Which is, I hear, what everybody does. It’s awfully nice to have a window.
(If you’re wondering why I took this, focus on the windowpane in the upper right corner. I was trying to get this particularly weird contrast that made everything outside look painted on.)
There are times when I think it’s ok. Today was mostly not one of them. But this picture is a reminder that those days really do happen.
These are painted on one of those power boxes on a street corner. They’ve been one of my favorite pieces of public art since I first noticed them.
I’ve been thinking about how I feel about my creative process lately. Ok, actually, that’s pretty much how I entertain myself at work. It’s not a new theme at all. So there’s a couple of things that are increasingly true: I’m inclined to keep it to myself until it’s done. Or at least thoroughly enough embedded in my thought processes that exposing it to the scrutiny of strangers isn’t going to make me doubt whether or not it’s worthwhile doing. The other thing, absolutely related, is an uneasy feeling that I just don’t have the connections my more … ambitious projects require. I’m sure there are ways to work with both of these factors, I just haven’t gotten myself into a place where I’m confident of my footing.
On the other hand, it’s the season for lots of walking, and that always helps settle the back burners, and it gets you, dear reader, more pictures.
Have faith that there’s something more than that going on, somewhere in the background. I’m not giving up on making awesome things yet.
I’ve tried three times now to write something coherent about it. But you know, maybe it’s better if I don’t. It was a great deal of fun, lots of interesting people came over, and we boiled enough water to give the poor thirsty masses something to drink. (Also, what a weekend for a major water pipe to break. I mean, it does make me appreciate how wonderful it is to live somewhere with lovely drinkable water at the twist of a tap…)
And next week is all back to normal. Maybe I’ll do a winter craft fair or something and see if I can’t sell off some more handspun yarn.
In about a month, I want to cook something using these tasty-looking leaves.
I tried to encourage them to grow big and strong and delicious.
In the back of my head, I’m working on a crazy idea that is tangentially related to the extra-crazy idea I was going on about earlier this year, but which is very slightly more workable right now given some of my current constraints.
It’s not quite ready for prime time. I’ll try to have a nice meaty post about it soon – but in the meantime, mark your calendars. It’s less than two weeks until Somerville Open Studios. This strikes terror into the hearts of many. My housemate and I are participating again, though, and if all goes according to plan there will be delicious baked things for snacking on while you admire the wacky things we’ve made.
Do check it out – May 1 & 2. The official website has some useful information.
I’m still thinking about three not particularly distinct projects. Actually, I think they might all be part of the same thing. I’m trying to sort through what I think of print on demand, periodicals, travel writing, and pseudo-antique hipster photography. All at once. Not to mention the worrying about exactly how much risk I can handle in my vaunted old age (don’t ask).
But I got a thrilling delivery from the UK: a mould and deckle, so I might just decide to see what happens if one rets denim the way one rets flax … and read the future in the quality of whatever paper results.
Have an object lesson in why it’s basically pointless to try for a specific composition with a low-res camera. Sometimes, at least it comes out interesting anyway.
This week, apparently, I’m taking pictures of things for color… And I do love these bright red tiles.
Maybe I’m subconsciously preparing for the sewing project I want to work on next. Hard to tell.
Sometimes the only solution to an afternoon of faint ennui (is there such a thing?) is home-made pasta. Eggs, flour, salt, and olive oil makes a pretty decent dinner. The rest of it, well, I’m about to run out of black thread, and I don’t think stitching faster is going to work this time. Maybe. I’m going to watch a movie about fast cars and see if that helps.
(While I’m at it, I’m also going to be quietly amazed that there’s a town called Poetry, Texas. Too bad it’s so close to Dallas.)
but I’m fond of blurry work-in-progress shots.
This piece is finished now, aside from a little pressing and backing. I think I’ve got an idea for a way to finish these for display that doesn’t require putting them in hoops. (I certainly hope so. I got fed up with hoops recently, and have started working without again. I need a thimble. I know I had thimbles at one point, but who knows where they ended up? My grandmother would be so disappointed with me.)
This turned out better than I hoped it would.
I read an extremely satisfying book which I got unexpectedly because somebody had an extra galley.
A friend of mine randomly showed up just as I was about to give up on being a civilized human being, and we chatted just long enough that work didn’t seem so bad afterwards.
After three and a half years, I have set foot in my local public library. I have a library card and a mission. Wish me luck.