Ramblings

So I have been continuing to organize the wild jungle of memoorebilia we call a bookshelf. Look at how nice and *comparatively* neat it has become! (Don't look at the floor.)



I told you not to look at the floor.

Notice that the books in the lower centre shelf happen to be holding up the shelf above them. Unsurprisingly, those books had to stay where they were.

I maxed out my free membership on librarything at 202, I got one and a half shelves of this set in! Dad actually had more than one edition of many of his books I have discovered. Clearly I will need to break down and buy a membership to do the collection justice.
Mama also thinks this is a good idea-and therefore not a complete waste of time as my usual pursuits like sitting around and sleeping are-as we will have an actual catalogue of books just in case her fervent and often loudly vocalized wish to have the house burn down is ever realized.



Look what I found as I perused the shelves! It was fun to look at and see all the old guys, Bobby Jurasin-I still have our "Rider Sun" bandannas in the cedar chest, Ray Elgaard-I still can't believe they didn't retire 81-bastards!, Roger Aldag-whose nearly life sized cut-out Richard used to sleep next to heheh, Don Narcisse, and all the guys from the days when we actually managed to win a cup for the whole second time in the last hundred years. Back then, we kids had season tickets in the cheap seats but always sneaked into section 28-especially if those dirty cheating Bombers were there-so we could yell along with the drunk college students at the opposing players bench directly in front. And the flame was still there!

Ah good times....sniff.

I am hoping I can teach Avery to bleed green as he was very interested in my Gainer key chain when we were there for Easter (yes yes never mind that it just looked like a little stuffed toy to him). I don't know what I'll do if he ends up a lamo stamps fan.

Anyway, back the book; as good as the memories may be, I cannot believe this page existed in my house for all these years without having me deface it:


My family used to laugh at my undying hatred for Kent Austin. They of course would bait me by mentioning that Kent thought our recent loss of say 65 to 3 was still a good game because he felt he played well. AUUUGGGG! Kent Austin YOU SUUUUUUKKKK! Ahem. Sorry, flashback. (I come by this honestly, BTW, as my Grandma hated Ron Lancaster with an equal fury. Forever locked in my memory is "Look Ronnie is going to start crying...")

I have ALWAYS regretted not being at the game the 13th man won against BC the first year after Kent Austin was traded to them, which I think was only a season or two after this. That was unfortunately the first year we didn't get season tickets. It also happened to be like the only game we won of the season, and one of the few BC lost. If time travel were ever made possible, forget all the "big" events of history, I would sign up to go to that game.

I so would have harangued the crap out of him with the drunks in section 28.

Speaking of which, I bet this page could still make good bog roll...

Every so often I get past planning stages...

Not often enough though. I have way too many projects half done-Al 2.3 and 2.7 are staring at me as I write. I should have never given them faces. I know I have been kind of lazy and scattered for the last few years, I keep planning on rectifying that...well a vicious cycle ensues.

I just found a new and interesting site-mail me art. Buddy is amassing a pretty cool collection-I wouldn't want to sell them off. This just makes my mind start formulating yet more new plans for something to send-a box large enough to hold WMRC perhaps.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I remember thinking how actively my dad embodied the command of this famous poem as he lay in his hospital bed. It's powerful refrain played in my mind as he fought for every slow breath that he could gasp, as his heart sluggishly pushed blood through his veins just one more time... If there ever was one to fight the dying of the light, he was the one. He lived for almost two years though his prognosis was for a few months. He just stubbornly held on.

My dad used to think he would die of a heart attack; "the Moores all have weak hearts" he'd say. His father and uncles all died when their weak hearts gave out on them. But he had a Smith heart, a strong one that fought like hell to continue beating. He was always more like his mother anyway. We told him as much as he lay there battling for another minute, another second. Obstinacy comes from the Smith side too.

It has been a year, and that strong Smith heart is probably worm food by now. However sad I may continue to be for existing in a world that does not include him, there is yet joy. Not just in knowing he is with Christ, finally knowing what it really is like to be perfect (and humble! I can't wait to see what that's like, heh) but his heart will one day beat strong again in a new body, in a new world. One that has been redeemed and freed from death, as surely as our foolish and darkened hearts have been.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Bookdom of Moores

Amazingly I'm not working (of course I did work until 7:30 this morning, but that was then...)

I found a new toy. Actually I found it awhile ago and circumspectly avoided it as I knew my rabid cataloguing tendencies would make themselves known and I'd be sitting for hours putting my collection in there. I saw it again and I think the tiredness made me forget that I didn't want to start this...You see my dad's collection is now my collection, and it probably numbers high in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. Don't believe?

I started cataloguing the small bookshelves in my computer/craft room, which are the easy part. They are here. But I still have:



The one on the left is mostly mama's books so not too much of a problem there as I won't add many of them. The one on the right contains largely father's books (and just look at how many more there are and how fat they are and how many of them have something to do with Winston Churchill. My dad used to do a pretty good Winston Churchill when he got to WWII with his grade 11s-We will nevah...surrender!...but I digress.)



This one is the really deceptive killer. It's like the community chest of bookdom, a hodge-podge. Floor to ceiling books of all types double shelved. Pull out a book and you find...another layer of books. It is wider than it looks also.

Notice the two Gage Canadian dictionaries? There is another one somewhere. This goes to show the extent of our bibliolatry. Only in the Moore household do we fill every available nook with books. And there are roughly five boxes of them out in the shed as well. My brother wanted to take some of them, but I denied that request as I knew he'd probably just sell them. He took away the ten-volume set of children's stories we used to have, insisting he should have it "because I have kids". Never mind that they live closer to me than to him. Though rest assured that if I am trolling on ebay one day and happen to see them, he will die.

Anyway, I probably won't get them all on there or even close to all on there, though it would be nice to have a catalogue of them all. I'll see how far I get before I get tired of it. I wonder if I should add dad's copy of Mein Kampf? Will that get me put on a "list"?

You cannot put straight in others what is warped in yourself.

When the madness of idolatry and irreligion filled the world and the knowledge of God was hidden, whose part was it to teach the world about the Father? Man's, would you say? But men cannot run everywhere over the world, nor would their words carry sufficient weight if they did, nor would they be, unaided, a match for the evil spirits. Moreover, since even the best of men were confused and blinded by evil, how could they convert the souls and minds of others? You cannot put straight in others what is warped in yourself.

Perhaps you will say, then, that creation was enough to teach men about the Father. But if that had been so, such great evils would never have occurred. Creation was there all the time, but it did not prevent men from wallowing in error.

Once more, then, it was the Word of God, Who sees all that is in man and moves all things in creation, Who alone could meet the needs of the situation. It was His part and His alone, Whose ordering of the universe reveals the Father, to renew the same teaching.

But how was He to do it? By the same means as before, perhaps you will say, that is, through the works of creation. But this was proven insufficient. Men had neglected to consider the heavens before, and now they were looking in the opposite direction.

Wherefore, in all naturalness and fitness, desiring to do good to men, as Man He dwells, taking to Himself a body like the rest; and through His actions done in that body, as it were on their own level, He teaches those who would not learn by other means to know Himself, the Word of God, and through Him the Father.

On the Incarnation, book 3

While I had always particularly favoured the section directly preceding this part, as I read this bit again I was struck by the power of it. Ah the Word.

It was the Christian teaching of man's sinfulness and total inability that convinced me Christianity was true all those years ago (and as I continue to feel the warping of such a nature, it still does). Man can't discover the knowledge of God, nor can he find God in creation. Rather, God found us in revealing to us his Word-and the Word made flesh.
And people wonder why I would be perfectly willing to name a child Athanasius :)

It's Le Suck

When you have to work two shifts in one day and neither is overtime because they happen to be exactly 8 hours apart! *grumble grumble* Now I have to go sleep so I can be up for the next one. Bah!

If it hadn't been pieday friday, someone might have had to be hurt.

I have a secret...

A favorite lyric of mine! Of course Petra would give us the proper interpretation of Ro 7!
Jekyll and Hyde; Acrylic

ETA: I have ran the scan through some filters so it looks a little smoother. Not as much detail, but it's a bit more reminiscent of the actual piece.

This is technically one of the older designs I planned, originally designed as a "masquerade" deco a while before I started the project. I would love to see that deco again!! Still hoping it makes it's way home one day-though if it hits a bunch of people like me it will take quite awhile...

After stabbing myself for the nineteenth time working on the crappy lino for The Coloring Song, I took a break and decided to move on to the painless though messy layers of this. I had to really kick up the contrast to get the image to show in the scan. It is very dark and murky in reality. Of course this also makes the brush lines very apparent, as well as the colour layers beneath. I attempted a pseudo-mische technique with transparent acrylics and gel medium. It worked to a certain degree as some of the layers lifted (so it looks particularly blue in places), so I guess true mische is the way to go for those of us who do not have WMRC in our homes to knock the piece to the floor in the week each layer takes to dry.

Anyway, between this one, The Colouring Song, and Stand I have my "quota" for the month. Heh.

And Having Done All, to Stand.

Stand; acrylic, opaque white, felt tip pen and really foul india ink.

That's right. What else did you expect to see for this song? Didn't you expect me to worm my man Athanasius in to the project somehow? If not then all I can say is you're dumb. *sticking tongue out like petulant child*

I threw all the trad elements in there, the checkered floor, the creed and the heretic. You can think of it as Arius or Eusebius if you like. Personally I like the idea of it being Asenius with Athanasius thinking 'how's that hand now, sucka!?' HA!

Stupidity aside, my ideas seem to be all for revisiting the shield of the trinity right now. I have another piece sketched using it, which I'm thinking is going to look a little freakier. This one does have a medieaval look to it though that is fitting for the shield, doesn't it? Especially since perspective is completely irrelevant in medieaval art. BTW I scanned this before putting the letters in (except the ests I see), but Athanasius is facing the F as he is presenting his creed against the world to the Son. How deep is that!

I discovered with this piece that apparently india ink can go bad as mine smelled as rank as the dead fish my dog used to roll in at the beach. It also did not wash over the floor as well as I would have liked (which is only one of the reasons Asenius/heretic's foot looks all crazy and floaty). All in all there are some things that could be better, but I think it turned out not too bad. As always as long as the thing is in my house, I reserve the right to fiddle with it.

Shoe Blues...

I only have 27 pairs of shoes and none of them are blue. This led me to the realization about a year ago that I absolutely needed a pair of blue shoes-not navy and not turquoise mind you but a cobalt blue-and set out to look for them. I didn't count on them being particularly difficult to find-though I probably should have as I am impossibly picky about such things.

After scouring shoe stores across the county (such a difficult job!) and having to put up with my mother showing me disgusting crocs and saying "well they're blue, heheh"-to which my reply is should hideous crocs really be honoured with the title of "shoe"? Isn't this a fairly apt comparison to Finney as a theologian? Shouldn't they rather be called " unsightly blobs of pure evil, only to be destroyed at the second coming along with death and hades"? Sure less catchy but I'm all for truth in advertising. They are probably manufactured by the minions of Satan, otherwise known as Monsanto.

Anyway, after the stench of so many crocs, I finally found them.

Blue shoes!!! So perdy. Patent is kind of meh, but I could live with that. They are T-straps, that makes up for just about anything. And for our colour blind friends, did I mention they are blue!

Then I find out that the only places that carry them are in the US and will not ship out of country. Discriminators! Don't they realize how much I need the blue shoes!? Just because I could only wear them three months of the year does not mean I wouldn't rock them during those three months. Because I would.

WAAAAA I want my blue shoes.

Failing miserably-Glad for Penal Substitution!

I know I am meant to be avoiding the internet. But I find more fun things all the time-like online quizzes. This one was particularly cool, even though I can never make up my mind on the questions, as I think "well if you were to take it this way..."

the thought of me being a theologian is entertaining in itself, but for added interest, my results:

You scored as Anselm. Anselm is the outstanding theologian of the medieval period.He sees man's primary problem as having failed to render unto God what we owe him, so God becomes man in Christ and gives God what he is due. You should read 'Cur Deus Homo?' Anselm 93% Karl Barth 80% Jonathan Edwards 80% John Calvin 73% Martin Luther 67% Friedrich Schleiermacher 47% Charles Finney 33% Jürgen Moltmann 20% Augustine 20% Paul Tillich 7% Which theologian are you? created with QuizFarm.com

Once I finished this quiz and saw the results, I realized I had taken it once before a year or two ago-and scored as Anselm. Heh. The Mediaeval period had some interesting artistic feats to it's credit, so that's cool. :)
I do find the fact that Finney is not sitting at negative 300% disturbing (and yes even more than some others). Especially since he is above Augustine. Hoping against hope that is due to my equivocating...Semper reformanda indeed.

The Webernet Feeds Laziness.

I have decided I need to cut down on reading interesting useless things on the www for a while. I have been rather neglecting things like art and leaving the house (though I do that every winter so nothing new)-I figure I am going to give myself a certain amount of time per day on the crackernet-uh I mean internet, and then go find other things to do. I refuse to do a complete self-imposed exile however, since cold turkey just doesn't work. For example, look at The Pyromaniacs' so called hiatus.

A good quarter of the comments are from Frank Turk and Dan Phillips-and he may not be commenting, but you know Phil Johnson is trolling on the blog practically EVERY day, reading comments and/or fiddling with the chalkboard.

Worst.
Blog hiatus.
EVER.

Yet more proof that the pyros need to work on their sanctification (I am aware that makes no sense-but don't I sound like the other haterz?).

And yes, I was looking at a blog with nothing but a chalkboard-hence the realization I need to quit wasting time trolling. I need to work on my own sanctification, obviously-my OCD is showing again.

