART!

I'm finally settled—both physically and emotionally—have no major problems to solve, no parties to plan, and can focus on being focused. I do not have a paying job. What I intended to do with my time was to develop a style, decide how to market it, and get on the Quilt Trail once we return to the States in Fall 2012 (providing the world is still spinning then).

The question is: Exactly what do I want to do with all this time? Up to now I've been expressing my artistic leaning by playing Farm Town on Facebook. Lying on my death bed I'll look back and note that I had the most average virtual farm in Pixel Land. Two things I don't want to regret: having wasted all my time and being fat. Looks like I'm batting 1.000 in a negative way. That would be all pop flies, I guess.

So what is it I want? I want to sew stuff, artsy fartsy stuff. I also love painting/printing/stamping cloth. What is it about that I love? It's easy. It's messy. It's intuitive: I don't have to know what it's going to be when I'm playing. I just apply paint, experiment with techniques, and see what happens. The results are unique and the fabrics look complex in quilted things.


In a snit and needing an outlet, I got into my stash of painted canvas and muslin last week and started to cut it up. The result was a 9 x 12" journal quilt. The next day I did another one, and a couple of days after that I started a third. The third one took a week, so that makes it a semainal quilt, I guess. I was shocked to see the result.

The first one is the best. I like the diagonals. Teddi says the second quilt's fringe should be somewhere else. I have to agree, but I'm not changing it. I wanted the beads to continue the theme of the circles of the Kaffe Fasset fabric and the placement is supposed to take the right side's organic elements off the page. I think the composition is not balanced, though. Maybe the first tassel/s should be longer. The third piece is a take-off of the quilt I did with Bernie Rowell (Ring Around the Moon). It's predictable if you know me, but I don't think it's trite. The fabric is fascinating. I realize these are journal quilts, sketches. Now that I'm familiar with some new techniques and know what's wrong with the compositions, I'll do something better next time.







Did I use my time wisely? I learned that I need to work in series. I kept using the same fabrics until they were gone and am enjoying the results. I learned that I have to handle the materials and keep rearranging them until something pops out at me since I can't sketch. For example, I could never have sketched my Ghosts of Jerusalem. I just kept playing with the components I created until there was a story in front of me. Is that a bad way to work? I don't think so since it seems to be working for me.

So what will I do with this time I have? I need to use that design wall (check) to arrange materials, make components, morph them into modules, and mush the modules together. My problem is that I need to stop before a piece is over-designed: I think I put too many beads on the semainal quilt. But the good news is they blend in with the background, so you really have to know they're there to see them.


The current pink and purple mess on the design wall has sparkly tulle over some Lonni Rossi tree fabric. I'm wondering about its very rigid composition. The geometry is supposed to balance the organic elements of leaves, trees, and swirls fenced in with stripes and solid cross pieces. I plan to break the fences and let nature swarm out. I've found that either you let nature out or it takes over by rotting what's under it. Story of my life: I'm in the process of ignoring my fences too.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

I'm not complaining, honest, but


I am a tad impatient and can't wait for the fun to start (seriously). However, I’m not having much fun now, this second, this very moment. Fun means working on the apartment and I need to get to the mall to do that. Oh, I can get to the mall by bus, but then getting back with tons of useless junk will be difficult.
I have friends who will drive me there if I'd just call them, but this is a personal quest which may take hours. I need to turn over every label, every price tag. I need to imagine every purchase being useful for exactly 3 years and disposable after that. So, I need a car, MY car, for the adventure. Until it arrives in 2 weeks, I can’t go to the local Home Depot variation for the million household items I could use RIGHT NOW while I’m otherwise unoccupied—waiting before I hurry up in this case. In the interim I’m watching military TV while hand-piecing a quilt I mailed to myself.

The TV programming is dreadful. Think about the intellectual accomplishments of the typical post-adolescent and you have the LCD of family entertainment: Wheel of Fortune, soaps, sports, Roseanne, Fox News, and the original Star Trek. Commercials are all military propaganda. Uplifting. Fortunately we are blessed with losing the satellite signal every 10 minutes or so. Instead I could watch local TV: American shows with Lithuanian voice over. They don’t even mute the English, just yell over it in Lithuanian or Russian (I can’t always tell the difference). One guy does all the voices. It’s priceless and explains a lot of the local alcoholism.

Today I will visit the med unit at the embassy—5 minutes’ walk from our apartment—and be told that I need a vaccination against some kind of encephalitis. They must have extra vaccine that’s about to expire since unemployed spouses are mostly expendable once the employee’s shipment arrives. Our shipment is due in about two weeks (see above) and I wouldn’t be dead before unpacking; ergo there has to be a surplus of meds. After that Mike has promised me a tour of the embassy and to introduce me to his colleagues and to the local hires he supervises. This is especially weird timing since Judith, a great friend who also happens to be the wife of Mike's DOS colleague, is having a BBQ for all of us tonight.

