AFTER A LONG WAIT...

(above: Pictish Cat stone carving circa 800 AD)

The last month has been a slog so no posting. But things are looking up!

For one thing, I found that my very favorite art supply store is still alive and well. For years while working in San Francisco's financial district, I'd spend lunch hours at ARCH art and drafting supply shop. It saved my sanity. Lately while struggling with fabric printing methods and looking through the yellow pages for San Francisco, I found my darling shop, now a warehouse, on Missouri Street.

So off I went and ARCH is better than ever! They even carry Gocco printers from Japan which were out of production for years until a movement, yes a movement, called "SAVE GOCCO" brought them back. So I was in crafter's heaven for a while.

Then in the process of trying just one more thing to get my designs on to fabric, I found a craft ink at Dharma Trading that works like a charm! So I'm creating printed teeshirts dyed to Easter colors for the kiddies in my life. Next step: testing a photopolymer to make my own stamps.

UPSY DOWNSY

More rain. The hills are as green as they will ever get here in California, but I crave more color. So I colored some cotton shirts yesterday with procion dyes from Dharma Trading. Getting ready for Spring and St. Pat's Day.

My fun and games with silkscreening have taught me that I should contract with a firm that does silkscreening as a business. My bathtub is stained with photo emulsion and fabric dyes, and there just aren't enough good results to show for it. Trying to do everything yourself can really be a curse.

Read Frank Delaney's "Ireland" which went on forever, but was amusing enough. Now reading Terry Pratchett's "Wintersmith" which is a lot more fun. The Wee Free Men always lift my spirits.

Back to work in a few weeks and that means a huge life change. I'm working to avoid the depression that is already invading my mind and space.

BACK ON TRACK

Carpal release surgery was performed on my right wrist on Jan 17th--and the healing curve has been much different than that of the left wrist. The left surgery healed quickly and neatly, and feeling came back into my left fingertips immediately. This right wrist incision was icky and oozing for two weeks and is still very painful and puffy, but ice works wonders. I have no tingling and pain in the right fingertips any longer, but the feeling hasn't come back yet either. My doctor says to give it time.


In the meanwhile, I've been researching and testing and messing around with a screenprinting lightbox setup. With rain and clouds for the past weeks, I've had nearly no chance to sun-develop my expensive little StencilPro silkscreen units. I also decided I wanted control over the process so a sunprint doesn't get ruined by a cloud passing by and blocking the sun's UV light.


I spent $40 at OSH on a fluorescent light fixture and then had to try to figure out how to wire it. I finally spliced a cheap lamp plug onto the "hot" and neutral wires in the shop unit with its two 20w cool white rods. I use an extension cord to turn it on and have the unit lying in an Ikea storage box usually full of my grandson's wooden blocks. The covers slide over it and I use that to hold the image and StencilPro unit. I can later use it for real, grownup silkscreening when my wrists have healed and I have enough control to coat a screen evenly.


My first lightbox test was with the Dotted Horse image up above. More on this later (if it works and I don't flip all my circuit breakers).


For the last weeks, I've been driving around to and from physical therapy, paying bills, visiting used bookstores, and watching things on the street. While in Emeryville, I thought I saw a new fountain shooting water into the air near Harlan Avenue. Then I realized this wasn't a fountain. A car had hit a fire hydrant and the water was gushing straight up into the air 10-15 feet. Which was why when I'd flushed the toilet at Home Depot a few minutes before, there'd been no water pressure.


There are so many interesting things going on in the street, but when you work inside an office, you miss it all.


Hooray! The lightbox worked. Now I've got to complete the process and I'll write more about it when it's completed. Glad I did it, because it's pouring outside again today.

A NEW YEAR

My little house is my own again. My beloved visitor has found his own place and has been straight for awhile. Every morning I wake up knowing it wasn't just a nightmare, and say a quick prayer that all remains smooth for him, for me.