You too are a Mighty Sinner

If you are a preacher of grace, then preach a true and not a fictitious grace; if grace is true, you must bear a true and not a fictitious sin. God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly, for he is victorious over sin, death, and the world. As long as we are here we have to sin. This life is not the dwelling place of righteousness but, as Peter says, we look for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. It is enough that by the riches of God's glory we have come to know the Lamb that takes away the sin of the world. No sin will separate us from the Lamb, even though we commit fornication and murder a thousand times a day. Do you think that the purchase price that was paid for the redemption of our sins by so great a Lamb is too small? Pray boldly--you too are a mighty sinner.

Letter From Luther to Melanchthon

Must remember to believe and to pray-boldly. A comment I left elsewhere reminded me of this-again-then Of course I had to go looking for it to read again-such a great quote.
Don't you just wish sometimes you had a little of Luther's, what's the word, bombast? Blurgh.

Maybe I need to join a liturgical church....

While searching for non-cheesy lace beading I found the coolest site-vestment fabrics!!! How drool worthy are they? I could stare at this fabric until I went blind, however this one I could actually afford.

Where the heck is this Global Warming they keep promising us?!

Crap it's cold outside. I wouldn't've gone out but I had to get my final immunization for work.

Anyway, since I haven't worked in the last few days and I don't want to go anywhere, I was able to return to the corset I started a few weeks ago yesterday. I made the laughing moon silverado, as I read some good reviews of it on the net, and I figured since I am not the most accurate sewer I had better go with something relatively easy.
It was indeed easy, the only problems being it is a little large at the bottom (I can actually lace it closed) and well, my corset looks nothing like the one in the picture...it's supposed to be a rather long corset, and even though I added nearly an inch to the length, mine just doesn't look that long. Or really that shape. I think my waist is too low. Ah well no matter. I was actually worried it was going to be too small at first-good thing I went with a size smaller than the chart.

I decided to wear it for awhile yesterday as my back had been bothering me. Since I can't bend at the waist I also can't curve my back in an impossibly severe and contorted arch as I am wont to, so it does help. Well it did until my mom said "let me see", and proceeded to choke the life out of me because she wanted to see how tight she could get the bloody thing. I'm surprised she didn't put her knee in my back for leverage she was tugging at it so hard (and I think the only reason she didn't is because she's too short to do so). This was when I discovered it does close up at the bottom. And that mama is a sadist-no I guess I always knew that..

I still need to bind it and pick up some lace beading (that isn't too precious that is) for a trim. I decided to do some embroidery on it-and now I'm not sure I didn't prefer it without it. Mama likes the embroidery, but it just doesn't look as good as I expected I guess.

Anyway, here is the front with the embroidery-yes I hate it when people cut their heads off in photos-but it's only this once-the photo rendered my hair a truly hideous orange.



And here is the back-closed at the bottom as you can see-I should have made a 10 with an 8 bottom I guess. Well I'll know that if I ever make another. As for the weird curve in the chest part; I think that is because of the way I'm standing, though I did cut it a little less than straight and I had to take all the seams out there as my back is so broad. My brother and I have exactly the same build and I can say it looks better on a man.

Someone Else Like Me

...doesn't exist, thank God! That would cause quite the spike in the rapture index-rivaled perhaps only by the legging revival. (Now I must go puke because I have thought about leggings).

Self-depreciation aside, I managed to save this from the clutches of WMRC and it turned out more or less okay;


If I Had to Die for Someone; Mohair spun on drop spindle and knitted in lace pattern on 2.5 needles.

I figured it's going to be tiny and I'll do a most simple pattern so it shouldn't take too long and started working...two months or so ago. I forgot that using 2.5 needles means that you will need 2 million rows or so to get the length. I also decided to leave the mohair as a single, which caused problems with breakage when WMRC shooed it through the ENTIRE house. Twice. Fortunately she never got the work off the needle (the ball was the fun part anyway). Also lucky was that hellion 2 didn't see it-he particularly enjoyed the zippy sound of tearing out some knitting of mama's row by row by row by row. Ad infinitium.

I did the spinning with the mohair I got from "Al" (I discovered that is the goat's name) last summer-it was actually the first thing I spun after getting the lace weight spindle and wonderful fibre combs, so it has been laying around waiting for me to start this piece so that it might tickle and itch me all over again. It's rather uneven, but that just made it interesting. Yeah, interesting. I meant it to be that way. Yeah.

I can only say as to inspiration, that I think the line I played off of here is one of their most absurd. How does one get "too old" for keeping warm? Is this caused by middle age spare tire? Hot flashes?

You are NEVER to old to avoid hypothermia, Bob.

:P

The WMRC and Other Highlights

I can't believe It's 2007. I say that every year though...I told one of my coworkers that time must seem to go faster when you reach adulthood as you are no longer waiting for the milestones and events that make one "grown up" that take so long to come when you are that age.
She told me not to worry, as time slows down again once you are old enough to start counting down to the milestone of retirement. Hah!

For some reason I feel like doing the obligatory "look back", even though as usual I spent most of the time thinking "I gotta quit being so lazy-tomorrow! Or next year!" Ah as someone who lives by the power of inertia, I have to confess that I avoid change like the plague. Of course this year change has forced it's way into my life, like it or not. The year has been bookended with life altered and lost, my dad's death in March and now my aunt's terminal prognosis. With the death of my dad, I know nothing can be picked up and put back the way it was again. Well such changes are irrevocable so I am forced into learning to live with them.


In May, I finally finished my certification as a CCA (and I think the redesignation of the term from SCA is stupid but I need to make a New Year's Resolution to rant less about stupidity) after a year and a half of on and off classes, first by correspondence and then in a classroom setting. I discovered that I still hate school, though I admit I do miss many of the people I trained with.

My training did prove invaluable at the end of my dad's life as I was able to do all of his personal care, and my teacher was very helpful. That was especially appreciated as my entire family was next to useless through the last few months.


Then of course it was left to actually get a job (well in the public system rather than the crummy private facilities that is-I already had one of those). When I did my practicum at the lodge in February I hated it and was dreading having to work there. I have since gotten over it and am slowly improving, even at the 6 am shift. I managed through my first death and only sobbed like a baby about it for a day or two...I just finished my probationary period in December-now I am in with the union and they will never be rid of me! Bwahahahaha!


Mama and I also decided to take a trip out to the Maritime region. She and my Dad were going to go out there on their honeymoon and never got any farther than Montreal. They said they'd go one day-eventually (now you know where I get it from). Dad especially wanted to see the Confederation bridge after it had been built. This of course never happened, so we decided to go out there "for" him so to speak. It was lovely, as we went in the fall. Some regions of the country actually have seasons other than winter, summer and transitional week.


This has not been a particularly prolific year for me artistically. I have spent most of it obsessing over Athanasius and yet getting sidetracked continually, so all is normal in my own special world where one can exhibit traits of both ADHD and OCD at once. Now that I am actually getting somewhere on the project I am beginning to feel a little better, provided the World's Most Retarded Cat leaves it alone.