The embassy is the heart of the community and as such, is nearly as important to me as it is to people who work there. It’s where we go in an emergency and where we have many of our community functions. It’s important to know the Marine Guard—they are armed and they are on our side. I can’t meet the people who run these offices by sitting watching Star Trek reruns, and I can’t get into their offices the first time without an escort—there could be trouble if I make a wrong turn while wandering around on my own. So, thanks to the shelf life of surplus meds, I’ll finally meet some of the people who make the embassy work.

Then I must take a detour to the grocery store for dishwasher salt and to check out the sundries aisles for an entrance mat to trap the dirt the dogs love to drag in. The name Lithuania is derived from the local word for rain and with good reason. It’s like Oregon or Washington must be—a little rain all the time, which makes it nice and green. And muddy. I knew I was in trouble when our city tour guide explained that the pediment on the national cathedral featured Noah, et al. (see image above). After that, a nap before our dinner date. Charlotte woke us up at 4 since he walks her before bed didn't squeeze her at the right spot and she didn’t poop on command at 9:30.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Getting Here

Yup, we're in Vilnius. I read about a religious group that sends their young men away for a couple of years of sacrifice so they value their home and family all the more once they return to settle down. Maybe there is a grand plan for our being in Lithuania for our last tour and we're meant to stay put and that's why it was so painful getting here. I know I don't want to get back on a plane any time soon. Here's the saga of our trip.
We packed the car with our luggage, dogs, and dog crates, and left our lodgings in Oakwood, Falls Church at 9:30 am on Friday, July 31. We had planned to spend some time with Sheila before our check-in at Dulles and so had a wonderful early lunch before leaving for the airport at 1:30. Our SAS flight was scheduled to leave for Copenhagen at 5:15 where we were to make connections with Air Baltic after an hour and a half layover. The total time for flights and layovers was to have been about ten hours--not real comfy for the dogs sitting in their cages in the hold, but doable.

While Mike returned the rental car, I sat near the SAS counter with the dogs and luggage, chatting with Kris, a wonderful boy of 11, and his mom who, along with the dad and twin sisters waiting at the gate, were returning home to Denmark after several years of overseas life with Dad's business. They too were traveling with a dog, a Westie named Sara. They had had a longish layover and were able to claim the dog in order to walk her. But this meant they had to check in again and go through security with us.

When the check-in counter opened at 2:30, we were first in line, got our boarding passes, kissed the dogs and sent them through security, meandered across the great but very secure divide ourselves, and eventually settled in at the gate for our SAS flight to Copenhagen, boarding in about an hour and a half.

4:45pm: There is a hopeful stirring among the passengers, waiting for their boarding call.

4:50pm: The stirring becomes more pronounced but less hopeful, yet there is no boarding call.

5:00pm: Finally the nice ground crew lady at the desk issues an announcement--"There is a warning light on the plane's 'dashboard' that says there's something amiss, but the mechanics can't find the fault. We'll let you know when we have some information."

6:00pm: Even if the flight takes off now, we've missed our connecting flight to Vilnius, a concern considering Air Baltic has very limited service between Copenhagen and Vilnius and the flights are nearly always full. This I seem to recall from my days of booking travel for my bosses at Commercial Services in Stockholm. We are now in deep connection kimchi as SAS continues to search for the source of the blinking idiot light. This plane, an Airbus, has no local mechanics who can fix it and SAS is on the phone with the Airbus help desk. I am concerned since I know where all help desks in my experience have been.

7:30pm: We receive meal vouchers. My only concern is alcohol, but once I've had my meal and a beer, it's nearly 9:00 and I realize the dogs, who have been in their cages since 2:30, need to get out to potty before the plane takes off.

9:00pm: Sara's family and I beg the ground crew to take the three dogs for a walk and give one particularly competent woman the leashes. We watch as she runs, dragged by each of the dogs in turn, between the cargo door and a spot suitable for doggie relief. We, the dogs' owners, are also relieved.

9:30pm: The flight is canceled and we are told we will be given vouchers for local hotels and that seats on departing flights will be found. We are to wait in line.

10:30pm: I leave for the baggage claim to sit with the dogs.

3:30am (Saturday, August 1): Mike finally arrives at the baggage claim with our hotel voucher and information for our flight out to Frankfurt on Lufthansa at 5:30 pm Saturday.

4:00am: We collapse in our $580/night room at the Dulles Hilton. The TV has been left on fairly loud in the adjoining room; and as I stuff torn tissues into my ears, I have thoughts on why the airlines are having financial troubles.

10:00am: We take our $10 breakfast voucher to the cold buffet which costs exactly $4/person more than the voucher pays. Hot buffet (my usual breakfast of hot oatmeal) is $8/person over. I eat a tiny carton of yogurt and granola from a shop-worn individual serving box for my $14 and comment that the staff at this oh, so exclusive restaurant does not notice patrons' empty coffee cups or when the buffet line is out of food. There is no water, no fruit, none of several labeled items on the line. I hear the person at the table next to us comment that he can get grits for his $10. We return to our room to nap for another hour and a half.

11:30am: We must check out by noon, so we schlepp our three suitcases, two dogs, two crates, and our carry-ons to the lobby. The only luggage trolley available has a flat tire and can't be steered over elevator thresholds. I imagine Paris Hilton in the elevator making a blue movie on such a trolley.

