today, Henry has eaten:
3 dust bunnies
1 pencil
1 2x2 piece of wood (sample for new bathroom vanity)
1 small poop
1 popsicle
the fuzzy part of a tennis ball
part of a rug
1 chapstick.

just thought you'd be interested in why I work in small bursts…the rest of the time is spent chasing after a 4-legged garbage disposal.

Capricorn Horoscope for week of November 28, 2013

Going into my spiritual mentoring session with the priestess, I had the intention of discovering truths about myself I didn't know before. That meant stirring up revelations about my ignorance as well as my potentials. I wanted assistance in facing my flaws as well as in tapping into my dormant powers. It worked. Her guidance was a potent catalyst. I was able to shed the debilitating nonsense stories I'd been telling myself about who I am. I awakened strengths that had been asleep. What I wish for you, Capricorn -- indeed, what I *predict* for you -- is a comparable experience. To expedite matters, go out in search of a person, adventure, or breakthrough that can help provide you with the kind of prod I received. 

If you can get your eyes on the film, "Searching For Sugar Man," watch it twice.  It is a lesson in not letting self-pity or regret take over your life, and how things have a way…


Was it a huntsman or a player
That made you pay the cost
That now assumes relaxed positions
And prostitutes your loss?
Were you tortured by your own thirst
In those pleasures that you seek
That made you Tom the curious
That makes you James the weak?

And you claim you got something going
Something you call unique
But I've seen your self-pity showing
As the tears rolled down your cheeks

Soon you know I'll leave you
And I'll never look behind
'Cos I was born for the purpose
That crucifies your mind
So con, convince your mirror
As you've always done before
Giving substance to shadows
Giving substance ever more

And you assume you got something to offer
Secrets shiny and new
But how much of you is repetition
That you didn't whisper to him too

nothing worth regret

this morning, i was up early…cajoled an unwilling short-fur pup that he should go out in the snow YES the cold snow…made an incredible pot of coffee with aromas wafting up to my studio right now…and smiled.  i smiled myself to sleep last night, intentionally.  i acknowledged the crisp, clean sheets scented with lavender.  and i thought of funny things as i drifted off - scenes from favorite movies, scenes from slices of my life (the mantis, the llama rodeo) as i lay swaddled in the perfect down quilt, with Henry's head against my neck.  i slept more thoroughly than i have in weeks, months, forever.  i wrote an inspirational speech in my sleep, and delivered it to 150 nervous women in a rustic playhouse in the woods.  strange.  i went shopping with a long lost friend and we bought some horses.  then i woke up early and cajoled Henry outside.
My house is filled with the excitement of a new bathroom vanity, lying gap-toothed, in the middle of my livingroom awaiting some strong arms to carry it upstairs where installation is hoped to go like a charm.  yes.  and "ha."  i poured some of that awesome coffee and came upstairs into the studio.  husband is finally home for a few days and Henry can find care there,  i left the lights off, preferring nature's show through my wall of windows.  but i stopped suddenly.  there, on my new leather couch, lay drawers and marble counter tops and sinks and wooden pieces.  pressing into the leather.  sitting where i do my meditation.  my sacred space.  with no thought to ask "is it okay."  i felt at once childish and also violated.  there is no reason for this stuff to be up here now anyway…it could be resting by its base in the livingroom.  i felt my day shattering, and a good crawl back to bed in order.  then i opened this email:

there's nothing worth regret, Linda.  Absolutely nothing.  Ever.

Same for fear, anger and worry.  Let em go, rise above, get down, move on.

They aren't worthy of you.

and my blood pressure went down a bit and i saw the childish act for what it was.  i moved the heavy stuff to the floor and i moved on to my work table, which by then had the creamiest light swashing over it.  and i declared it a sacred space.  and i declared my heart a sacred space.  and i got to work making art.

for sale soon at Artstream Gallery, NH

sneak peek

from the series I'm working on…Fragments and Integration…this is Fragment2 (not final name), pinned and ready for final sewing…

and since Henry gets more "face time" here, I figured an action shot of bulimia cat was in order….

ok - back to work for me, anyway.  Lots to do…the next piece is huge 9'x6' is the plan.  and thank you, Helen Carter from Secret Lentil, for the woolly goodness!  (i LOVE her site - Protective Gear for Your Internal Revolution)

oh okay - one more Henry picture.  the blue and brown "woobie" is actually our (formerly) new bath rug that he drags around and snuggles with.  never mind that he has many, many woobie blankies.  (the really hideous blue & green area rugs came with the house, and there's just plywood under, so they

 stay. Which makes the room great for a studio.  In this picture, he is under my desk (which is his little den).  God I love this creature.

talk amongst yourselves

a new series, "Fragments," is smokin off my worktable.  3 pieces in progress.  yes - it's the finishing that'll get ya.  But these pieces make me humble.  make me grateful.  here's a small portion of the 3rd one - still pinned and in progress:

of course, i see it here and want to change it up.  but when you look at the whole piece, i think you'll agree it has something to say.  Slowly…fragments becoming integration becoming aha!