As mentioned I had a quilt published in a national magazine and tour across the US before being returned in November. I won't beat that horse anymore. Other than that, I did a few baby quilts-the one for my newest nephew/hellion James is of the most ugly fabric, but it has dragons and flames on it so I knew my brother would like it. It turned out much nicer than I expected, fabric notwithstanding. And I thought about the gospel as I made it.

I kept somewhat busy with decos and such, not as many as I would have liked though. I have also been keeping a "visual journal of mundanity" which has provoked some bemused expressions from others who come into contact with it. Still...trying...to force...self...to use...sketchbooks!

I finished numbers 44 to 66 of CIP . Yeah not a ragingly high number of pieces, but I am steadily working on it, if The World's Most Retarded Cat doesn't manage to destroy any more pieces (she is particularly fond of carrying the work for If I Had to Die For Someone up and down the house-hiding it does no good-I am convinced she must seek it out specially).

Speaking of The WMRC, when we went on vacation we asked someone to check on Morgana-which they did not do, so she disappeared. We live in a trailer, and with winter approaching, one does not go without a cat unless one is a magnanimouse person who has decided the little rabid hanta-virus spreading critters of the field need love too. At your house.
We are not those ones, so we got a new cat. She has turned out to be an idiot savant. She lays in her litter box, the friggin dumbbunny. However she displays an amazing capacity for getting at small things and playing with them to their destruction. And despite her abject stupidity, she is pretty cute.
WMRC is her official title, but her name is Marty. She's black and white, and my brother the catnamer picked the name as his son is obsessed with Madagascar. Usually we call her in the manner of the slow motion scene from the film; Maaarrrrttttyyyy.. oh sugarhoneyicetea-uh yeah the hellions were also enamored of the show and we have all seen it enough times to have memorized ninety percent of the dialogue.

Oh and the Hellions have been a town away from us since March or so. This has wreaked some interesting havoc with our lives, but we are finding ourselves adjusting accordingly. Not without complaining, as Moores are wont to do.

We are adjusting to all the changes we hate so much. Life in a state of flux has almost become routine over the past few years (if that's possible). Maybe I will even learn embrace change and make necessary ones myself. Tomorrow though. Or next year.

Isn't this Asenius?

Athanasius proved to be a rock of intolerance to the Arian position. If he would not move, his enemies would dislodge him from his seat of power by other methods. An absurd smear campaign ensued. Athanasius was even accused of murdering a certain Asenius to obtain his hand for magic. The problem was Asenius was still very much alive and with both hands intact. No matter. the Arian Eusebius had the emperor's ear, and continued to put a bug in it until Athanasius was forced into exile in the west, where he remained until Constantine's death. Out of exile for a short time, but Eusebius and his new best friend Constantius weren't finished yet.


Updated: (click on the picture for a nice large version with reasonable detail) I have finished the painting for the most part, so I cut the fabric down and took this pic. Now I just have to wait a few days for it to dry so I can work on stitching. Not entirely sure what I will do, I am afraid I'll wreck it! I am also abit wary of the gold leaf I intend to apply-I've never worked with it before, and I imagine fabric to be a less than easy ground for it.
I think I will be conservative in embellishment-much more so than I had originally planned. I do hope to give it more definition, as I can't do much more with the paint. This is also about how dark the piece actually is-the fabric continually darkened for weeks after that iron bath!


I have been awake for 25 hours. I woke up far too early and finally transferred the design for Athanasius onto the silk. After coming home from work, I went right back to it. I smell like oil paint, a good feeling. At the moment the piece is too low contrast (the strength of my method is it's subtlety) I don't want it quite that subtle however. I have lightened all of these photos for better readability.

This is the first rendering of the face-I particularly liked the way it looked-less smirky than the drawing. However it was so dark it was almost unreadable in the photo. More layers of light had to be added. It doesn't look as well now though.

This one is the top laying on the floor as I was working it, paintstiks, brushes and my coat surround it. Yes I got home, took my coat off and worked at it! This is also the first time I have used sticks rather than tube oil paint (They were the thing that took months to arrive!). I like the dryness of them as they go onto my brush much more lightly, reducing the need to brush as much off.
I continually took photos to get an appreciation for how it was reading.


This is how it looks right now. He looks a bit more cranky in this picture (less so in life), perhaps he is thinking of the Eusebii (I don't know if that is actually a word...). the coptic textile design has been rendered in gold to the left. the first attempt gave me a much more readable design, but oh well.
There is still much work to do, but I feel better to have finally started work on the actual piece after all these months of stalling. I designed this just before my practicum-almost a year ago! I kind of wish I could leave it dark and low contrast; it looks very cool that way, dark and moody.

I hate writing titles, mine are always lame.

I have just returned from Saskatoon, where I found some nice fabric for my Calvin hat. I didn't have enough of any red fabric for it, and though I considered making it white instead, once I get an idea it has to be done that way or I hate it. So I went looking for red. I found some beautiful scarlet wool that would have been perfect-unfortunately it was 46 dollars per metre of beautiful scarlet wool. So I bought some red corduroy with satin backed crepe to line it.

I decided to make a normal renaissance style bonnet and just add the earflaps. I'll need to do some kind of a band for it to hide the seams, not sure how I'll do that just yet.

The first go at it yielded a hat that is much too large for my head. Given my lack of abilities in math, one can guess that is where I went wrong. However I think I also should have measured higher on my head, as the earflaps would need to be quite high to accommodate the lack of largeness of my noggin.

It did work out nicely, however, even the crepe behaved reasonably well-it just would fit someone with a massive head. Germans would like it, they all have big heads. Maybe that rendition can be my Luther hat.

I bought some red and black silk brocade at the same time and I am tempted to make Calvin hat part deux out of that. Mama thinks that would be wasteful because no matter how I do it, it will be an ugly hat. Bah!

Red Letter Days

As I'm sure we all know, today marks a special time of celebration for young and old alike.
It is certainly a great day to remember-perhaps by studying the 95 theses over again. Or at least you could pick up a Martin Luther is my Homeboy beer stein from Frank Turk's Pawnshop (how apropos is that?).

Happy Reformation Day!

I spent part of it getting tests done at the hospital, blech. The way I felt makes me profusely thankful that we are indeed saved by grace through faith alone-I wouldn't have merited much but the kick in the butt I got.



I think I will make a red Calvin hat if I feel up to it.

Drawring of the Day

Sometimes I wonder how much of a wingnut I seem to to everyone else. Then I realize I am a wingnut and it's only fitting that I appear that way.

I am listening to old recordings of David Martyn Lloyd-Jones (he had the best accent, didn't he).
Anyway, I think he had a wonderful face so here is my drawing of the day: D Martyn Lloyd-Jones, done in a hatchy directional manner. Not really sure why I decided to do that, but I think it turned out nicely regardless. It was done relatively quickly, as I have an affinity for the look that produces.

I used the photo on the cover of the first biography by Iain Murray, which looks 20s-30s. Really Lloyd-Jones' face got more interesting as he got older (gained character of course) and I would have used a later picture, but this younger picture of him is a particular favorite type of photo portrait-good lighting which translates to sketch nicely and three-quarters view is my preferred angle.