I'm back on my "sabbatical", icing/massaging my post-op left wrist each day and preparing to get the "release surgery" of my right carpal tunnel. What is this surgery? The large, tough tendon stretching over the base of the palm is severed, completely cut. That releases the nerve bundles and blood vessels that have been constricted. The tips of my right hand have been without feeling for years. It's like wearing gloves.

After the left surgery in November, I was thrilled to feel texture again with my left fingertips. The surgery on the right wrist will take longer to heal since the damage is much more advanced. Thank God for Workers' Comp. (But then, the work damaged my wrists in the first place.)

I'm looking through my graphics books collection for goodies to print onto babies' and children's organic cotton shirts. Graphics like this:





Years ago, when a friend adopted a baby, I sent her a fancy little girl's sleeper. She wrote back thanking me, saying now she wouldn't have to wrap the baby in newspapers. To me it was such a thrill to buy little girly clothes after raising a boy myself. All he wanted was blue, blue, blue.

Now that I have two grandbabies age almost-2 and almost-5, I am disheartened by the lack of natural fabrics and unique design in kids clothes. Living near the Temescal District of Oakland, I see lots of babies with Jimi Hendrix teeshirts and such like. I'd like to add my own twist to the younger generations in natural fiber clothing.

If I'd had a daughter, I'd probably have dressed her like this:




And she may have hated me for it. But especially for children, I think clothes should be comfy, warm and fun. Also adorable, as if kids aren't adorable enough.

I'm exploring stencils and silkscreening techniques. More to come. Time for bed.

POST CHRISTMAS

Here are two Christmas gifts I made up for friends.

An organic cotton teeshirt with a Dover Kells design on the front for my favorite 12-year old almost-a-man person.



And a cotton tote with another Dover Kells design sewn on the front for my friend/the mom of the above.



I had stenciled a design onto the organic teeshirt (twice), but I wasn't happy with it. I washed the fabric paint out as well as possible, and because of time restraints, I ended up transferring the bird design over it.

The Madonna graphic is another Dover black/white graphic that I colored in via PhotoShop, matching the colors to the original Kells page.

For years I've been collecting books of graphics, many of them historic or at least antique and out of copyright protection. I find older drawings more fun and warmer than much of our modern stuff. Old drawings like this:




Not satisfied with Iron-On Transfer graphics (too chemical and flimsy), I'm experimenting with stencils and beginner's silkscreening methods. Fabric paint is nontoxic and has more staying power than the Iron-Ons. Stencilling is very direct and straightforward for blocky graphics but for detailed things like the faerie pigs up above, I want to silkscreen to catch all the fine lines. There are heavy chemicals involved in silkscreen but only once and then you have your template forever.

A film recommendation: Rented "Once" and liked it very much. Some of the music is quite haunting and can be found on the film website:

http://www.foxsearchlight.com/once/

I like simple stories with lots of open meanings and this one sure fills the bill.

ALMOST CHRISTMAS

No postings for ages, but I'm dealing with a loved one's drug addiction. Anyone who has gone through this knows it is like a living death. You live from day to day; sometimes from hour to hour. You do what you can while watching someone to whom you've given your heart spiral down, down, down. They are oblivious to the fact that those around them who love and care are also getting dragged through the misery, and cleaning up after them. You just wait and try and pray and hope.

For those who haven't heard, young folks are into this new cannabis thing; they cook cannabis into milk or butter or olive oil and when ingested, it is superstrong and the effects last for a full day (at least). The comedown is horrible and lasts for days. Even police officers I've spoken to haven't heard of this yet, but it's all over the Internet. Why aren't these kids in Chemistry Club? Why are they killing off their brain cells? Who knows? This is not the dope of the 1960s or 70s. This is Superweed and it is BAD.

A big clue for the suspicious is that after cooking up this brew, the house stinks of burning plastic for days. Phew. The effects are so strong that the ingesters may nod out.

