with that awful lace out of the picture and a quarter turn (or more), it became a tent and memories came rushing back as though it was just last night i was sleeping in those sheets and blankets and towels (to cover the dreaded gaps) draped over the living room furniture . . . proving once again that sometimes it’s the taking away, the cutting out that gives us the most. especially when you win the argument with yourself and cut out the part you just never did like to begin with.

i find myself uncomfortably off balance of late. heavy demands and weeks of living with crashed computer have been punctuated with bits of exciting derringdo, though, and to catch a glimpse of things percolating that don’t involve needle and thread, visit my other blog, LifeInTheAlong.com.

over the next few months i’ll be popping in and out erratically as i move from this house we’ve lived in for 12 years to one a scant 3 miles away. moving is not for sissies, as you know. it’s time-consuming, backbreaking work that allows me opportunities to practice remaining grounded in the moment, patience, and decision-making skills as i sift and sort through all that has accumulated (despite my best efforts) (sporadic though they may be) over the past 12 years.

and right smack in the middle of the holidays. yes, there’ll opportunities galore.

but on the cloth side of things, just this weekend i picked up an old familiar head-scratcher:

still perplexed about what to do, i started snipping, and when i cut that damn lace out, bam. breakthrough. relief: tenacity (even if drawn-out tenacity) wins again.

okay. am i working on this piece or is it working on me?

sigh.

let’s review:
day 1: enjoyed collection of and introduction to materials.

day 2: discontent set in. liked the backside better, so back is now the front.

day 3: hate the lace, but like the way layers peek out from under the pink satin camisole as if they’d been sat upon, squished by the pink. when i started the piece, i fancied the fabrics as representative of various layers of my life. the pink satin = the pretty, fresh, little girl layer where i was absolutely adorable to look at and be around. now here’s little pink layer sitting on the other determined layers. i tend to personify and anthropomorphize, it’s true. (which makes me think of judith’s pathways, actually. and here i’ve been too embarrassed to admit publicly that i make up stories like this with my pieces.)

which brings us to day 4/today: i know i ought to take the advice of my stitching sages and put this piece up, tuck it in a drawer, set it aside for a while, but honestly, there are so many unfinished things, so many loose ends in my life right now that i just can’t do it. i can’t. i want to finish something, dammit. and, bless its heart, this project is what’s going to satisfy that desire. i know i run the risk of hating the piece forever and ever, but (for now anyway), the quest continues.

i tinkered around with it this morning, deciding to pull up the ends of the thread. i mean, they were just hanging there anyway (i didn’t bother with knots or embedding them or anything.) as i “worked”, i listened to susan susanka’s book, the not so big life. i have a strong affinity for place, and one of my favorite thinking candies is how our physical spaces support us. as i pulled those threads,

i got sculpture.

i got cubbies.

i got whatzits.

but i got no ah-ha. no magic. no eureka.

and that damned lace has to go.

no time to work on it today – at least not with needle and thread. but i did wake up thinking about this piece and puzzled about it most of the day. am now thinking i’ll flip it over and make the back the front. like karin, i usually like the back of pieces better anyway. (in houses, too.) there’s just something more approachable, more comfortable, easier about backs or wrong sides. i like the way the various fabrics play peek-a-boo when this piece is flipped. only thing i don’t like is the lace. blechkdt. i really do not like lace – at all – so i’ll find something to put over the lace. a patch. like mending.

could work. . .

this is just not doing anything for me . . . except possibly contributing to the fall funk. which is, of course, not good. (the funk or the contribution) when i launched this one, i looked forward to something marvelous appearing. this was going to be the most amazing experience, my breadcrumb trail out of the fall funk forest. i would write books about this. people would name their children after me. but this is not intuitive work, this is not (i hope) from any deep well of knowing or enlightenment. this is just plain random. and moving. desperate, uninspired, random motion, that’s all.

sigh.

i don’t like it any more than my camera likes focusing on the grid of that delicates bag.

the layers are kinda’ cool, but it’s definitely sorely lacking in other ways. ways i hope will soon make themselves known because right now, the back is the best.

and that’s not saying much. not saying much at all.

starting is often the hardest part of any project for me. have been thinking lately of transparency and layers – in terms of my life. (of course, it’s all about me.) no image in mind or even a vague idea of what to do. no car to run fetch fabrics or inspiration. having thought way too much of late, it’s time to move. to act. to start. so i went around the house in search of materials that spoke to me, no explanation needed. just do something, i told myself

so i have a dryer sheet:

a bit of pink satin from a camisole i once wore:

a bit from one of those laundry bags used to wash delicates in the washing machine, a bit of pink lace, and some delicious fabric from a pair of pants that i’ve not gotten around to mending:

cut up a jacket to capture a bit of dragon, something else i’ve been thinking about lately: