Mom

Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy ride today. Strong wind gusts are still battering my windows, and I've been awake since 2 a.m.

But the real reason for my insomnia was that I was worried about my Mom. She's been a trouper, that one. When my dad passed away over seven years ago, she was determined to carry on, keep busy, and live her life surrounded by friends and family.

                                           Nadine Sullivan, at 80 years old Now, at 85, the will and desire is just seeping out of her day by day. She's in constant pain--bad hip, bad back--with little appetite. She weighs less than 90 pounds and, with so little fat to protect her, is always cold.

I want my Mom back. The mom that laughed at every joke, even the off-color ones that my brother would occasionally tell, the kind that usually had my dad leaving the room. The mom that all of the neighborhood kids loved; the mom that kept in touch with my sister's high school boyfriend 30 years after they broke up. I want the mom that threatened to rip off a nun's veil after she publicly accused me of throwing a basketball game in grade school, and the mom that would remain patient with me while driving to some unknown location, ("keep clam, dear") inevitably becoming lost in the journey. 

I treasure the memory of one such day trip early last summer, before the falls began. We got in the car early on a Saturday morning, heading for Snohomish, WA, which is known for its antique stores. It was a beautiful day, and, armed with a map, we started out and were very soon lost. Looking for more precise directions, we wheeled on in to a small strip mall and discovered a restaurant that I had been wanting to try, The Purple Cafe. We ate outside in the sun, and we both agreed it was one of the best meals we had ever tasted. Despite better directions, we were lost several more times before reaching our destination. 

We bought little that day--Mom a few glasses, a small frame for myself--but that wasn't the point. We just enjoyed the time together. Our trip home was even more adventurous, taking us over roads that we swore had never been traveled, mooing at the cows, and finally stopping at a wedding reception in a barn for, you guessed it, directions. Mom wanted me to bring back some cake, and we were laughing the entire day. A day to treasure.

It was just a few weeks later that Mom caught the flu, became severely dehydrated and started falling. She's been in a free fall since then. And it breaks my hearts to see her this way.

I'm dreaming of...

"Garden of Mosaico" Painted papers, yarn, aluminum foil, threadsMexico, with its blue skies and balmy breezes. I'm dreaming of the beautiful gardens at Hacienda Mosaico, where giant palms and gorgeous pale-blue and leaf-green bamboo are set against a background of brilliant yellow walls. Where trees are heavy with bunches of bananas and coconuts, and vibrant pink bougainvillea drapes itself over wrought iron-covered windows.

I write this as another fall of snow blankets the region. What was supposed to be a trace is now a couple of inches. It's only January, but I'm ready for this to end.  You too? Maybe these images will bring you some feelings of warmth.

 "Through the doorway" Painted paper, colored pen, stamps, thread

"Night Palms" Painted papers, gold thread, yarn, stamps

Waking up

After what has felt like a six month sleep, I’m finally waking up to life again. This morning, I found myself looking at some beautiful beads of water on my plastic shower curtain liner. I grabbed my camera and took a couple of shots, sure that they could be used as inspiration for a future project. 

 It looks somewhat like a street-scape at night, looking through a window spotted with rain. I envision a collage of shimmering copper fabrics, papers, threads and clear glass beads of varying sizes. So, this idea is added to my growing list of projects.

Is it strange that I find myself gazing at my shower curtain? Probably. But a lack of sleep will do that, causing me to lose track of time while I stare at nothingness. This time though, I was able to see something beautiful in the most ordinary plastic curtain. 

And even the reason I found it hard to sleep is encouraging. I had picked up a piece I began working on two years ago and had given up on. But over Christmas I started it up again, and now am so excited to work on it that, well, I couldn't sleep. Up at 1:30 a.m. looking at it, trying to decide what to do next. 

The image below is a painted paper collage bonded to interfacing, so it almost has the feel of fabric. It's surprisingly strong and great to work on. I've done some machine stitching with metallic and cotton threads on it, and am adding lots of beading and embroidery. The ends of the threads are pulled through to the front of the piece, so it looks loose and wild. 