I think I would do well on the weird peripheries of Christian blogging, heh (not the heretic country that is, just the tangential ). Anyone else in the blogosphere referencing Lloyd-Jones is going to mention his meticulous expositional preaching and theological output, for better or worse. Only here do you get an exclamation about what a delightful face he had. Told you I was a wingnut.

For the record, I have been set myself a challenge of a drawing a day for a month, mostly mundane things to improve my quick spot drawing. Today I decided to fall back on more familiar territory, hence the portrait.

Back to the dubs

I returned from my trip yesterday. Thanks gwensmom and Mem for proving me right about my widespread readership, hee!

The lodge called me to work today, but I need some time to rest from my vacation first! I was told that if you return from a vacation more tired than when you left, it was a good one. Mine must have been great.

Seriously, I enjoyed myself to the tune of about 300 bucks over budget (I've always been a sucker for supporting my fellow artists and craftspeople). I did get some really unusual items, including some hand maiden yarn, which I was hoping to get my hands on.

Oh and some PEI dirt. Fortunately that was free, as I scrounged it up from the back alley in Charlottetown, heh. I mailed it home to myself. I can't wait to do some textile treatment with it.

I will post pics of all of that stuff when I get the mail-we mailed the majority of it home, so we wouldn't have to haul it around. The postal clerks told us one day an entire bag was full of parcels for the two of us alone.


When I got home and read my emails, I discovered that the QuiltingArts quilts were not being sent home at the end of the month as planned, but are going to be shown one last time in...

wait for it....


*suspence*



HOUSTON.

Those of you who are not part of the quiltiverse are probably thinking yeah so? But if you are part of it I know you get it. :) the international quilt festival in Houston is one of the most prestigious shows in the world, and now I'll be able to brag that I showed at Houston-Ooooo. Nevermind that it's as part of a company display, it's still Houston. I think they were at Chicago too, now that I think about it. Well I feel special anyway. Maybe that will get me off of my rear and make me work at new things.

See ya

I will be gone for the next few weeks on vacation. I know this will break the hearts of all two of you, but rest assured I will miss my regular blog addiction more than anyone in the blogosphere will miss me. :) Of course by the time I get back, it will be about time for my monthly post.

Someday I'll become less of a slacker, but maybe later, at a more convenient time.

You think to escape, but it can not be

Earlier parts of the saga are here. :)

Once Alexander was gone, his authority (and therefore the battle against Arius) would fall to his protege Athanasius. I am sure he had no warning of how much trouble the Arians would be. Then again, I am also sure they were completely unaware that one little man could create such colossal havoc for their evil cause.
Though the Son knew-from eternity past of course.



I FINALLY got a reasonable colour on the noil for Athanasius.
I initially used synthetic dye with acid and it went frickin purple! (I think the shelf life on those particular dyes is about over) a quick tea dye browned it a bit. Then I worked on it with an entire bottle of silk dye-and ran out of that. Last attempt was multiple extractions from walnuts and tea bags (no less than 7) allowed to reduce down into concentrated stock, a long hot soak and finally a post-mordant of iron to react with the tannin (decided against chrome when I changed the layout). It is still a dark medium brown-I would have liked it darker and I may do a second dip with the tannin/iron if I feel so moved. But I don't think I am going to be able to get a really dark shade on that particular fabric. Much of the first dyebath rinsed out.

Athanasius has proven as troublesome to me as he was to Arian heretics. I have been trying to print out the pattern and used a good 50 pieces of paper before I got something approaching the correct size (stupid printer! When I type 20 inches into the size box that means it should print to that size!!) >:(

It also took one heck of a lot of pondering (granted I was listening to apologetics.com on the computer at the time) to come up with a solution to creating a raised form of the coptic textile I am using for the background. I was thinking of carving, molding, lying-the final winner was to syringe it on to paper using gesso. I was surprised that it worked (especially given the heaviness of the silk), though I will have to be careful with the rubbing as the design is only slightly raised.

I am almost afraid to begin work on the actual piece! Perhaps I've already run my stream of crappy luck with this one. What else is going to happen?!

New Links

I've added a few more blogs to my little list which in no way reflects my voracious blog reading habit(Pyromaniacs has blogrolled most of the blogs I like for me-though purgatorio is special so has it's own link :) ).
I know darn well there are other art and craft blogs I had wanted to add and now I've forgotten and lost them. Ah well they'll turn up again.

I am not writing since I am not really doing anything. Not that it matters anyway. Bah.

I did find yet another lovely jacket pattern today, heh. Also after searching high and low for a place that sells Lampe Bergers, I managed to get ahold of one in cosmopolitan Yorkton of all places. It works too! My house does not reek of Sam the Stinkbaum anymore, though he'll soon fix that by his mere stenchy existence. I own the stinkiest dog that ever lived.

Dyeing

I haven't dyed much in months, so I decided to get some of the pots out and work on some of my bag of mohair. I wanted some muted green/blues. They turned out reasonably well, I especially like the blue.


The pinkish stuff is more a silvery grey in life, and the green is a bit deeper. Now I must do something with it!

The silk for Athanasius is proving to be difficult to obtain the correct colour on. I want a dark muted brown (almost black)-not a chocolatey brown though. That is the challenge. Perhaps I'll try black walnut-of course then I'll have to hunt some down, as there are none here. I've never used black walnut before, but it should be a straight forward cooking pot method, which is easy.

I am beginning to feel like I will require the perseverance of Athanasius to get it finished, heheh.

I've got too many projects going at once. Since I also work sporadically now, My general way of doing things, ie whenever the heck I feel like doing it, has been interupted. Gotta get used to that. Well I tell myself I must do something to get the money to buy dye stuff. :)

ETA: I spun up a little bit (one combing's worth) of the mohair with that brown alpaca I am so fond of-it is a rather pleasant muted teal overall.

We Gotta Take This Message...

Back To The Street, hand drawn, digitally coloured.

Though I suppose it is rather cliche (hey I feel I should do the expected for a few of them at least-that keeps everyone guessing) I decided to do a tag-ish style. I have never dabbled in that type of work much (despite being an old skool rap fan) and found it quite enjoyable. Even the digital colouring. I didn't need to do the careful line work for this one, and I wanted the texture without having to actually use spraypaint. :)

Though I didn't do grafitti per se I have always loved doing odd lettering. Such things as this filled the school hours when I was not skipping and kept me from dying of boredom. In fact these were the impetus of this project-I thought I had more of them since I did this constantly and was surprised of how much of it I had lost. I will resurrect some of the old designs, maybe soon as I loved doing this one.

UFO No More

I am trying to clear out some of my longtime WIP's on my days off, one of which was my new curtain. I've had it finished for awhile but had to decide how to attach it and add the lining. I finally got around to doing so, proving it was not a UFO (unfinished object) but rather a WIP (work in progress). Heh!
The difference between the two, BTW, is narrow but vital. One floats around your house haunting you forever (ultimately a UFO should perhaps be called an unfinishable object), whereas the other is eventually completed.

