The thud on the porch was not as loud as it should have been when the boxes arrived today. I couldn't open my front door! Thank you, Mr. or Ms. Fed Ex Person for so gently delivering the gifts I ordered today. The dogs didn't even freak out! They were stacked neatly in a pile in front of the door so it couldn't open. Starting to feel like Christmas? Nope. 

The kids in class asked for Christmas music the other day. Too soon, I thought. Maybe next week. One class persuaded me to give it a try and it was irritating like sand in a bathing suit. Granted, it was Mariah Carey, but...Anyway, I went back to my instrumental music after that and the kids in the next class didn't ask for holiday music, so I was spared. Starting to feel like Christmas? Nope. 

I look at the three large Santa suit outfits my neighbor got for our puppies to wear together some day. They need a little adjusting to fit the little pups, but it will be worth it when we can have all six small puppies dressed up and playing together -- outside -- at some point. What a photo - a pug and five maltese. Mrs. Santa and the elves? Maybe that will do it in the "try to get the Christmas vibe going" thing? 

Found adorable beads that were just crying out to be made into holiday earrings. Made them and while I didn't feel like wearing mine, I will be sending them off to friends starting this weekend. Just because I am not feeling it doesn't mean I can't try to get the goods going for other people. 

I think of The List -- the big Christmas shopping list I made in November and haven't looked at in a while that needs to be dusted off, no matter how I am feeling about the upcoming holiday.  Usually I am happily making a few gifts, thinking of how to surprise friends and family. This year, it feels like my friends and family are voices on a phone or images on Facebook.  Not sitting around sharing stories. Being in school now means exposure to about 250 kids over two weeks, which means it is not impossible for me to be unknowingly exposed to Covid. That means I stay away from everyone except for grocery runs. Shouldn't that leave me lots of time to be creative and work on my art? 

I try to, and at the end of all the Must Do's every day I consider popping the lights on in the art room and throwing an hour or two at the several projects I've started. As always, the ideas keep coming, daily, but the energy and time are lacking. Makes no sense in some ways. I look back at a week and realize I have done very little work towards my main passion. I long for a project that immerses me in beads and stitch. It is how I relax, how I process the world. How I breathe and find meaning.  How I grow in a way that satisfies me and makes life feel valuable. How can I never find time for that? 

I suppose it is 2020, and nothing is really going well these days for anyone. The political climate is really awful right now. I never thought I'd see such instability in our government. I really think that people that are denying that there have been election irregularities are ostriches with their heads in the sand. Maybe that is a better approach? It is easier not to know the truth about some things. It seems like the more I learn about the person who believes he will be president, every day, the less hopeful I am.  I am not a radical crazy nut - I was an independent voter who has always tried to learn both sides of issues as they've come up in the world -- and can not believe how misrepresented the world has become in mainstream media. We are being divided by propaganda, and I am so glad my Dad is not here to see any of this incredible mess. The great gray cloud of 2020. It certainly is providing cloud coverage for the holidays! 

I miss my art pals, the ones that came to my humble and crowded front room every Tuesday night for years to laugh, snack, and do art together. Over time they became dear friends that were a source of laughter, strength and reason as I supposedly "taught" them classes. Their kindness knows no bounds. Today I was visited by one of them, who brought a huge box of museum quality Christmas cookies. A tradition that makes her happy to do, and her friends thrilled to receive. She actually came in and sat for a few minutes and chatted, and patted Teddie after not seeing her for nine months. Tessa is all grown up now - a testament to how long it has been since we could all get together. I say how much I miss them all and look forward to getting together again. We sigh. 

I pick up the heavy box of cookies after she leaves. They should be in the fridge as they are probably 300% butter. So many kinds of cookies, made to perfection. I think about having one, but then think about the fact that I need to lose weight, that my sciatic nerve is pinched so badly right now I am literally in tears and extra weight doesn't help this at all. I think about a lot of things that make me feel defeated. I accidentally
​bump the box against the refrigerator door and the top pops open. My favorite kind is on top! A beautiful combination of caramel and chocolate. I stop and smile. I think of her kindness in including me on her "cookie list" this year despite all that is going on that makes friends feel like strangers. Well, this cookie can't be shared with the puppies anyway...so...