One of my goals for 2009 is to learn more about embroidery. It seems to be a bit of a lost art, and classes are hard to find.

So it looks like I'll be doing some experimenting on my own for awhile. Any ideas for great books on the subject would be appreciated. I love the idea of taking a contemporary painted paper collage and pairing it with the ancient craft of embroidery. 

When I finish this piece, then I'm going to begin, finally, on the fabric collage that I had in mind last spring. Here's a peak at all of the ingredients that I've been collecting.

Wrap it up.

 I admit I’m not very good at wrapping presents, which surprises friends. You’re so creative, they tell me, it should be easy for you. But when it comes to tieing beautiful bows onto packages, I’m all thumbs. 

So it’s curious that I love wrapping little things, like pieces of dried bamboo or short lengths of plastic straws. It’s a small obsession that I’ve had for several years. I pull out my jar of embroidery threads and ribbons, boxs of beads and sequins and balls of yarn. Thin strips of painted papers or torn fabrics are also thrown into the pile.  

 

Sometimes I have a theme in mind. But most of the time I choose a color or a texture that feels right at the moment and begin wrapping. Starting with a smooth, flat embroidery tape or silk ribbon (the shimmering colored silk ribbons from River Silks are a favorite) I wind it around the base and then follow with layers of threads and yarns, each layer slightly visible beneath the last. Finally I wrap wire and beads around the outside, holding the underneath layers in place. Occasionally a dot of non-fray glue is used on an unraveling thread.

It's taken me a long time to shed the hard-edged layers of my own self. What goes on beneath a surface, whether it's that of a person or a piece of art, is fascinating and mysterious. Maybe that's the reason that I love these little pieces of craft/art. 

The top piece below, Grapevine, is made with bamboo, silk ribbon, embroidery threads, yarn and small pom-poms. The layers are wrapped in place by copper wire that's been studded with beads.

The second piece began with a small wooden leaf shape that fits in the palm of a hand. I had unearthed at an art workshop, one of those things that one student generously shares with another, placing it on a give-away table, never knowing what will become of it. My sister-in-law, Colleen, dreams of going to Africa someday, and I wanted to make her a talisman for luck. I started with various colors of embroidery treads, than adhered some strips of copper tape to keep the threads from slipping. Beads were added, and some of the beautiful wood was left exposed.

Below is a detail of a piece I call Ice and Snow. As we've been surrounded by the stuff in Seattle for the last few days, I wanted to make something that would remind us of how are lives are changed by nature. The 10-inch length of bamboo is wrapped with variegated blue and white silk ribbon and white embroidery thread. Lengths of spikey silver-gray and white yarn are wound around the bamboo in places, representing the frosted trees I can see from my window. Silver wire, embroidery thread, beads, bird charms and sequins finish the piece. Brrrr. 

Oh no! Snow

Here in the Northwest, we are usually a hardy bunch. But throw some snow down in front of us, and life comes to a halt. We’ve been hit hard the past five days. Some snow, and lots of ice. In our defense, Seattle is built on five hills, so travel is really difficult. The articulated buses that usually have no trouble navigating around the city are useless on ice. 

Last night, it snowed six inches. I stayed up until 2 am watching it come down, so pristine and quiet. When I woke this morning and peaked out the window of my condo, some wonderful people had built the greatest snowman. It had a traditional carrot stick nose and foil-wrapped candy for its eyes, nose and mouth. An elegant top hat dressed its head. What a gift.

I wrapped myself up and went outside, camera in hand. And when I turned the corner, I discovered a tree had snapped in half and landed on top of the car owned by the couple who had made the snowman for us. 

 

Sometimes, city life can be a bit isolating. We busily go about our lives, nodding to neighbors as we pass in the hallways. But today, neighbors came out to help with saws in hand and brooms to knock snow off the  branches of other trees. 

Snow and ice can be treacherous. But it also forces us to slow down and perhaps get to know a neighbor a little more. And that’s no small thing.