Creative Blog Hop

I was invited by Lindsay of A Wooden Nest to join in a creative blog hop to talk about my creative process. I have been given a list of 4 questions that I will do my best to answer. Creative process is one of those tricky things that can be hard to explain, but I'm happy to give it a good try.

What am I working on?

Sewing: I have been throwing myself into a project of refashioning, up-cycling, and re-imagining men's old work shirts that are no longer usable for their original purpose. I've been calling the project "Pa's Shirts." So far I have made 3 new garments for my daughter out of 2 shirts. This project speaks to my "mend and make do" and re-use philosophy, while at the same time challenges me to upgrade my skill set in alteration, pattern drafting, and creativity.

Mixed Media: I am continuing my work on The Stitched Journal Project, A year long endeavor that I have been so excited to share with other artists. The Stitched Journal Project is: Makers from around the world creating one "page" or piece of work per month and sharing. It is a project to get the ideas flowing, to process the days in a creative way, to try new techniques and to push past fears that keep us from making something.  It isn't about perfection, or getting it "just right," it is about process and perspective.

When I started this project I had no idea how it was going to influence me and my work. It has become such a valuable experience. It has freed me and taught me so much about my own creativity as well as being inspired by the work of other artists!

How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Hmmm... do I even have a genre? I'm joking. Reading the other blogger's posts in the hop, this seems to have been the hardest question to answer. It's no different for me. While I am not sure exactly how to answer this question, I do know that my work is always changing, my color ways, my interests and my techniques are always evolving. Like I said earlier, I do love incorporating formerly loved pieces into my work, giving new life to old things, finding new ways to show the tradition of handmade.

Why do I create what I do?
Most simply put, I create because I have to. That may seem a little extreme, but the truth is, I can't imagine my life without creating. It is part of who I am, what fulfills me, challenges me, excites me and makes my life bigger and brighter.  

I have always loved working with my hands, stretching my imagination and making things. It is a passionate affair that has been going on as long as I can remember. It helps me to keep in touch with myself, to slow down, to feel empowered. Whatever the creative endeavor; be it stitching, writing, making music, etc. it lets me express myself and be myself. 

How does my creative process work?
It all starts with a tiny seed of an idea. Sometimes that seed sprouts quickly and makes it's way to a full fledged project right away. Other times, it takes ages for that seed to germinate. Sometimes I am making my weaving way stumbling through it all. I find myself walking into my studio picking up the strangest pieces, working on the small, the details, creating laborious techniques, exploring funny ideas.  It's about textures and color and... imagination.

The ideas can come from anywhere and everywhere. A song on the radio, everyday chores, an overheard conversation, the way someone is dressed on the street, and of course, necessity is the mother of invention. I'll often make a list in my creative journal, sometimes a drawing or five and then work those things in my head until they become more concrete, and take shape.

If I'm feeling stuck I love to get out into nature, go for a walk or hike and just keep my mind open and free. Listening to music can jump start my creativity as well.

I don't have a strict creative regimen to my process, it often happens more organically and spontaneously. I am endlessly inspired by my daughter, my family and my community. 

Thank you Lindsay for inviting me to participate in this blog hop, I am honored. Please go visit Lindsay, Kristina, and Ness, to read their inspiring posts and follow their links to others on the blog hop!

Picture Postcards

You might want to settle some, as this post took on a long life of it's own, rambling here and there and everywhere. Sometimes things just tumble out of a person when you least expect it. I thought I should edit and trim down to a nice palatable snippet, but there must be some reason for it, so I'll let it stand as it is. It is a good story and it has a happy ending! Still, I thought I ought to warn you.

I have long had a "thing" for postcards. I started a collection in my youth; beginning with quirky postcards from places I'd been with my family. Then it was postcards of kitschy tourist attractions across the US (I had a rather impressive variety of postcards from The Trees of Mystery! and The Prehistoric Gardens; both somewhat local attractions that I had actually been to on school field trips); which then graduated to cheesy 70s motel postcards from random places.

Later in my teens I took my first trip to New York city; wandering alone - I got lost on the subway, finally found my way to Greenwich Village, bought an amazing black leather beatnik coat in a funky old junk shop, kissed a boy on Madison Ave. in front of a blind saxophone player and started an obsession with artsy black and white photo postcards. For years I kept my collection in fragrant and tattered old cigar boxes; in every room of every flat that I lived in during my San Francisco years - there was always a wall or the back of a door taped and tacked with a mosaic of my favorite postcards. Man Ray's lips, Dali's skull, Frank O'Hara's piercing eyes, Bukowski's knuckles, Braughtigan's hat, Sophia Lauren's collar bones, Robert Johnson's hands, Theda Bara's make-up, Tiny Tim, Cezanne's Atelier, and at least two postcards with b/w photos of rumpled beds - they were like talismans, treasured and packed from place to place.