Starting to feel like Christmas? Getting warmer -- thank you, Barbara. XO

With all that is going on in the big world right now, I haven't felt the presence of mind to write anything about my own little world. Every day brings new chaos Out There, and I try to stay in the eye of the storm here at home. My dog-babies are growing up and are everything I could have ever hoped for, and more. Ellie da Pug is hanging in there, too, though her years are catching up with her. I hope she makes it to her 15th birthday in January, and beyond, but I have to prepare myself for what will be a really hard day, and it could be any day. The birds are amazing and continue to brighten every morning with their voices and antics, even as they make an atrocious mess of their room. The cats have become really affectionate lately...and I wonder what they are plotting. Both are sleeping on my bed at night, and Theo woke me up at 2a.m. last night by kissing my cheek. I think they are plotting a special Thanksgiving dinner and he was having a taste! After all, no one would really know, would they? 

My status as a Leper has begun. We have had our first positive case of Covid at school, and while I was not in this person's "contact" group, I know it could happen again any day. I also know that we are fortunate to learn of the positive cases - that some families might not share that information, and exposure could be more common than we know. Therefore, I am keeping away from friends and family, and focusing on what I can enjoy and do.  So many of my friends are in the "very vulnerable" categories, and I would never forgive myself if I was the one to pass this nasty along. 

I've started a new large quilted piece and can't wait to get going on the stitching and beading steps. I need to be in my "happy place" again with stitch. I love the potential of a new piece and the mystery of the process as it unfolds. I can see where this one is going, but not all of it, so I have to be patient. I've been taking photos of my disorganized house again, and finding some neat compositions that would look great as oversized photos in an exhibit. The informal disorder captured with formal composition through the eye of the camera. I have enough material to work with for years! 

I am going to get back to work on setting up a little shop, too. If not on this website than on the dreaded Etsy. I have so many small ideas that need doing -- jewelry, neck pouches, small pieces, etc -- that I need to let myself make some and see if anyone would like them. I have done this on and off for years, mostly off because I have concentrated on bigger pieces of art.  As I am now a leper living alone, I should have the time! 

Thanksgiving will be different this year, for sure. For the first time in ages my pets will have me home for the day. It will be fun. I plan to clean out the kitchen cabinets and pantry, and make a pie. That ought to do it. Not a favorite day of mine for personal reasons, but we will get through it. Together as a 34 legged family (yes, I counted.) 

I miss my friends, and the laughter we had every Tuesday night as we made artwork, or pretended to make artwork. Covid has caused a great interruption in us getting together. I worry about them and hope that they are keeping themselves centered and okay. Having a group on Zoom just isn't the same.  I am grateful to be teaching and working with kids, though, as that keeps the creative pilot lit. 

Lately, I have become more aware politically and have shared articles on Facebook, which has also caused some disconnect with people I care about. I love all my libbie friends, and that will never change. I just don't like the philosophy of the Dems right now, for too many reasons to go into here. I am disappointed in others who put their hatred of a political candidate in front of friendship or family. I don't understand that kind of anger.  Life is too short.

So, life goes on, art goes on, the world's craziness goes on, as does Ellie's hour of repetitive barking every day at sundown. We do not know when or where this insane ride will end, and just have to put one foot in front of the other, every day. Even when it is painful to do so. To walk in such an unsure world takes bravery and strength for all of us. Every day.

​The great Mr. Difford sums up my state of mind beautifully, as always: 

Daisies and buttercups
Shadows from the sun
Innocence in Paradise
A time for everyone
Faith, mighty faith
The promise no one sees
The days pass so quickly
They will never wait for me

What is waiting? We all don't know. I hope everyone reading this is happy, healthy, and stays strong. Cheerio!



 

Long time no post! I have written some in between the last one and now, but honestly, they were dull. Not that this one won't be, but...!

Puppies are growing fast...Teddie is now a lovely young adult doggie who can run faster than any dog I've ever had, and make it look easy. She is light and agile, sweet as candy, and as I've always said, is an "old soul" kind of dog -- more mature than I will ever be in this lifetime. She is actively in her second heat right now, after which she will be spayed. I finally have decided that I love her way too much to take the risk to breed her, even though it would be a wonderful experience for both of us. If it went well, that is. Wouold be a waking nightmare if not. 