I don't care for the rod I have at all, but I suppose it will do. I need mounting brackets as it's hanging on the old rod for the vertical blind right now. I also need to steam it once I get it up there permanently.

It turned out reasonably well. There are of course things I would do differently if I had it to do over again. Experience is the best teacher after all.

oh happy day
when I threw the plastic slats from the vertical blind away!

Mucha Me

I finally got a free day! (I just finished working 6 shifts in 5 days, figure that out.) I certainly did not expect to be working so often, though I was warned this could happen. Soon the regular staff members will be back from holidays, so I should be getting fewer call-ins.

Also my brother and his son (Aves who is pictured in the footer of this blog), SIL and the hellions were here on the weekend. Those days never count as "days off". :)

Anyway, instead of being particularly productive on things I should be doing, I made a self portrait in the style of Alphonse Mucha:



I deesigned it on a whim, like everything I do. For whatever reason, I thought I'd digitally colour the original sketch. I have learned that I hate digital painting. My hands are killing me (yeah both of them-I drew on the tablet with my left and moused with my right-what do right handed people do!?) and it took forever! Of course my OCD-like tendencies would not allow me to quit when it was half done. This is why I rarely do large scale works.
I'm surprised at how even with the tablet I had a difficult time with line control. You can see this in the drunken look of the heavier lines. Bah. Still it looks kind of nice, if simpler and messier in general than Mucha's own pieces. The flower...thingy turned out weird though, I might go back to it when my hands are feeling better and I get my next day off, whenever that may be.

It's just a matter of time...

Before I get back to work on projects!

I have started a new job at the local regional care home and been working rather regularly (though I am casual). I am trying hard not to make too many mistakes-I feel sorry for the old people who have to put up with me learning. I do make pretty good money at it, plus I am in the health region now so maybe I will be able to get on at the hospital.

I FINALLY received my paintstiks (!!!!) which were ordered back in May and sent to me twice, and now I can start work on Athanasius. It has taken many more months than I expected to assemble the materials for that.

On the CIP front, I have had this one 90% finished for a few weeks (heh), finally got the central logo on there.



A Matter of Time, acrylic, ink and pen

This is one of the Mayan calendars, the Tzolkin (calendar round). I wanted a rounded mandala style for this piece and felt the Mayan would be suitable, as this was a highly advanced ritualistic society which mysteriously devolved and disappeared, almost lost forever in the process. It seemed fitting to use not only a system of measuring time, but the system of a society whose time ran out long before the auspicious 2012 forcasted date. One never does know when one's time is up.



Well, alright, and I think Mayan stuff looks cool. If anyone wants a stela style date, I have been known to make them...:)

A Quarter of the Way!!

Here are numbers 51-53 of the CIP-the solos, encompassing both those from CITAS and Farewell by way of depicting both of Bob's guitars (well guitar and controller) and two Keyboards for John's.



They are ambigrams or inversions. If you turn the sheet upside down they will read the same. This is why they look rather odd. Louie's solo (in the centre) was particularly difficult to invert, and I know it's practically impossible to read too. Ah well. I used pencil crayon for the backgrounds and inks for the lettering. They were designed to reside on a single sheet, the first of the smaller non-ATC pieces done.

I am finally getting to the pieces that are on hold because they need "sheetmates" for lack of a better word. I needed to have most of the pieces designed before they could be rendered so I could figure out how to put them together. I do have about 125 of them designed, and just over the number of the praise albums stumping me. I now officially have more than a quarter of the project finished-if I don't get a move on I won't be finished until 2009. Of course I don't plan on having the project sit at a complete standstill for six months again either.

Useless piece of information: while doing this I got acetone on the computer desk and now there is a lovely bubble in the finish. :-(

An Angora Goatlet

As you can see, I made something with the mohair-a little goat. :) He is needle felted, and I kept the locks to make him somewhat realistic. One of his eyes is bigger than the other but I think he is still pretty cute. This is the second piece I've needlefelted, and I managed to poke myself a number of times-good thing I got a tetanus shot last fall.

I am going to give him to the lady that gave me the mohair-I figure she must like goats since she has one...I also want to make a little bag or box for it, and am thinking I will wet felt that. I am going to dye the fibre for it-and I will probably comb the fibres to prepare them-OooO.

I got myself some mini combs and have been spinning up some of the mohair into a laceweight yarn. I have to admit that though the spinning is enjoyable, it is more a means to an end-I have to do something with all the fibre I am combing. I love combing! I can't explain it. Maybe it goes back to childhood and brushing doll hair, I don't know. It can become very rhythmic and therapeutic anyway. I didn't want to abandon the combing to eat and sleep for the first few days for heaven's sake. I never claimed to be a normal person.

No Doubt

Hey I'm on a roll with CIP-and I even managed to get the foot high grass cut in between. Here is the 49th:



No Doubt, pencil crayon

I have often said this is the most tear-jerky song Petra ever wrote. However the last line of the chorus is one I've often pondered and I think is quite profound in it's simplicity. This particular piece is a representation of that line. I wanted to severely crop the hand so it would look a bit odd and hopefully focus on that little seed.

Oh and the line is: "After all is done we find out all we really need to have is no doubt." I thought of holding on to faith (no doubt) through many years and to the detriment of everything else. At first I wanted to draw a scrap which could look worn and old like it had been held on to through hell, but then I thought I should go to more traditional symbolism of the seed. I still dunno if I should have done that though...well I'm good at second guessing.

With completion of this piece I can now delete the 25 pictures I took of my hand with the macro lens from my camera. That will leave only the piccies of the tiles for Magic Words; since I need spray laquer I can't get to that one yet.

Send Revival...

My dedication to CIP (and dressing and bathing and getting out of bed-you know life in general) is reviving. So I am trying hard right now to crack the 50 mark, and in the last couple of days I've completed four pieces, bringing me to a so-close 47. Yes I know then I'll only have 150 songs left...I seem to have miscounted as I keep turning up with 203-206 depending on which songs I include, rather than the former 211. I don't know if I pulled that number out of my rear end or what.

I am unhappy that I will have to move into abstract expressionist territory with most of the praise songs (that is like 30 songs) as they have no real concepts to work with. PPII in particular is giving me trouble; that I have not completed a single song from that album is pretty telling.
This is one of the ones I did indeed have a concept for, abstract yeah, but still somewhat figurative if you look closely enough. I do hope Bob is not an iconoclast...well I am going to stick with my theory that he is a Lutheran which will make it alright. This was originally a sketch in a journal about total depravity (yes I wrote an illustrated book about depravity-it doesn't look as bad as you might think) of Isaiah's vision, which was quoted in the song.


Send Revival Start With Me, watercolour.