To happier matters:

Before posting this, I checked out my favorite blogs--the Wandering Scribe at:
http://wanderingscribe.blogspot.com/

then a Scottish artist at:
http://callycreates.blogspot.com/

and Jane Underwood's "My Great Breast Cancer Adventure" blog at:
http://janeunderwood.typepad.com/my_great_breast_cancer_ad/

Now it's time for me to get started on my new project for Christmas, a patchwork book for the little ones in my life.

TOUGH TIMES

I am only one, but I am one. I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.

-Edward Everett Hale

No posting for some time. I've been keeping body and soul together while dealing with some very nasty stuff.

I type this with one hand, my left wrapped like a giant Q-tip after carpal tunnel surgery yesterday. I hit the wall last July when reassigned to handle cash and lots of small credit card receipts at my job. Shooting, electric-like pains shot up my arms. Amazingly, my job tasks have gotten pettier and pettier, thanks to a manager who dislikes me and my "tell it like it is" style. Her "everything is fine" style drives us all nuts, and the only reason our office runs so well is due to her extremely competent and devoted employees who work around said manager.

While away from the job for a few months 0n Workers' Comp, I'll expand my creative spirit as much as possible (one-handedly). Once my left wrist heals, I'll have surgery on the right. More soon.

BLOG ACTION DAY

FROM http://www.sewgreen.blogspot.com/

Did you know that October 15th is Blog Action Day ?On October 15th, bloggers around the web will unite to put a single important issue on everyone’s mind - the environment. Every blogger will post about the environment in their own way and relating to their own topic. Our aim is to get everyone talking towards a better future.


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The new generation is full of recyclers extraordinaire. Craftzine, Readymade, Craftmafia, upcycling, etc. It's exciting. A whole new Craft Revolution is on the rise to fight America's mindless consumerism. Craft on, young people, craft on.

And now to my favorite craft topic:

To my old fashioned mind, the most sustainable textile of all is wool. Cotton requires tons of water and chemicals to cultivate and process. Polyester/acrylics--yuck. Hemp--too rough for clothing. Linen is wonderful, but not warm. And when the cold and damp comes in, nothing keeps a body warm, even when wet, like wool. Wool is magic; it is true alchemy: the fleece of a not-too-bright animal being shorn, spun and knitted or woven up to cover us naked animals. When a woolen garment is worn out, you can cut it up and make it into a rug. You can cut and patchwork it into a quilt filling. You can probably even compost it (my next research project).

Working with wool has kept me going during the past few difficult months. Washing it in a great Australian moth-fighting soap called Kookaburra Woolwash (smells terrific), felting it, knitting it. There's a feeling to wool, an animal warmth that I don't get from anything else. And now that it's getting chilly, I can get out my favorite woolen goodies and wrap them around me again.

COMPLETING THE CIRCLE

More family woes. God, all I want is a quiet little life with enough money to live comfortably and craft my little heart out.

My ex-husband came into town and was very helpful and supportive through these ups and downs. After years of battles over child custody and support, liens on his accounts, family deaths and betrayals, etc., I was able to again see the man I married 35 years ago. A nice man, after all. I felt vindicated.

Now nearing 60, I guess he's finally realizing that family really is more important than money. Family (besides words, as Beckett put it) is all we have. The struggle is not finished but overall, things are better.

I am determined to get Granny Fankle going as soon as possible, if only for my own sanity.

p.s. I postponed jury duty, haven't received authorization for medical treatment yet from the rinky-dink medical service used by my office, but I did pass the promotion test--in the top 10. There may be some hope yet.

HONEST TO GODDESS

Doesn't it seem like sometimes the Fates conspire against us? Or as current parlance goes: "It's the universe telling you not to do something."

In the next week, I have a 3-1/2 hour promotion test, possible jury duty and possible medical treatments, all on the same day, maybe at the same time. Add to it my home situation is in chaos and the job situation up in the air. I feel like I'm surfing; what wave is coming next? I'll be making some decisions.

