A set of coordinated brown and tan hand dyes reminded me of how much I love fabric. I am grateful to the people who color it, so that I cna use it to make things from. I like the interaction of weave and color to make this thing that drapes and stretches a little and lives. I have feelings about fabric (affection, wonder, joy) that I don't get with other materials like paper or clay. It might be practice, that gives me a feel for it and then an affection for it. It might have been the other way around, that I liked fabric and worked more with it than other materials, and now I am just busy liking my own mastery. 

Which ever way it goes, or if I am actually stuck in some kind of feedback loop, I love fabric. 

I just ran across four things that have stacked up to provide me with a pointed reminder about creativity, and making things. The things that conspired to make me think are Kirsty Hall encouraging people to make rubbish, Kirsty again, working with kids on an art project, advice to writers (which I read obsessively because a. I can't write and I read a great deal so I am riveted by the process by which people produce these books I love and b. creativity is creativity and no advice should go unconsidered) which is worth reading the comments to as well, and this iphone wallpaper which just makes me laugh.

In 2007 I made a fabric postcard almost every day. That project started this blog. That time was  transformational, in a couple of ways.

Focus: Until I started the postcard project, I had no particular focus. I had a lot of different materials, I tried many many different processes, and I never got much better at any of them. Once I'd defined my parameters (size, materials, work from stash) I realized I preferred working with fabric and thread, on the sewing machine. Having that knowledge, I started to develop my own process and vocabulary.

Practice: Daily practice makes you better. At anything. Any sport, any art, any process – if you practice, you will improve. Having improved, your range expands, and the things you can do are closer.

Making mistakes: I made 330 fabric postcards. Of those, 20 are really outstanding. Another 30 or so are pretty good. 150 are completely mediocre. 130 are truly dreadful and I have hidden them away and will not show them to anyone. And a surprising set of 15 are the sparks; those objects that started me in a particular direction that has opened out into an astonishing body of work. The most interesting thing about the sparks? They are drawn almost equally from the outstanding and truly dreadful. The best and the worst things that I did in a year. Not from the mediocre. Not from the pretty good.

I like my backgrounds. It took most of a year to refine the way I make them, which wasn't what I expected at all. I thought once I knew what I liked (raw edges, stitches that hold the pieces down and together, coordinating thread colors, a stiffish supporting) I could just bang them out and think about other things. Except, that has not been the case. I still like to experiment with variations.

This is the background for the eyeballing chicken from the previous post. I thought you might like to see it more like a landscape, and less like a background. 

When I was taking pictures of Bob's chickens, this one was stalking me, and glaring at me. This is the best picture of her, in all her perplexed fury. I'll make one last chicken piece from this picture. Then it is time to think of other things. Like leaves. Or maybe fish. Or fossils. 

I did sew today, but it was only some of the last batch of snakes. I seem to be paralyzed by heat and tiredness. As I picked up the snakes I realized I need another large project that I can use to work on when I have fewer braincells, because these guys are almost done. 

Here is Bob's chicken with a good deal more thread applied. I am particularly proud of the dark green highlights in his tail, which are really visible in real life. 

I fell off Kaboose on Thursday – mostly I have road rash because I was riding bareback in shorts because it was incredibly hot, and I faceplanted in a sandpile. I got back on then, and have ridden her a couple times since, including today in a clinic. The instructor said "when you ride second level" which was absurdly encouraging. Bob rode Penny, and felt some completely new things and was so exhilarated! 

I have to finish some minor details on this rooster, and photograph and mount it, and I can deliver them both to Bob and Leonor over the weekend. 

I finished the background for Bob's rooster, and got the silk painted and composed on the background. Now all I have to do is start stitching. Which is generally my favorite part.

It is meditative, and kind of boring, but it gives definition to all the parts I've laid in place, and the sewing machine makes a noise I like, and I can listen to my music if I want or listen to nothing much if I choose. Things are too noisy to listen to voices, so the news or podcasts don't work so well. Which, given the news these days, is just fine, really. 

This is a detail of a piece called Andy's River. I was thinking of Andy Goldsworthy, but also my neighbor Andy and his daughter River, when I was stitching this. I just entered it into the Northampton Arts Council Follow the River exhibit. I'm excited that people are thinking about the river as a whole, and how we live in this watershed. It also sounded like they were asking for this specific piece, clearly I feel it is a good match!

The whole piece looks like this:

Andy's River, 2009, fabric and stitching, 13"x22"

And I finished Bob's hen. I have a lovely picture of his rooster to work on next. And a new blue background. 

The dressage show as wonderful but exhausting. Kaboose did well, we got 65% in one test, and eliminated in the other. That was entirely pilot error. One friend asked if I needed a GPS, and another decided I was doing some kind of music-less freestyle where you make up your own test. The scores on the E test were excellent, so next time we'll remember the test and really bang it out of the park. 

We have named them and given the big girls eyelashes. Billy is the smaller hippo, Julia is the larger hippo, and Cecily is the rhino. 

Edited to add: the pattern is not mine, it is Simplicity 2394, the fabric is just some crazy stuff we liked at Joann's, you only need about 1/2 of what they list in the directions, and we like the small heads on the larger bodies better. Al thinks they are wonderful, which, since he tends not to notice toys unless they are wonderful, is a pretty good compliment. 

I have a dressage show tomorrow, so I will be busy with a lot of horse things. 

Today I was working on Bob's chicken

and finished the (beautifully flowered) rhinoceros.