Homeless Few

I used a few techniques on this one. Inks, paints and oils distressed the cardboard. The figure is drawn on bond paper which was then oiled and covered in sepia ink in the back (the back of the drawing is the front of the piece if that makes sense). I painted the colours in inks and chalks with acrylic for the white, and also painted the other side of the piece white to bring the figure to the fore. The piece is applied to the cardboard with matte gel medium.
Though it is predominantly brown, as one can see it does include blue and an orangy-red, as per my scheme. :)
While the line "under the red white and blue" is a specifically American reference, they certainly haven't cornered the market on callousness, so I created a ragged patchwork of various red white and blue flags trying to cover and obscure the problem of inconvenient persons. Of course the cardboard signifies the way we view so many people in our society as disposable.

Counsel of the Holy

Wisdom shouts in the street,
She lifts her voice in the square;
At the head of the noisy streets she cries out;
At the entrance of the gates in the city she utters her sayings...

Counsel of the Holy, Chalk Pastel.

I was apprehensive about the pastel at first because of it's inherent messyness, but its weakness is also it's strength (blendability) so I went ahead, prepared for a few do-overs. Fortunately it worked out the first time. I didn't blend the outer edges of blue, hoping to suggest the rough texture of a stone wall as Wisdom is meant to be standing at a gate at the "head of the street". I still don't know how well that worked.

I of course also maintained the complementary scheme I have chosen for the album.

My first inclination was to make Wisdom as a nude, and in fact the original sketch she is wearing only the head covering which struck me as funny and therefore not what I wanted to do. I decided to add clothing but maintain the shape of the body, suggesting a sheerness of the dress. Seemed like a good compromise to me. She holds in her hand a lamp (yes that is what it is). It is based on a specific style I have used in the past as illustration for Old Testament concepts, to suggest that wisdom is a revelation of God-as the scripture indeed is.

I've had the hankering to work more lately, so perhaps I'll add to the project more frequently. I always work in fits and starts anyway...and I still don't have any good ideas for those stupid praise songs.

Mohair, Mothere

Upon arising this afternoon (hey I'm up all night when do you think I sleep?) I found a bag of mohair in my house. Just sitting there, waiting for me to see it.

It didn't just magically appear from the fibre fairies-and I find it is good to have alternative connections, as the fairies have proven themselves to be quite unreliable-apparently it does come from a real live local goat. Some people my mom knows were shearing their older angora goat; it's hair is too old to be used for garments, so they have given some of it to me (via mama). I have been given much odder presents than this in the past (i.e. porcupine) so I appreciate it very much.


I've never worked with mohair of any type before, so I have been doing a little internet research. I found that mohair takes dyes quite beautifully which is exciting, especially since it is about time to haul out the dye stuff.
I'm not entirely sure how I will use it, though I do know it needs to be combed or carded to get the plant materials out-it has been scoured apparently. Maybe I will felt it or spin it for non-garment use. It is rather itchy, but the inner crow notices it is also rather shiny and wants to touch it anyway-it has more sheen than I expected at least.


I was looking at pictures of the goats while I was searching and now I want one, they are adorable. I've also heard they can be aggressive; they might keep annoying people out of our yard, including the hellions.

Oh and the shoes I've been waiting for finally came, that is them in the corner of the first pic. Shoes + fibre=happiness.

Athanasius out of exile...for awhile

I haven't had so much to post (as usual) as I am spending too much time lurking at other people's blogs, and not doing anything constructive. I did make a dress last night, first thing I've actually done in a while.

Soon all of my supplies for Athanasius will be here, and I can get to work on that. I bought some lovely silk noil (raw silk) for him-It is nice and heavy, and not as slubby as is normal. I am hoping the paintstiks will work overtop of it.

As I have often said, all the deadliest poisons make the greatest art supplies. To that end, I must get out the evil poisonous chrome so I can mordant and dye the underpiece. Yes I am one of those pernicious miscreants who uses chrome! That level of depravity does indeed exist. A walking testimony against Pelagius, that's what dyers who use chrome are.

Anyway, I don't think I ever posted it, but this was the compromise I came to in the design:



The flow is a bit improved, which I needed to bring the eye back to the trefoil. Plus, I still will be able to have my crop (well after a fashion). The earth will likely not be that dark; photoshop rendered it darker than I liked as it recedes a little too much. The background should also be darker if all goes well and the chrome does not kill me-this time. I already know that is how I will die-it's just a question of when and whether I'll get the latest art project done before it happens.

I don't like the way his face turned out in this rendition and will try to go closer to the original rendering when I do it. I've never used paintstiks before, only unarchival oil paint-I do hope the application goes well on that slubby texture!

I fear I may have gotten a tad ambitious with the idea, so we'll have to see how it decides to turn out.

Augustine and other things

Of all the things that have been eating up my time for the last long while, I only have one left-my final practicum. I simply can't wait until I'm finished with it all, I'm going to take a vacation and do nothing but sleep. :)

I did start up with CIP again, finishing three songs from one of their lesser loved albums, God Fixation. Yes, I am indeed still determined to finish! I got going on the main work of the piece, St Augustine's Pears (and no his face isn't that much darker than his hands; the piece is a little warped):




I recently read the Confessions, (from which I used two quotations at my dad's funeral-mom would not allow me to use Athanasius' wonderfully powerful and polemic On the Incarnation-I told her if she's still around when I die, I TOTALLY want Athanasius read! I think I'll put that in my will, as I don't want anyone making the mistake of declaring death natural or good at mine, and I will haunt anyone who says I have gone home!) anyway, I noticed that many of Bob's songs have kind of an Augustinian bent, so I decided to make this a bit of a centrepiece in terms of time and work spent.

This is an egg tempera work, based on modern coptic iconography (not as creepy as normal iconography). I gessoed the panel, mixed the paint et al myself, so it was rather labour intesive compared to what I normally do. I made some intentional "mistakes" to maintain imperfection in the piece. I think it turned out reasonably, considering that it is the second tempera piece I have completed. Tempera is a crazy behaving medium, no wonder oil became so popular when it was introduced!
I may still fiddle a little bit...

Help Me Up

The last intelligible thing my dad ever said to us. Not a profound or deep soliloquy like in the movies, just simple "help me up." So we raised the head of his bed like he liked it.
He had already said all he needed to say.

Goodbye.

(unhappy face here)

Depression isn't all it's cracked up to be. You know with so many people being depressed and on zoloft these days, you'd think it must be so great. Or at least so cool. Here's a news flash: that's so not true.

Alright, I'm not posting anything because I'm not really doing anything. Personal care. Being driven crazy by well meaning people in denial and yelling at them. But not much else.

I did get a nice surprise though, in the form of my self portrait quilt being published by Quilting Arts (in the spring issue). I'm less psyched about that than I was when I discovered my piece had been chosen to tour. Most of the people I know are more excited than I am about it.
So I thought maybe I'm a little out of sorts over everything that is happening, and that's been the state of my life for the last while. I don't really feel like doing much and I'll just have to wait until I feel better. I work too much on whims and fancies. Ah well, that's what being temperamental is all about.

I did some decos the other day and that improved my mood a little. So once the family is no longer taking over my house like a giant speading fungus of destruction, maybe I will get to work on Athanasius. I have decided how he will look and just need to get around to the actual work. I also am starting work on CIP again, after a fairly long hiatus in the project. I am working on Augustine now. It's slow going, but I still intend to finish.

