I have begun collecting items that do not take up space in my home.

 

 

 

 

Morris

Southwest City




Sapulpa

 

 

 

They are all pretty great, but this one is the best because it is mine.

 

(Had to edit out the rust spot)

I can see it from my window. 

(not my house)

                           

There's even a little light on top to keep the airplanes away,

which I will post a photo of as soon as I figure out the light settings.

Wild Oats Part One

I have been living in the sewing basket lately, for Love and money:

the Kid's winter coat

My friend Elf's coat, he's a dapper mountain man

And my friend Elf's pants, because he's also an earthbender

these pants nearly kicked my ass, I tell ya. Never thought I'd get then done

Kimono for the Kid

The big Boro blanket has become all-consuming to the point that it warrants its own post; stay posted.

every stitch a delightful waste of time

Reworked my Dad's old moccasins (After and Before) into the Houseshoes of Slack,

to which he responds:

"Those shoes !
Resurrected !
Formerly a work of the most cheaply paid coolies, now transformed into a work of art that reminds me of the ancient skills of dedicated artisans who built and painted the great pyramids, the Roman colossus, engineered the worlds' first telescope with delicate, precise curvatures to match the natural state of the earth within a galactic state of magnification - yes - all this you've accomplished by rejuvenating the humble moccasin, transforming them into a wonderful kaleidoscope of colours in binding and decoration. The wearer of these coverings would be the envy of every right-thinking bipedalian. Nice work !"

The hairy parts of the moccasins got repurposed further into a finger tab for the kid's new bow.
New, as in she got it for Christmas.

Mysterious Object

Center stage, silver-flecked whiteness and nearly perfect roundness.

     mad·stone, noun

     Definition of MADSTONE, by Merriam-Webster

a stony concretion (as a hair ball taken from the stomach of a deer) supposed formerly in folklore and by some physicians to counteract the poisonous effects of the bite of an animal (as one affected with rabies)

Pretty sure it ain't that, but it's as good a story as any, considering I like stories. I didn't take it from a deer's stomach, just found it near the curb of a suburban Texas street while on an afternoon walkabout. Might be a marble or the gullet-stone of a moa. My friend the hoodoo dude has one too.

A Thing Worth Doing

the Munsell Hue Color Test (use Google Chrome for best results)

it looks like this

and it's slightly maddening. So far, my best score is an 8, because the bleens are hard.

Inspiration

BORO!

(I'm shocked to say that Wikipedia has no wisdom to offer about this)

I first read about boro at Donna Watson's blog, layers

And there's more here and here (best photos)

Boro is a hand-sewing method of patching clothes and other textile goods, used in pre-industrial Japan.
As in, if you want fabric, you've got to spin the thread and weave the cloth yourself, and when it wears through as fabric generally does, you either create an entirely new garment, or work with what you've got.
Boro patching is an art form all its own, with a wise frugality. Much of the fabric is blue or indigo, like my old workpants I was inspired to improve.

the butt part seems to wear out first

the circled-with-stitches hole is where i stuck a boxcutter into my leg while cutting wine-red carpet for my van floor. No bloodstains, just paint



indigo fabric is supposed to be flame-retardant, so this is a good location for it; when things unintended happen to catch fire i generally stomp madly on them.


That was so much fun i moved on to my quilt. I made it the first year that Lily I moved back, and it's just too good to throw out.



absolutely ratty



So I've started sewing on my crazy patch squares that I had been waiting to make use of til I had a whole blanket's worth. Just a plain running stitch, with some backing fabric to hold back the groady parts.





if you look closely you can see little white stitches. After 3 days working at it I can feel them when I pinch needle between thumb &forefinger, a tired twinge in the muscle of my forearm. Nicely comforting.

My Dad is an artist too

He sends me copies of ink drawings from his sketchbook. 

Sometimes i translate them into paintings...

(this background is a rather hideous pink in real life. i like it much better here.)

The Nail from Christ's Left Hand, TransSubstantiated from Iron to Wood

( i make up titles for them too)