On the plus side, I finished reading the last Harry Potter (so-so) and have heard a rumor that Rowling is now writing a detective novel. I hope it's set in Edinburgh where she lives and where I would love to live. I've visited twice (not during Fringe or Hogmany) and fell in love immediately with the stone city, the coolest castle in the world, the city of Jekyl and Hyde, of Rebus and closes and men walking around in sexy kilts.


A city where, as my son put it, everyone looks like me and my relatives.

In 2000, I saw flats for sale at around $40,000. Since then, prices have gone up to San Francisco levels. It's ironic that a city that was undeveloped for decades because of its poverty has retained its charm and wonder and is now some of the most high-priced property in the world.

Kilts are actually Irish but the more I delve into Scots-Irish history, the more entwined the two countries are. For centuries, Celts have gone back and forth and have almost created a new sub-nationality.

Here's a "Millineum Kilt" which is unisex and rainbow-like (who needs clans?)

I doubt any Scot would be caught dead in anything this flashy but it looks like fun.

LOS BEBES

For loved ones who haven't seen LB for awhile, here they are:

We did a bubble bath this morning with a Lush bubble bomb. The kids loved it and afterwards, because Daddy was a little whiffy, he took a soak too. Then they went off to the museum and I took a nap.

STARDUST

I'm looking forward to seeing Stardust soon; it opens this weekend. I'm a Neil Gaiman fan and tried to read the book, but it started out too slowly to keep my interest. Witches, pirates, princess, etc. I hope there are a few fairies or trolls in it. I'll take my 12-year old buddy if his mom approves.

I'm reading Paula Poundstone's book with the long strange title and it's funny in her way. She shows some wit and lots of wisdom about raising kids. Show business hasn't seemed to have affected her one bit, much to her credit. After reading her book and thought processes, I'm beginning to think like her. Kind of scary.

I love listening to her on NPR's Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me. I mean, Carl Castle and Paula Poundstone on the same show--fabulous. What more could you want on a Saturday morning while you're cleaning house?

My hands still hurt and not knitting is making me crazy. Maybe I'll try with really big knitting needles. It's the little tiny stuff that makes my hands numb and tingly and sends the pain shooting up my arm. I've done a little felting at home and want to get new photos of Los Bebes up, but after sitting at a computer all day, I don't have the heart for it at home. For fans of Los Bebes, I'll try.

THE SITUATION

On July 10th, while counting out dozens of dollar bills (not mine), I experienced sharp shooting pains up my fingers and wrists. Went to my supervisor who sent me to the Civil Service Clinic where my doctor looks like Jed Clampett and most of the staff looks like they just got out of prison (very visible tattoos, piercings, signs of past living rough). Our Civil Service always goes with the lowest bidders.

The dollar-bill counting was part of a "re-assignment" of work duties, but after 3 days, the 4-year-long (since I've been in this office) moderate numbness and ache in my hands/wrists turned into sharp pain and total numbness in the fingers. My supervisor asked me why I didn't complain officially before. I told her I was raised as an Irish Presbyterian. The supervisor didn't get it, but a fellow Irish Presbyterian coworker in our office did; she told the story of how proud her aunt was for having a heart attack at the bus stop and walking home before she called the ambulance. Hard to explain this stoicism and denial of physical limitations. It's bred in the bone, I think.

I've been going to physical therapy three times a week for the 15-20 minute ice torture, heat treatments, electrodes, stretches and exercises. I wear wrist braces day and night. I always thought these wrist braces were silly, but they do help by immobilizing your wrist movement. The problem is I feel like a grizzly bear with them on, lumbering around knocking things over. For the occasional moments of feeling a bit of sensation in my fingertips again, it's been worth it.

Add to this my grown son moving back in with me in my tiny house while he completes his externship as a phlebotomist and other family/neighborhood flutters, and I've been wiped out. I still have the grandkids on weekends also and I love them dearly, but the one-year old is teething and suddenly burst into writhing pain and disbelief, accompanied by screams and flailing of strong not-so-little fists and feet.