Post New York, but BSF (before San Francisco) I lived in Santa Cruz, California (a midsize Northern California surfing, hippyish, hipster, happy coastal community). I was working retail in a trendy-semi-edgy clothing store; my uniform at the time as I recall, was Monkey Boots with red satin ribbon laces, stripy stockings (yes, even back then), vintage slips and my Grandpa's old golf sweaters (turns out, an outfit that was not as attractive as I imagined it to be). The music I was into ran the gamut from Howlin' Wolf to Brian Eno, Camper Van Beethoven to Tanya Tucker and... Whoopsy there, I just slid straight from a ramble into a full on tangent, pardon me and my trapdoor nostalgia; I swear we will soon be coming back around to postcards.

So... one day a girl I knew from my circle of friends came into the store I worked at, she told me she was looking for a special black dress. I smiled at her and said, "Ooh, you got a hot date?" and she replied, "No, I need something for my father's funeral." It is a vivid, suddenly sweaty and most awkward moment that somehow, a couple of weeks later, turned into the two of us becoming nearly inseparable friends. I apologize Sabrina if I'm getting it wrong, but it's how I remember it. We stroked our late teenage angst with champagne, cemetery visits and the Singing Nuns; she was a great artist and I was very dramatic. We took up pseudonyms and penned postcards to one another. The Anguissola sisters, she was Sofanisba (after the Italian painter) and I was Persephone. We carried on this correspondence of our alter egos for some time, until life carried on and we eventually lost touch.

Are you still with me? Then I shall continue...

Not too long ago, through the labyrinth of social media, my friend and I found one another again. Sabrina has her own lovely blog called "Schtuff at Home" where you can see her amazing and varied creativity in the form of altered art and paper, drawing, painting, soldering, sewing, and more!
At the beginning of this year when I popped over to her place, I saw that she had joined an art postcard challenge. I saw that she was writing the postcards with two familiar names, Sofanisba and Persephone! Granted these two personalities are very different from our long ago alter egos, but I was so tickled to see those names again and love the project! You can see Sabrina's wonderful art postcards and learn about the challenge HERE!

Call it serendipity or synchronicity or some other "ity" word, but at the same time I found another postcard affair of the loveliest kind in "Postcards from Across a Pond" postcards between two crafty ladies (in digital form), the lovely Bernina, Rachel of Ted and Agnes and Panini, Tif of Dottie Angel. I love this too!

There is just something about a postcard. A few lines, a pretty picture, a moment in time, everything and nothing, a casual missive, a work of art, a connection to another place and time; such is a little scrap of card!

I'm gonna think on it, may have some to-doing about those postcards, yes indeedy.

I'm OK, Your'e OK

Are we?

Is it ok that I have been spotty at best attending to this blog-o-mine of late? Is it ok that I have written a dozen posts in my head and not actually shared them with you here? Is it ok that I have not come to visit you, nor replied to your lovely comments because there just doesn't seem to be a right moment anywhere in the day? Is it ok that I keep forgetting about the first grade field trip that happens this morning and that I am vaguely anxious about taking public transportation with 100 school kids into downtown? Is it ok that I am turning 43 on Saturday? Wait, is that right, 43?

I think it is ok. I'll let you know for sure if we make it back from our field trip in one piece.

Have an a-o.k. day!

This Morning

This morning a fairy princess is home sick. She was in terrible shape and thought she might die, going to school was simply out of the question! However, now that we have called in to inform the school of her dire state and she is safely ensconced in the flannel jammies and a nest of pillows and blankets, she seems quite a lot better...hmmmm.

This morning I have 1998 emails in my inbox. This is ridiculous! This is because I am crazy. By crazy, I mean I do the same thing over and over while expecting a different result. Many of these emails are actually comments from my blog that I read early in the day, thinking to myself, 'Oh what a nice comment, I will have to reply to that lovely person later on when I have a minute.' So, I save the email to remind myself and when later finally comes, it's well past my bed time and I feel badly and think to myself, 'Right, first thing in the morning I'll send off some nice notes.' And then the cycle starts all over again. Beneath my calm, well organized surface, there lies a seething pit of chaos.