Teaching online for one more week. Four more days. I love love love being home -- but teaching online is extremely difficult for everyone. I can't see what kids are working on as they make their art, and with classes of 46 kids, it is hard to make sure on Zoom that everyone is with me and understands what is going on. The kids are doing really well with the challenges for the most part.  The worst part is when I see all the faces in a class staring back at me, and they look so, so sad. No smiles. Even when I crack a bad joke. Nothing. I see them looking at their own appearances, adjusting hair, changing their backgrounds to something that is "cool," changing their posture to look just right. When I think of how much I hated seeing my own fat face on Zoom at the beginning of this...I can't imagine how a middle schooler does it. Glad I am getting used to it now...and I hope they will get used to it, too. 

At the outset of our agreement about coming back to school, it was said that we would not have to teach a group online and in person at the same time. Sadly, this is what is now happening to my colleagues. Because I am "just art" the remote kids are getting some support asynchronously, but other subjects are responsible for live streaming their class to a student's home computer. I wish them immense luck and patience with what will be difficult in trying to meet an unrealistic expectation. 

On the art front, I am shockingly unproductive. Soon will be instituting the "6:30-8:30" work time slot at least three nights a week again now that it is dark at 6pm. When it has been light out, I've spent time outdoors with my pups, sometimes hand stitching or drawing in my sketchbook, but mostly puttering doing God knows what. They need exercise and "run run" time in the pen and I have to accommodate. My flowers have been so beautiful this year I wanted to spend time enjoying them. Now that the evening light is fading so early, doggies will be walked earlier and I hopefully will be more disciplined! The ideas are still bubbling, I just have not worked. Oops. 

On new medications that are letting me do a few things, though! That is a plus. My PCP put me on a water pill that has let me get rid of the literally 9 lbs of fluid that has made my face and legs huge and uncomfortable. Damn prednisone. She also put me on an off-label use for another medicine, also to counter act the prednisone, that seems to be regulating my energy a little better. I am able to walk more than a quarter of a mile for the first time in ages! I am trying to talk a walk that I know is 1.2 miles at least once a week with hopes of it getting longer. I can't believe it, really. I still have pain when I walk, but with Ellie in tow in the carriage (i.e. my walker!) it seems manageable.

Yesterday the three pups and I met my awesome friend Diane and Teddie's brother Raphy up Hampton. We tried them in the ocean! Finally. They did so well I am sure we will do that again. After they had to leave, the girls and I walked the whole boulevard and enjoyed amazing colors in the sky. It was hard to take Ms. Ellie in a carriage, but worth it. At one point when we were at the front of the Casino, a dog came out of a store and followed me. After a couple yards I realized this and turned around to find a sweet girl pug trying to say hello to Ellie. How she knew we were there is beyond me! We turned around and went back to the little shop her parents owned, and were invited in to talk pug. Ellie made a friend :) 

Today I can not move very well, but what does one expect when one pulls a 20lb dog in a carriage across the sand! The girls are also tired, thankfully, so maybe I can take it a bit easier than normal and get things done around the house. My heart wants to go back to Hampton and just take in the night colors again, it was so beautiful. 

Am working on a project about Munch's Scream painting with my 8th graders right now, and last night I felt a similar sense of color overwhelm that Munch described. Just beautiful. The world is giving us so much to want to scream about right now, and I am grateful for the antidote of watching a gorgeous ocean sunset with my pups. Very restorative. Peace Out, Yallll. 

Oh, the heat! If we didn't have the weather to complain about in New England, we'd be a lot quieter. Getting used to sweating like an abandoned traveler in the Libyan desert, taking in hot sun, and watching the roses bloom and die at an astoundingly fast rate. Thankfully, fall is coming. 

With great apprehension. The Covid numbers seem to be down, but how do we know who to believe at this point? They say for every one positive case there are really up to 10 (not tested.) We are at a point with less than 5 cases per 100,000, so that looks great on paper. But...what if? Figuring out how to operate school and get the kids back into a routine is an overwhelming task. I want to go back, for numerous reasons. Will be having a doctor appointment today to discuss this and get opinions. 

