She asked me how old do I
feel…the typical question. For the first time in my life, I feel my age, 67,
not 35, not 18. But I’m trying not to harbor any pre-conceived ideas about how
I Should feel at 67. This process of growing into the present phase of my life,
the Now, is full of pain and joy…or appreciating all the hard lessons I have
learned over my years and struggles with my relationships with the world, its
people and demands, and being over and over drawn back to the work that gives
me the most joy, is endlessly fascinating…working with Art…
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| Self Portrait, Phase 2, after messing it up |
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| Self Portrait, Phase 1 |
I am tempted to escape into
quilting, arranging pretty colors and patterns, and that does support my eye
and my habit and gives me products that others can enjoy and that will keep
them—and me--warm, a practical application of my skills and energy. I am finally
having a quilt made from a top of bright colors and fruits, a cover of pieced fabric with a
history as a tablecloth for a Mexican-themed Thanksgiving, and cloth gathered
from when I was a teacher at International Quilt Festival, the patterns reflect
my various life incarnations…and I am giving to myself, to have it made up, so
I can USE it, not try to sell it…in the summer nights here.
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| Use the Good Stuff--a block for another personal quilt |
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Quilts are Visible
Histories. When I was a child, the Depression was as real to me as my mother’s
memories and stories. My grandmother taught me to sew, and my mother’s friends
gave me scraps of the fabric from their dress making…that was still a real part
of women’s lives when I was a child. Now slave labor in distant countries makes
it un-economical to create our own clothing. Most mothers must have regular
jobs in addition to mothering now,
too.
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| Icon inspired by Picasso |
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I continue to find myself
tempted to spread in many directions, join a group of Surface Design artists, a
city committee to plan the waterfront…I was very involved when the project
first started, painting to music at the Juan de Fuca Festival. I taste--I pull
back. The long drafting table in my bedroom calls with more Graphic Grannie
Commix ideas. I did indulge myself in playing with the Miro show at the Seattle
Art Museum, even though I haven’t seen it in person yet…a portrait of him from
a photo in his own Miroesque style, but probably not the Artist Trust GAP grant
application, since I already have the supplies for years of potential future
work…Stay open, Stay Loose, Go Deep.
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