12:00pm: We are told the airport shuttle is full, and furthermore it is not functioning properly and that we must wait for the next one. We are becoming the zombies we must resemble and try hard not to eat the brains of the idiots perpetrating this farce.

12:30pm: We are shuttled off to Departures only to find half of South Asia clogging the area around the Lufthansa gate, eating lunches and waiting to see some family members off. We take our belongings and our dogs and find a window ledge to sit on until the gate opens for our flight to Frankfurt. I note that as with most parties in public areas, much trash and garbage remains after the family has gone.

1:30pm: We start manoevering our cart with two dog crates and our rolling cases through the labyrinth in front of the check-in counter. Apparently it is part of democracy in action to be treated as everybody else who has only one rolling bag to steer through the crowd-control ropes. One of us is not permitted to jump the line with our luggage while the other of us waits in line for our turn. We consider eating the brains of the Lufthansa ground crew and jump the line anyway. One nice woman sees the wisdom is assisting us and gets us to the front of the line FAST...

2:00pm: where we are told that we have been put on stand-by both for this Lufthansa flight and for the Air Baltic flight (only one of two leaving there daily) we are to meet in Frankfurt. In all probability we will be stranded (with the dogs) indefinitely in Frankfurt.

2:15pm: Crew manager arrives and suggests Mike return to the SAS desk and make a few demands that will get us on our required flights.

3:00pm: Mike and Kris(!) come to rescue me and the dogs and escort us to the SAS desk. We are booked on the 5:35 flight to Copenhagen. It's the broken plane that has been repaired by an Airbus repair team flown in overnight. We are not checked through to Vilnius since we will have an eleven hour layover in Copenhagen before we can get out on Air Baltic. BUT WE ARE BOOKED! I think to myself that I am not celebrating until we land safely in Denmark.

5:40: We are in the air! Kris and family are flying business class while Mike and I, in cattle car, each have a row of four seats to ourselves. We flip up the arm rests, throw a blanket over our heads, and settle in for actual sleep.
We land in Copenhagen on Sunday at 11:30am local time, collect our luggage and the dogs, store the luggage and the cages in their Garderobe (luggage storage) and find the train to downtown Copenhagen. We find an open-bus city tour that segues into an open-boat city tour and spend the afternoon learning about Tristam IV and the stock exchange. Charlotte is so enthralled by the boat's wake that she nearly jumps into the river.

We return to the airport and check into Air Baltic where we are told we are overweight and will be put on standby until we resolve the issue. The dogs are also put on standby until they can prove they are not terrorists. We pay the overage, get the dogs through security, are given a hand-written boarding pass to get us onto the plane. Copenhagen's airport is organized to make the traveler spend money. No matter how tired you are, you may not enter the gate area until the flight is boarded. So we sat on hard chairs designed for more for torture than for rest until the flight boarded at 8:30pm.

Once on the plane, we allowed ourselves the luxury of relaxing. In one and a half hours the ordeal would be over and we'd soon be able to collapse in our new apartment. Heavy sigh.
With that in swoops the Air Baltic ticket taker. "I have to ask you both to get off the plane. We have no record that you've paid for this flight."

11:00 pm local time, Vilnius: We land. I don't know what transpired or how the aforementioned fool found out that we had indeed paid. Whatever.

12:15am, August 3: We arrive in our apartment and who is grinning up at me but my good American friend Jim Beam.





Sunday, May 24, 2009

Wire Work Bangle Bracelet

Look what I did with one of my beads!

I met Donna Barnako, a jewelry artist, at an art show in Great Falls and was fascinated by her work. She has a funky, mixed-media take on accessories that fits right in with my interests.

Donna offered a class yesterday to a limited number of beginners, so piggy that I am and anxious to use my new (well, newer than most of my art supplies) lampwork beads, I snatched up one of the four places. Nobody needed to know I'd already take a beading class a year ago. Nobody could have known, either, judging on the quality of my wrapped loop (see dangle--but don't look too closely).

I love this process! Wire wrapping is easy but attention-consuming. Choosing beads is a challenge but not frustrating. The bracelet took me three hours to make, but the next one won't take that long.

The most difficult part of the project was choosing the right bead mix. I was going for a relaxed symmetry and a bit of contrast without my usual schizo melange. I'm happy with this piece.

Best part: I went shopping at JoAnn's Memorial Day sale and bought more wire, a coiling tool, and a few beads I could use as dangles on my next work of art. Just what I need: more junk to move!

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Back to reality

I returned to JCCFS (the Folk School) for spring break and learned a little about making lamp work beads. Because of the high cost of equipment I will never make beads again, but I must say it was artful fun!

I enjoyed playing with colors and finding new ways to manipulate the glass. Every bead was a surprise.

I intend to make some of the beads into jewelry, but many will find themselves embellishing quilts. I have a collage quilt waiting for bling and I would also like to continue making "Gypsy" quilts with my painted fabrics. No gypsy is fully dressed without tons of jewelry. Glass beads are just the thing.

However, my forthcoming move is sucking most of my brain into some kind of a chaotic parallel universe, so my creative efforts may be a tad retarded for a while.