Sometimes things just take a little longer.

Athanasius Contra Mundum

Anyone who knows me is aware that when the new heavens and earth have come, and I am in the City of God, I am going to make a journey to find two people. The first is Jeremiah; I feel so kindred with him. The second, Athanasius, is just one of my absolute heros.

I decided to make a piece of Athanasius on a bit of a whim, and I thought I might document a piece from the beginning to end here. So yeah I'm still in the sketch stage with this one, working out a conundrum already.
The original idea that came to me was of his face severely cropped in half, with three interlocked circles behind him. I know that is technically bad composition, so I drew the entire face. Everyone who has looked at it so far (that being mama and dad) has liked the full face version; I still want it cropped. Once I decide what I will do, then I can start working on the full version of it.
All two of you who may occasionally view the blog may weigh in if you like; which version is more pleasing to you?

Here is the full sketch (yes the left eye is wonky because I figured since it wasn't going to be in the finished piece, I could be lazy with it) :




This is how it would look cropped like I want (with some things moved to fit):



I *really* want to work a coptic style textile into the background. I am thinking I'll work a fair amount of metallics into it as well, and I just know I will swear alot at it for insisting it must have them.

Dawn of Kitsch

I love the internet! You can find some intriguing people and philosophies that you never would have guessed existed. Yeah there's a lot of junk, but there are some nuggets worthy of consideration there too.

On the creative front, I found the site of Odd Nerdrum to be a very interesting read. Not that I necesarily agree with them, but certainly an unusual theory on 'art'. I'm going to guess they aren't big fans of Kant...

The basic line of thought on what the "kitschpainters" call art is proving to be more prominent than I would have expected as I dig around. I've said it for years, and obviously so have many others; the modern and postmodern eras are pretty much over, and being assailed ever more. I suppose once the modern became the very establishment it meant to topple, doom was assured. We are in a transition period these days, and an uncertain future awaits. I don't think we can predict what changes will come yet, though it is apparent some return to skill will be part of it. Perhaps the 21st century will indeed be the dawn of Kitsch.

Quotable:
Do not allow Art to retain its moral authority over ability.

No more pictures for awhile...

I am cursed when it comes to digital cameras. Mom lost one and I just totalled the second one...in less than six months! They need to start making technology Moore-proof.

Last post of the PeTrA year

Petra's last show (as far as we know) is tonight. Aww I'm so sad-I wish I were independantly wealthy so I could've went.
Well next best thing I suppose-Listen to the best band evah one last time here.

Never Say Die, NO!

Year of the Veteran

I got the idea to do this piece for the year of the veteran as a greyscale quilt with deep red accent back in June. It took so long to get around to it because I wanted the portrait my grandma has in her front room-and I can NEVER get anywhere because of the stupid dog. I finally had to get mama to take this pic of it:



This is a large portrait of my Great Grandfather from WWI. He would have been around 25 at the time. I love this picture, I believe that is partly because he looks so much like my brother. This is the main focus of the piece. I played around with different gradations of grey and red, and then added a second photo, taken from WWII period.

My Great Grandfather served in both wars, was blown nearly to pieces in the first one and a veteran's guard in the second. We tried to look up his records once-the number of Joseph Smiths was astounding. He did not have a middle name. He truly was but one of many-so many names in a long list. In some ways I feel like this makes him all the more representative of those faceless names. Of the many, here is one. One who was real, who lived in more than a single line on the list of Joseph Smiths.

I never even came close to actually knowing him (he died relatively young-likely as a result of his war wounds) but there are long stories I could tell about him as my grandma and her sister have talked about him enough to nearly bring him back if only in one's mind.

It seems he was haunted by the inhumanity of a stupid war all his life. He was both physically and psychologically scared from his war experiences (being nearly buried alive would do that to a person) and for the most part would not speak about them. He was, as many others, shell-shocked. I added a piece of silver into the eye of the older version of the quilt, because he had a literal glint in the eye from shrapnel.

My dad remembers him as a 'dour little Scotsman' constantly giving him heck about something-but he was truly generous to a fault-would help anyone with anything. His house was marked by the hobos in the 30's as a friendly place, and my grandma remembers waking up some mornings to the floor littered with young men and boys who'd come in the night looking for a place to stay. That was how my grandparents met.
Some of us also inherited our somewhat *fiery* temperament from him... :)


Anyway, technical stuff; It ended up 17x21 in size, as I am of the school of letting the quilt decide what size it wants to be. :) the top went together quite easily. I dyed and painted the fabrics to get the right range and laid a piece of tulle over the whole thing to hold the smaller pieces in place, because fusible web is like socialism; a good idea in theory, but unless there happens to be a spare Tommy Douglas around it usually gets messed up in real life and falls apart. Anyway. If you know me (and my dear old bertha-yes I named my iron) you know what's coming. Why yes I did melt the tulle. Right on the elder face. At the binding stage. AND I was using a pressing sheet to protect it! Grrrr...

I tried to salvage it, and while I did manage to improve it, the quilt is now wonky and you can see where the new piece of tulle has been sewn in. Sigh. It looked gorgeous before that. But somehow it seems fitting that the quilt should be damaged, since it represents a man who did not leave this life anywhere near unscathed.

Indian Princess

I made this quilt about a month ago for a swap on the quiltart list. As it was annonymous, I didn't want to post until said swap was over (as you spammers might let the cat out of the bag-I know you are like giggling schoolgirls in the area of keeping secrets). Anyway, choices were revealed today, so here it is.

This was originally a design I did for a deco. It's original, but owes pretty much everything to Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh-as I've said before, I rip off the work of she and CRM a fair bit (I'm just "inspired" by them that's all).
The center is whole cloth, dry brushed with oils (the archival nuts would detest me, yes) in a palette based on the medicine wheel plus umber. It's quilted in a 35 weight brown thread, and beaded in a rather random manner. I was quite pleased with how it turned out-and also pleased that someone chose it in the swap!




Here is a detail of the girl's face, feathers and some of the beading:


She will be heading to a new home soon, and I will be receiving a cool beaded quilt in return!

I'm Famous!

Well okay, no I'm not. But I feel as if I am!

I just received an email from my favorite magazine, Quilting Arts. They are retaining my self portrait quilt to tour with them to shows along with 75 others throughout the coming year! This is the best news I've gotten in awhile.
From the wording of the email I got, my quilt wasn't one of the 50 chosen for publication, but that doesn't really bother me-I didn't expect anything but a quick return and a form letter!

EeeEEeeE*grinning like an idiot*eeEEEEeeeE!

All Over Me

Finally got to the city to get some gloss acrylic gel medium so I could finish this one! The song which inspired the last post, this is imputation. I wanted it to look like the blood was literally covering and 'clothing' an otherwise naked figure (which signifies sinfulness of course) . I think it is my favorite one so far-it was fun working with the "blood" (she says while cleaning red acrylic gel medium from every surface within five feet of the painting...).