The venom directed at teachers that I have read online recently, has been terrible. I know parents are scared. That fear has been turned into nastiness towards teachers who are rightly considering their own welfare with regards to Covid. Teachers are asked to do everything to solve society's problems -- feed kids, teach morals and values for those who don't get them at home, evaluate and treat mental health, support struggling populations, address racism, etc. Never mind teaching our subjects! It is give, give, give, love, love, love. All. The. Time. And now teachers are saying "Wait a minute..." and thinking about survival, of themselves AND their students, in the face of pandemic. The push back has caused some parents to release angry anti-teacher tirades telling teachers to "get back to work," as if work has ever stopped, and saying teachers are "just lazy" and "don't want to work." It is hurtful and ignorant, and just so wrong. Teachers are worried about kids getting sick. I don't want any of them to get this thing, and I don't want it myself. It is a difficult time, for sure. I will remember those parents who said nasty things on Facebook. Forgive? Yes. Remember? Yes. 

Teddie is practicing her spiraling trill in the front room. It is a very high pitched bark, "Buoy-Buoy buoy buoy," over and over, at something she perceives that is out there. I love that she has the sensitivity to go to another room to let her barkies out instead of torturing me.  Everything she does is considerate. Tessa is wandering around my chair, periodically standing on her hind legs for a quick pick up and hug. She is growing into a very solid dog...! I looked at her today and said "You are a very big girl..." when she didn't flinch it was like she said "So are you!"  She is a funny puppy and pure joy to live with. 

On the art front, I am dragging my feet with the final module of the City and Guilds class. Just can't get my head around the challenge. Found a wonderful procrastination vehicle in reorganizing my massive bead hoard last week, though. Seriously, I should really be ashamed of what has entered my house in these tiny little, unsuspicious bags. I went through all my stash places and found bag after bag filled with strung beauties. Took about three days to unstring and repackage them, and then go through the massive card catalogs to remove any cups that had small amounts of beads to make more room. The small quantities went into a new storage tray system. All the time swearing that I would not buy another bead as long as I live. Eight bead trays later (each tray has 78 little containers) I am seeing the end of this task. Next step will be to catalog them into a database, drawer by drawer, so I can search and find what I need. And...I found these really cool ice-looking chunks at Michaels the other day...so...I am still very ill. LOL! Better than drugs or alcohol, I guess. It is an addiction.

Happy to have two pieces of art out there in the world on exhibit. The Baldishol exhibit, a physical art show,  is still happening, and I had an entry in the online Quilt Festival UK this year, too. Good to know that I'm not artistically dead yet, I guess! I still pray for better health every day to improve my productivity as it is hard to focus on creating when pain and fatigue becomes overwhelming and forces rest. The heat doesn't help too much.  New nerve pain in my calves is signalling me to get a new MRI to know what is happening in Ze Back. Can only ignore it for so long...ugh! 

The world is an uncertain, angry and isolating place right now. I am grateful to have my puppies and my art, my job, and the sunshine. Tally ho. 

  

So much to process in this crazy world right now. Layers of crazy peel back like skin on an onion every day, with no end in sight. I read, I watch, I listen...and still I can't understand why so much common sense is so overlooked. It is exhausting, anxiety producing, and sad. So very sad. 

This week I broke out of my solo-art-mode and hosted outdoor art classes for kids. It was GREAT to be back in that environment again, even though the temperature was reminiscent of a trip I took to the Valley of the Kings in 1987.  Kids are the best artists! Spontaneity, humor, honesty, and such great approaches to creating. We painted with acrylics and watercolors, and it was a fun week. The puppies were snuggled and played with, Kizzy got out one day and got paint on his tail feathers from jumping on the table, and I think everyone was happy to be out and in a group, albeit a little one. Masks were worn as much as possible and Purell flowed as needed.

Am masking up around my older friends for at least a couple weeks after my last class as a precaution, just in case. The virus is still around, although Massachusetts is faring better than other states seem to be. The powers that be debate how to get us back to school in the fall, safely or not, and teachers watch the latest research results like a tennis match. "It'll be ok" then "Uh-oh..." -- back and forth, back and forth. Nothing conclusive yet. Denmark looks good! Hong Kong shut down again! Three teachers infected from working together in the same room using strict precautions, one died! Kids are less likely to give it to another person than get it from an adult! So much conflict. I just don't know. 

Have been taking two interesting short courses this summer. One is Environmental Photography and has rejuvenated my interest in taking GOOD photos again! It is easy to get lulled into smart phone camera laziness in terms of taking "ok" pictures. I pulled out my dusty "good" camera -- a Nikon D40X -- only to realize it is about 14 years old now. Jeesh! So, I decided to upgrade and go back to Sony. I love the design, interface, and photo quality of the a6100 that I found, and am surprised that I did not get a DSLR. Mirrorless tech is fine with me -- the photos are amazing! Here's one of my neighbor's gorgeous dog, Demi. 