This morning I have to start a project that needs to be completed by this afternoon and I haven't the foggiest notion of what I am doing.

This morning it is cold and gray; I am contemplating a second cup of coffee and wondering if we have the ingredients for making scones, but knowing full well we do not have cream. There is no sense in making scones without cream, trust me.

This morning I am hoping that you are all well and happy.

I got nothin'

In the throws of a bout of insomnia, whilst looking at the red glowy (mocking) numbers on my ancient Westclox digital for the umpteenth time, I started writing a new blog post titled, "Old and In the way." In which I discussed a certain doe-eyed shop girl with a bad attitude, a tragic cliche about becoming matronly, the perils of elastic waist trousers, and the fact that The Beastie Boys are now being played on the OLDIES station!

As I was rambling tangential, it occurred to me that my lack of sleep was making me sound at least 'a half a bubble off plumb,' so I thought it best to stop with the crazy and think of something else to write about.

So I thought...
...and thought...
Until I woke up in a panic at 7 am.

Now it's the next day, time has gotten away from me, and there's still a little bit of crazy lurking in the shadows under my eyes. I've left Pony Girl to devour an entire watermelon on her own while I attempt to get some work done and I realize I got nothin' in the way of a post.

I'll just leave you with a little "thanks for coming" new friends and old, and apologies for not getting 'round much these days by way of emails and comments. You are all so ace, really! I am wishing you all a week of good sleeps and happy dreams!

Things I can't do

I was catching up with a friend on the phone the other day, we were trading our current goings-on and I told her of my latest projects, school mum what-nots, my diabolical plan for home made energy bars. That is when she jokingly asked me, "Is there anything you can't do?" I've been asked this before and it makes me feel awkward. I'm never quite sure how the question is intended. Are you asking me this sincerely, is it a compliment of sorts, or is it an obtusely veiled snarky comment? How does one answer such a question, is an answer needed, it is rhetorical yes? One thing I do know, it is blatantly clear that I over think things. I also know my friend was just chatting along as we do, with no ill thought whatsoever, still...

It got me to thinking...

Well, of course there are lots of things I can not do.
I also imagine, there are lots of things that I can do.
Let's make a little game of it, let's name a few of the things I can't do. Also, let's name some of the things I can - do.

For example:

I can't - fly a 747 airplane. Although, I don't know if that is strictly true as I have never tried. It is entirely possible that I can fly a plane if only given the chance.

I can - can. I have been making my own jams, preserves, canned veg and fruit etc. for years. I have taught the engineer to can, we are teaching Pony girl to can, so we all can - can.

Well, you get the idea.

Things I can do but would rather not:
I can change a flat tire on my car, on a blind curve, in the pouring rain, in a party dress and heels.

I can make meatloaf. And it's really good, if you like meatloaf, which I do not.

I can hem your trousers.

Things I can't do but feel no pressing need to do:
I can not do advanced calculus.

I can not climb Mt. Everest. ok, this one is a bit tricky because I do have that "You can do anything you set your mind to" belief but the truth is, I have set my mind to no such thing besides, in my current physical condition, it would mean certain shame if not certain death.

I can not name all the US presidents in chronological order.

Things I can do that are quirky and that I am strangely proud of:
I can make a decent meal out of a practically nothing. Why just last night I turned an old potato, and a bit of stale cheese into a fine dinner. It's a gift.

I can talk to anyone. I can commiserate with old timers, I can curse with sailors, I can make friends with farmers, I can pontificate with philosophy majors, I can harmonize with hippies, I can space out with UFO abductees, I can discourse with delinquents, I can gossip with gilded Lilies, I can converse with cowboys and criminals. Yup! And that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Whilst I am strangely proud of this quirky can-do, it can feel like a curse, as I am far less talented at extricating myself from these conversations.

I can fish. In fact, I am a rather decent fisher-woman.

Things I can not do but wish that I could:
I can't Speak a second language. While I do have very limited recall of my 8th grade Spanish class and my High School French, none of it seems particularly useful. I don't know when "I am a cat, I don't like to work." would be appropriate conversation in Mexico. However, if I were in France, I could ask everyone I see, "Do you have a red sweater?"

I can't Surf. My brother has been a surfer since we were small, he never taught me. I would love to know how to surf, how cool would that be?

I definitely can ramble on and on about things I can and can't do but, I'm done for now.

How about you?