Also have gone to an acupuncturist, which a very sweet friend recommended and even helped pay for since insurance doesn't cover it. The acupuncturist sees the problem going up my arms to my upper shoulders. Working where I do, it's a miracle, everyone here isn't sick or injured.

I'm told that in a few weeks, I'll probably get the "nerve damage tests" which are about as painful as they sound, according to coworkers who have had them before. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

I've been assigned back to my old duties, answering phones, sorting and processing mail, and other misc office duties for now. The pain doesn't get any worse, but healing is slow.

KAZZY THE CAMEL

I haven't blogged for awhile and will explain that later. Thought it wouldn't make a difference, but two friends who lived out of the country told me they enjoyed the blog and kept up with things through reading it. My friends are back in the USA but far away, so I'll soldier on.

My biggest recent thrill occurred while walking to work after a physical therapy appointment (ice torture) and approaching McKinley St on Bancroft in Berkeley, I came across a camel, standing on the sidewalk near an animal trailer. Looking into the trailer I spotted a miniature horse, about 3-1/2 feet tall. The camel was about 6 feet tall, at the humps. A camel in Berkeley.

Okay, here's a photo:

This is the only photo I could find of Kazzy the camel on the Lyon Farm website. She was terribly sweet and nuzzled me like a dog when I cooed to her.

Turning around from Kazzy's kisses, I saw a parking enforcement officer who had stopped her car in the middle of the street and was pointing open-mouthed, saying, "Is that a camel?" So we are witnesses for one another. An elderly neighbor came over and asked Kazzy's human, "Is she moving in to the neighborhood?"

Kazzy was accompanied by her humans as well as her mini-horse friend. They were all en route to Alta Bates Hospital to do some fun animal therapy with kids who need incentive to reach, stroke, and jump up and down in joy at seeing these lovely animals.

I hope they enjoy these creatures as much as we all did.

NOTA BENE

Unfortunately, family/health/work issues have all hit me at once, so no blogging for a while.

I'm still crafting though and will continue later, possibly in a new craftier blog.

IN LOVE

"Art is the enemy of the routine, the mechanical and the humdrum. It stops us in our tracks with a high voltage jolt of disturbance; it reminds us of what humanity can do beyond the daily grind. It takes us places we had never dreamed of going; it makes us look again at what we had taken for granted."
- Simon Schama


Last week I received my advance-order of Historian Simon Schama's Power of Art from BBC America, and have been enjoying the episodes on David, Rembrandt, Turner, Caravaggio, Picasso, Bernini, Rothko and Van Gogh. Below is a photo of Schama on the left, with Andy Serkis who plays Van Gogh on the right.

Schama has the gift of storytelling, and this series takes it to the max with some re-enactment. But what I am in love with is the language of Schama's scripts. Our English language is always in flux, changing and growing and shrinking. Schama uses language as a painter uses color and brushes to enchant our imaginations and attention. He is a master.

On YouTube, there's an hour-long lecture by him re: his book Rough Crossings: Britain, the Slaves and the American Revolution given at Google in Mountain View:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmcgwD8VRmI

The P of A series is also showing on KQED Channel 9 in the Bay Area at 9pm on Mondays. Check it out.

There is also a C BBC take-off on YouTube of Schama in which it seems he participated, at least vocally: Simon Schama and the Power Rangers of Art

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4OcVtEUi6k

Americans find Brit humor pretty goofy, but I love it. It shows the Brits still know how to laugh at themselves, unlike us Yanks.

Meanwhile, I've let the laundry pile up and am struggling with the last chapter of my novella. I need to make that last chapter as finished as the first, and that is not easy. I found my original first draft written 7 years ago and it is still nearly word for word with refinement. But the ending, the ending must be changed almost completely.

KNITTA - WOMEN'S GRAFFITI

After spending millenia cleaning up, how else would women make graffiti?