And still, the beach awaits. Haven't visited my happy place yet this summer. Must fix that.  Wish I could take the Girls, and when I can't, it makes me not want to go and leave them alone! The struggle is real. 

Am working on completing the last module of the City and Guilds course, making samples and not liking them very much, wanting to just jump in to a final piece and see where it leads. Of course, when the heat is on and I have deadlines for creative work, my Virgo brain delivers a great idea for a way to catalog my beads so I can really know what I have squirrelled away in this house. I won't lie. I have many beads. Too many? Nope. Just many. My analytical "rearrange deck chairs on the Titanic" brain would like to jump into this big organizing project and put aside the art for a bit -- I realize this is just creative anxiety rearing it's ugly head, though, and will delay the gratification of having sorted beads. One benefit to getting old is knowing how your mind works!

The puppies are still perfect, and Tessa is growing into her long face as she reaches the six month old mark. They both are joys beyond measure in my life. They had a new litter of siblings born last week, one of which will be moving to Reading at the end of the summer to live with Tessa's brother. Whoo hoo! What a playgroup this is going to be! I'd love to have more pups, but know how expensive caring for these two will be. Teeth alone! Although I think Tessa will be a dentist when she grows up because she has taken it upon herself to clean the other dogs' teeth. Every tooth, carefully and methodically. It is something to see! 

Off to the races on this fine Saturday. Hapi is calling for his breakfast, Ellie is snoring away in a dog bed by my feet, and Tess has wiggled herself in there, too. Teddie is off sleeping in the other room. Another timeless day of wondering what it is all about, and where it all is going. Cheers.! 

Well, I almost made it.

One year ago today I lost my little maltese  dog, my fur kid, that had traveled through life with me for a long and challenging fifteen years. It was really hard to lose that little bugger, and the loss hit me really hard. I was weepy for weeks.  I tried to settle the loss in my heart and mind by having his ashes on the shelf, wearing his little dog tag around my neck, having a nice canvas print made for the wall. I sprinkled a few of his ashes into the ocean, and tried so hard to let him go. Anyone that has lost a cherished dog knows the pain and suffering that can ensue. I was closer to this dog than I am to most people, and he had successfully faced many health issues prior to finally passing, so it was a little shocking, even though he was fifteen.

When I'd gotten Tilly, I was married. He went to Turkey with me, and then moved to Reading when I was divorced. He gave me a routine that I needed, and let me spoil his little self as much as I could.  As I held him when he was put down, I literally felt my heart break. I cracked. It was vicious pain that both surprised me and confused me. I have had and lost lots of animals, including a cat that I am convinced was my soul mate.  This little dog, however, became my best pal through thick and thin, and keeping him well through his medical trials became my an important personal reason for being, to a certain extent.  

The day after he died, I was accompanied by a small white butterfly on my walk with Ellie, my pug dog. It seemed everywhere I went, this butterfly came.  It was small, very active, and was bright white with two little black dots on its wings (like maltese eyes, maybe?) At one point it landed on my arm and didn't even move when I waved my arm to dislodge it. It simply hung on for about ten paces then flitted away. It was strange to have this repeated visitor show up whether I was walking my dog, sitting in my yard or my neighbor's yard, or in front of my house. I started to think of Tilly's energy fueling the little butterfly, and said "Hi Til" whenever one of these little creatures would show up. Silly, but one grieving an animal does these things! 

The past year has proved to be transformational.  Things are so much better now on so many levels. As I've posted about a lot this year, I now have my two little maltese girls, better doggies than I could have ever hoped for. I have resolved some financial issues that were hovering over my head (including a bill for Tilly's hip surgery) and have more ideas for art than I have time to complete. I have a piece in a show now, and will be entering the UK Quilt Festival this month with new work, too. I am almost done with the City and Guilds Textile course.  My health is the same, but I have suffered less because of working from home due to Covid.  A fun summer lies ahead filled with art, teaching, and puppy love, and I couldn't be more optimistic.

Such a change from one year ago. I felt sick, old, tired, and just plain weary. I was sad from loss, and then got hit with a serious medical problem that socked me in the hospital for several days.  I remember listlessly watching endless movies on Turner Classic Movies channel, thinking and not thinking, trying to figure out what would come next. My yard was a mess at home, my house even worse, and I was not feeling great, to boot. My dear friends did the unimaginable and cleaned up my yard and my house while I was in the hospital, so I could come home and recuperate. I can never repay that kindness. Ever. That was the beginning of my ship turning around.   