PSD coming over for pj's and popcorn. in agreement that next year's calendar will look entirely different - october will be missing the 2nd half on through to the end of november…as she said goodbye to yet another furry loved one that carried her tears in his fur for so so many years…we will refuse to recognize those weeks next year, except in remembrance of who watches her, frisky and newly sacred, from her heart's eye.  And so her fragments are recognized in remembrance in one of these pieces.  will she recognize her stitches? not likely, as they come from my heart and through my hands in secret conversation, in a language not recognized by the ear.  so now to get some heebie jeebies out of Henry's paws so we can watch the movie in relative peacefulness!

let's just face it - there will come a time when i'll keep up with these pages, but that time is not right now.  and rather than spill drivel or waste your time with mindless and endless whining,  know that i am thinking about you, and thinking about this space, fondly.  and in respect for both, will come visit here only when i have something good to say, or at least not the same yuk.  different yuk, maybe.
some good news is that after a thorough - and i mean total - shake up and clean up of my studio, i found not only some missing collages, but…wait for it… my mojo.  yes.  it was there under that plastic tub o'stuff behind the rusty circle thing.  there.  and i am in the process of creating, Alberto Burri style.  which made me weep full dripping tears and snot at the Guggenheim when i saw his work in person.  didn't care.  isn't that what art should do?  move you.  i hope to be able to create a piece someday that will do that to someone.  to make them weep with the intensity of what it stirs within them.  and i will consider my journey unfinished till that happens.  can you imagine?? what it must feel like to have been in the creation phase of something so amazing that it would make a stranger weep in public…make them stand stock still in front of your work and let the tears come…feel their heart stop and their breath shorten…what does it feel like, as an artist, to create such a thing?  does the artist know that this piece is special?  or is it like the encaustic painting i just bought - the artist had thrown it out, and her husband told her to hang it in her studio "just to see what would happen" during open studio night.  i have that painting above my fireplace mantel and see it every day.  and every day, it stops me the same.  but i want to move people with my work.  i think it's the authenticity of the soul pouring into the materials…that's what captivates.  and maybe throwing the piece out was a response to wanting the same thing, and feeling that she was falling short.  i'll have to ask her.  maybe she just didn't like it.  but the pieces i'm working on now- i am in love with…i love the process, the tactile fulfillment of working with soft wool and slippery silk and scratchy burlap & canvas…i love coming into my "new" studio and warming up the tunes and the coffee and some great Nag Champa smoke and stitching till my hands are too sore to move, or Henry absolutely has to go out.  i feel authentic in this series.  and i can't begin to tell you how important that is to me.  i worried that i'd lost my artistic voice…that making production art had stolen away my ability to feel, to express my soul's conversation.  but after a forced time away from art materials, and after spending time helping other artists get their "go" on, i am finally ready to step back into the studio again.  i went to see a screening of Handmade Nation last week with my brother, and it strummed some chords within me…it was the true Namaste…i realized these were my people, my tribe, and that i don't belong in a cubicle and that's okay.  that i belong to this family of Makers, and that's okay.  and it was a homecoming for my heart in a lot of similar to reconnecting with my cousins after all those years.  a tumbler turned in a lock and thunk something fell into place.  i was home.  in both instances.  i could look at these people and say "i am one of them."  and i have to say, weirdly, that the face in my mirror has been easier to look at, now that i know who she is…that trying to fit into the wrong shaped box has been painful all these years, and i'm not alone…there is a tribe of people that i am related to - by blood or by soul…a place i belong where i'm not the strange one…where i'm not doing anything so out-of-the-ordinary.  it feels good to be average.  in this case.  so now i head back to the work table for an hour or so, then to cuddle my patient puppy and listen to the wind and rain howl outside.

so strange today, as Henry & I headed out…the sun was shining as the snowflakes were falling.  sort of a harbinger.  Henry is already shivering when he runs out back to go potty - i can't imagine what the blizzards of winter will do to him!  He has 3 fashion coats already, but 2 of them need alterations to allow for his "business." He has mended my Absolutely Broken heart in ways I didn't think possible.  And in ways that have nothing to do with pet ownership or loss.  He can't possibly snuggle any closer at night, and that's a bonus…no need for blankets and hot flashes with a mini space heater sleeping next to me!
I've been in such a creative lull lately - so so many ideas, but no energy or interest in starting/finishing projects.  I think a good studio cleaning is in order to spark some passion.  I am also finding that a number of projects I started a while ago (some have been sitting idle for years) need to be hidden away so they don't mock me when I walk into the studio.  By having a fresh start, then new ideas will have room to come forth.  I am finding that my interests are moving toward promoting other people's work right now.  and an idea for a pop-up gallery is simmering.  just do it, says the head.  and so i will.  now to find Henry - he ate a large portion of (my side of) the bed last week and may be finishing it up now.

Meanwhile…this awesome T-shirt from Cayetano Valenzuela….

gorgeous & spirit-filled henna from Suzanne Masters...

an incredible encaustic collage by Elizabeth Riker (who originally threw this out!) It's huge and sits above my mantle now...

missing these peeps so very much….

locked out

and knocked overrrrr.

 it has been a while since i posted, but blogger (a/k/a Google) locked me out and refused to let me in.  after resetting my password 9 times, it then somehow made my email go wonky, so it has been a blood pressure raiser for sure.

so, while i have you here…yesterday I met the most incredible little man.  he is not a boy, because at 6 years old, he is an old soul.  he stays up till 2am drawing fashion.  dresses, outfits, accessories.  6 years old.  he is a rough & tumble KidMan who has Sight.  yesterday, Jan from the building took him to Syracuse University's fashion department where she teaches.  Yesterday, his little head almost exploded.  He told his mother "this is the best day of my life."  everyone spent the day choked up.  i came late to the party, meeting him as he was heading home.  his mother could barely talk.  not sure how they drove home.

I want that clarity.  that vision.  that focus.  i want to know with that same absolute certainty - who i am…where i belong…what is my purpose here…because i know it isn't to languish about in my purple bathrobe and walk Henry from time-to-time.

It was a gift to meet Ford Brown.  He is an inspiration, and you should remember his name, because he will be on everyone's lips very very soon.

Jan took him under her wing and will be teaching him to sew and shibori techniques and anything she is able.  Jan is an inspiration, as well.

i am wasting my time, and it is making me grouchy.