Here is a tutorial put out by a group calling themselves Knitta who make colorful, cozy and removable/replacable wraps for urban objects:

Here are examples on monorail pillars, parking meters, ambulance antennae and even on a part of the Great Wall of China.

FATHER'S DAY

A photo of my Dad who would be 97 this year. This photo was taken in the 1930s. Born of sharecroppers, joined the Navy in WWII and, after a wartime marriage, settled in San Francisco.

Happy Father's Day.

AGAINST THE GRAIN

No posting for some time because I've been wrestling with a conundrum. It's my sixth year working at my current City job and I'm well aware I've never lasted longer than six years at any 9 to 5 job.

By the sixth year, it becomes clear that I have no interest in, or even conception of, office politics; that I resist change (especially at the expense of quality); and I'd rather be somewhere else. I've tried transferring out of my present department at least three times, but there's been no transfer spot for me. Not even at my beloved library, where I'd happily shelve books all day if they'd only let me.

I know I can be hard to get along with, have a bizarre sense of humor, and know so many trivial things from 50 years of compulsive reading that people think I'm a know-it-all.

A friend once told me she has her own business because she can't work for anyone else. She also doesn't support herself from her business; she has rental property and an undeclared side thing going on that really pays her bills.

A coworker put it well: this is a "get-by job". You come in, do your work and just get by. No risk, excitement, or fun.

My excuses are many: Too tired after putting in 8+1 hours a day to do anything else when I get home except the minimum, too busy with my family, too this and too that.

I comb arty neighborhoods for possible studio space. I've even rented space twice but found I never went there to do creative work. Just too tired, etc., etc., etc.

Don't wait too long, I hear a voice inside, railing me. I've lost friends younger than I am now to cancer, heart attack, and stroke.

To be continued....

NEWS FLASH: HANDMADE NATION

I just caught a mention on a craft blog that there's a new indie film coming out about the hand-crafting revolution. It's called Handmade Nation and the filmmakers are Micaela O'Herlihy and Faythe Levine. You can see a preview here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evDFo6-RBVc

I notice most of the interviewees are of the younger persuasion. I hope there will be more of us Golden Girls in the completed film. We haven't all been sitting back quiet and passive; there were the civil rights, feminist and peace movements in our day, and many of us have been making our own stuff for ages, out of necessity. Who else taught these young whipper-snappers to shop in thrift stores and to use a sewing machine?

Kidding aside, I am SO excited about this film. I think it will be great fun and spread the word and ideas for more crafts and more DIYing. I'm proud to bits of this younger generation questioning consumerism and making their own goods and the fate of this nation, I hope.

Other film news: rented Notes on a Scandal which was okay. The acting was terrific but the story was kind of ho-hum, except for the emotional turmoil inherent in the situation.

Funnily enough, I then rented The War Zone, mostly because I've seen almost everything else in the Video Room, my local movie shop (kudos, they are great). I didn't know what it was about but I adore Ray Winstone and it's set in Wales. Also it's directed by Tim Roth, another favorite, and stars Tilda Swindon, yet another. It was a shoo-in.

Little did I realize that it would keep me awake half of last night. It demonstrated once more to me the power of film and of a well-constructed story, artfully told. As Tim Roth puts it in his commetary, so many "things are said without being said." The emotional impact is enormous, the conclusion inevitable, the truth of it irrevocable. Not for weak stomachs. Serendipity has once again brought me two films on similar themes that exist in different universes: Hollywood and the safe route and art. Correction: Art.

Now can I write these opinions up into a review? My next challenge.

I finished the first rough draft of my novelette, but realize one more chapter is required and some major and minor changes before sending a copy to the Writers' Guild for registration and then embarking on the mission of trying to sell it. More on that anon.

Today is Memorial Day and I want to give proper respectful attention to that observance. Each time I watch the News Hours and it winds up with the silent roll call of fatalities in Iraq, I want to weep: so many childmen and childwomen of 19 and 20 are shown. How can this be right?