So today, as I said above, I almost made it. Before getting up I thought about what I could do to make this day special in memory of my Tilman. I thought about going to the beach. About having the girls see what ocean waves are all about. Once I looked at my list of to-do's, however, and saw the thunderstorms coming our way, I decided against it.  Instead I ran errands all morning and finally finished it up by about one pm. I went outside to move some plants that need planting, and wouldn't you know, a little white butterfly came flitting by. I haven't seen one yet this summer. It danced around the new roses I'd planted, landing on my long stem red, then coming to me and circling my head. I put my arm out but it didn't land. It happily continued exploring the summer growth, following a cheerful, exuberant path in the air. I couldn't help but smile, and heard myself say "Hi Til."

Only a couple tears this time.  It was my goal to not cry about Tilly anymore, especially after a year. Almost made it. Sweet Tilly, you will always be remembered and the gaping wound you tore in my heart is being slowly repaired, one puppy kiss and one smile at a time, as my new little maltese girls grow up into adult dogs. We are starting all over again, and I am sure they will break my heart, too. Guaranteed. This past year has taught me that sometimes the pain of loss can be transformative, though, and lead to better things.  I hope Tilly is wherever he needs to be, looking down at his sisters and helping me keep them in line, and knows he could never be replaced in my heart and life. The mystery of life and death. Keep sending me butterflies, little Till.  Maybe next year I will only smile. 

Summer has started! I have my master list of Big Things That Need Doing around the house, and for the first time ever I might just have the energy to do them! It has been a very strange year. Both difficult and wonderful, and living with such incompatible states of being has been bizarre. 

My precious little puppies are growing up, and it has been so good to be home with them all this time. Beyond being adorable, I am confident that they are both really good, stable, loving dogs. Feels like a dream and like I've hit the genetic jackpot with them. The little one's nickname is "Baby Corona," and she is a goofy little cartoon character of a dog, while Teddie remains a perfectly behaved, tolerant and oh-so-smart and beautiful big sister.  I am the luckiest person alive with these two. Almost one year ago my little Tilly left, and took a huge chunk of my heart with him. I never thought I'd have another maltese, let alone two. They are not him, never could be, but it is a new, surprising puppy family that I'd never expected to have. Like a new lease on life, with new joy every day!  I don't take it for granted.

There has also been deaths during this time, too many deaths. Family of good friends, from Corona and other causes. So hard to deal with for families in this time of limited visitation.  My heart breaks for my friends who have lost moms and a sister, with such limited contact because of the virus. Hopefully, and I truly believe this to be true, that people who have passed can still be around us and know how much they were loved, and how much they are missed. I feel sure any anguish they carried at the end of their lives for being without loved ones is if not forgotten, then let go of, in favor of the freedom and peace of whatever comes next. There most definitely is something after this corporeal state. 

In addition to creating artwork of my own this summer, I am hoping to teach four classes in July to small groups, outdoors in my yard. I am setting up a "driveway studio" with tables under canopies, and it should be a blast! It is hard to get word out about these classes, and I hope word of mouth gets around to find the kids who need some contact and creative fun this summer.   I think paper mache outside will allow for giant sculptures, and we will be able to sew outside, too! I miss teaching in person so much, and hope there are kiddles that want to do art this summer. 

Off to begin tackling that list, on a 92 degree day! Cheers! 

What a sad world to wake up to, on so many levels. Even two little adorable white dogs can't cut it, today. 

As I slept in my little warm cocoon last night, all hell broke loose in Boston. Police injured, a police car burned, and the National Guard was called in to restore order. Why? Because SOME protesters began looting and causing physical mayhem. Certainly not all. From accounts, it was a peaceful protest and both cops and protesters were focused on processing the tension in a non-violent way. What happened to George Floyd was a horrible crime. Inexcusable, and I am sure there WILL be justice for him.  I just can't see how raiding boutiques and burning uninvolved people's hard work can help. It is just additional violent crime, and frankly the perpetrators hurt the cause. 

I don't understand the world anymore.  May the ones who behaved like this get to the back of the line for health care, too. Just terrible. This time in our world is stressful. We are sitting on a powder keg and all it takes is a spark for some to lose perspective.  Maybe some of the fuel is the stress of isolation and being "told" to stay in/away from others? Everyone needs to take a step back, a deep breath, and direct anger where it needs to go, through productive channels. Easier said than done, I suppose. 

It seems irrelevant to be posting today about finally completing a long project that turned into a personal marathon of sorts. On the other hand, it is completely relevant. Being an artist often means focusing energy into something beyond one's self in order to create, produce, and most important, learn, in a positive way.  It always amazes me to see the complexity of the final piece, and how by following the tiny breadcrumbs of ideas, a layered and expressive result occurs. Each stitch, each bead, each thought...all adds up to something. While gorging on the creative process due to a deadline other parts of my life suffer -- my laundry doesn't get done and views of the domestic landscape are less than pleasant. Somehow it feels okay, though, because there is a meaningful reason. The day to day "doing" is temporary, ephemeral, almost inconsequential. With an art object, it is different. Something is coming into existence that did not exist before.  We all get to choose where we put our energy in this one life we are given. I choose to be constructive and creative. 

It is hard to justify the energy and expense needed to be an artist sometimes, but at the end of the day, it isn't a choice. It is a calling.  Being mostly trapped in my house for the last few months has really brought home the fact that being an artist is one of the greatest gifts in the world a person could have. I have never been bored during this time - not even once. Every day has been a blessing. This has been an opportunity to carve out a little time to reflect, create, think, learn, and live in the mental world of art. The potential aesthetic "What ifs..." are too numerous to explore in one lifetime, and it takes discipline and effort to create in a focused way.  In a world where so many are quick to scream, I am happy to be whispering quietly to myself and seeing what happens. 

And, thankfully, it happened. The recent art piece is done and will be in the mail this week to Minnesota. Called "April Pandemic, 2020," it features an image from the Baldishol tapestry, a Norwegian textile fragment that the exhibit is built around. The surface carries stitched text, quotes of firsthand accounts of plague, from historical sources. At first the piece seems "pretty" - but upon close investigation it reveals the fear and ugliness of this unsettled time. When I began reading what others had said about past plagues (sources include ancient Greece, Rome, and Europe) it became clear that our reactions today are universal expressions of confronting the unknown. Whether it is Corona-19, Bubonic Plague, or Yellow Fever, we are a vulnerable lot at the end of the day. The medieval art style is not very realistic and somewhat impersonal. I like the contrast between using this "universal" form of imagery and the very personal and relevant reactions included in the text. Out of tension can come surprises. Cheerio.​

Spindle whorls. 
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I never really knew what they were until this morning when I clumsily popped on to my beloved Facebook with my coffee while waiting for The Legs to get ready for the day. I saw a post from an Ancient Egyptian site showing these delicately carved stones, some purple like amethyst, some red like carnelian, some earth toned. Beautiful little things, like gems. I had to then Google the term to see exactly what they were and recognized the part. I'd just not known it's name or the variety of beautiful forms it came in, especially in the ancient world. One of the hallmarks of a sophisticated society, this little thing.  Hmmm...another source of inspiration for printmaking, drawing, collage, etc.  I never knew these beauties existed and would have continued on in my worl-less life had I not caught that post. This is why the Internet, and Facebook in particular, has my attention. I really do learn new things, all day long.  Sure I have to wade through lots of silly stuff, but it is worth it when something like the whorls show up.  That is also why, partly, my house is such a mess right now -- I actually found my bathrobe in the kitchen and a seam ripper in my silverware cup. My house is a reflection of my mind...say no more. But those whorls are so pretty! 
And artistically useful, darn it! 

Governor Baker reveals his four step plan back to our New Normal post-Corona today. It is for businesses and I can not see how schools will fit into the plan. Things have to develop slowly and maybe by 9 weeks we will be ready for groups again? I am seeing shared supplies, dirty desks, lousy paper towels to dry them, and lots of time at the sink washing hands with soap. I am not seeing six foot distances or masks that I can't see through -- I can hardly hear kids now. I might need to make each of my students an art mask with a clear front so that I can hear them! That would be a project...hmmm again.  I have some laminating film scraps at school that can be sewn into a mask...will have to bring some home to try it out. I get to go to school next week to get artwork organized and shut down my classroom. I hope I don't cry.

It is time to order supplies and am very unsure which way to go with it. What supplies do I need if we do online learning? Do I get things that can be sent home in kits? Lots of paper mache paste, maybe? That I can repackage and send home with directions for kids to mix up and use in collage and sculpture. I am really at a loss. I was having such a good year when this all hit. Really felt like I was reaching the targets I set and progressing well with the kids. All blown away. Am thinking of how to organize the curriculum so that it can flip back and forth between home and school...lots of work ahead. Lots of website work and preparation, lots of letting go of the way I've done things in favor of a new way that might fit this model better. The old dog needs to learn new tricks, but is ready for the challenge. 

Cramming to get my piece completed for the Baldishol exhibit. The beads are laying down in thick crusty glittery patches of yum in some areas, and while I'd love to focus only on that, I can't. So much to do. Posting lessons, giving feedback to kids for their work, online meetings, etc. The hours fly by. Interrupted with bouts of pain and fatigue that are easier to manage at home but also take time. I feel like I have half a life sometimes  -- expectations are full, but my body can only do half each day. Takes its toll in the form of stress, which is a constant companion that doesn't help with pain and fatigue. No easy answer to this one. 

Oh, but those whorls! Cheers. 

Had a strange evening of half sleep with nagging existential questions poking their noses in while I tried to find comfortable position and catch some rest last night. I rarely have that happen. This time, though, it was prolonged. I let my brain go on it's task a bit. Maybe it is because I am behind on my current art project that is due the end of May. Maybe it is because I read another study about RA that said there is on average an 11 year life expectancy drop for people with the condition. Maybe it is because it is day #? of being mostly homebound...I don't know.

I looked around my cramped little sleeping space, my nest. It was another "art supply annex" before it forcefully became a bedroom when friends  put a bed in there when I was hospitalized last year. Now when I sleep I'm surrounded by a plethora of old books, empty canvases, shelves full of supplies, and a million glass art history slides.  I have just enough room to turn around the doggie stairs to the bed. It is cozy! Most important, it is next to the bathroom. It was my first bedroom in this house when I was a baby until I was about 7, when my sister convinced me to switch with her and go live upstairs with our other sister. Her reasoning was that the cat had kittens under my bed (go figure #1) and their meowing would keep me up at night (go figure #2.)  Seeing as I hold dear and precious memories of reaching down through the space between my bed and wall and pulling up a tiny kitten for cuddles on my chest, I do not think I perceived it as an issue. I think there were lots of other discussions and even tantrums involved to make this residence change, but I digress. 

So, from my cluttered little cradle, my eyes popped open about 1 am. And looked around. And made my brain seriously consider my own mortality. What is going to happen to all my stuff? What poor bugger is going to have to empty it all out if I die suddenly? Will a junk truck get backed up and the house shaken into it, sending wonderful treasures to a trashy death with me? Hmmm. Then the thought, I probably have only ten years or so to live now if estimates are correct. Even if I live twenty, I'll never get to use all the cool stuff I have in here. Not to mention all of the beads! Then the thought...and I will never be able to make all the art I have in my mind. Ever. And that thought frustrated me more than anything else! 

So many ideas come to me every day for quilts, sculptures, drawings, collages, etc. All. Day. Long.  My crap body traps the ideas in my head and I crawl slowly forward in my artwork, taking so long to complete each piece it becomes almost trivial that I make anything at all.  So, only the best ideas make it out of the brain, then? Not always.  You need to play and make messes to get at the good stuff. Then I ask, what does it matter, anyway, if I don't make what I hope to make? I will not be here to feel bad about it, anyway, and I try to sleep. Again. 

Except at this point, my sweet puppies have joined me in my insomnia and are coming to peer into my eyes with seriously questioning looks. "Is it time to get up yet? Is it play time? Are you ok?" and then when I speak to them, my favorite look -- the "Can we cuddle up and go to sleep again?" one. Tessa plants a few surprise kisses on my cheek and sniggles her tiny warm self back to her sleeping place in my right armpit, and Teddie returns to the end of the bed, stretching out so that one paw touches her sister. Ellie has stayed sleeping, oblivious to the Running of the Mind.  Then I do the math and hope that statistics aren't true, as these girls could end up outliving me. Run the new brain tape! 

Isn't there a book about Scandinavian Death Cleaning? How depressing. Remind me never to read it! Especially before bed. Cheers!