Returning from Something Almost Completely Different

Tools at the Ready

Yes, it was an inspirational week at Art & Soul in Portland, OR.

I arrived early afternoon the Saturday before last.  Coffee, register for classes, empty the suitcases.  Less than an hour later I am heading for the train to take me to downtown Portland.

Eat.  Explore.  Coffee.  Wine.  Beer.  Powell's Books.

And the adventure of getting on the wrong train.  How was I to know that a new train line would be added last month?  Certainly was not on my old map.  But an hour spent going and returning in unknown parts of the city reminded me of my love for bridges and trains and my need to move on every now and then.

Monday and Tuesday, I attended a class taught by Jesse Reno. Wow! What I thought could be an extremely intimidating class taught by a pretentious ass turned out to be the experience of a lifetime. Have you ever mixed paint colors in the palm of your hand by splurting gobs of paint from gallon-sized jugs of paint topped with pump dispensers? I have and it feels damn good. And then to smear it across a clean surface, or a recently painted surface that you are just not happy with? Jesse is an enthusiastic and engaging artist.  I was way wrong to assume he would be a pretentious ass.   Wednesday and Thursday, I did an about face and took a class thought by Donna Watson. Time to slow down, plan ahead, and restrict the color palette. Restraining yet freeing. Calming. Until my precious, painted rice papers get yanked up into the brayer. I learned much, but didn't learn how to be patient. Perhaps that is better achieved in her 5-day course.

 A similarity between classes: in both I can learn from and even use my mistakes. This works well for me.

 Now, to translate what I've learned into my own art. A little difficult right now. We will be closing on our 'new' home in Charleston, SC, very soon and packing and organizing must begin. I've carved out a little time to create, but mostly what I've done so far is organize a few tools for the photo above.

Flight of the Suburbanites

Flight of the Suburbanites II, 12x12" ©2012 Kim Hambric

Yes, I fell in love with green again.  It may be a short affair.  Time will tell.

This is the second in a series of three (so far).  Flight of the suburbanites is a tale of those who go in search of the newest place to get away.  Is there a place to live where nature still exists?  How far out can we go?  Should one just return to the city?

A recent discussion with a Texas suburbanite set my gears in motion.  After living five years in a new house in an expansive new subdivision set among many other expansive new subdivisions, he informed us that it looked like it might be time to move.  Undesirables were moving in.  The buses were going to bring workers back and forth from the city.  Cultures were going to mix.  Onward and outward!  Or perhaps, he said, to a "used" house in a more upscale, established suburb.

Put on the top hat!  Grab the cane!  It's time for the turkeys to move on out.  Perhaps, once again, the birds will sing.  The trees will be green come spring.  Just remember, there are still going to be skunks, insects, and those pesky weeds.

A Line a Day

My mother's diary.

She was not happy that I took it.  However, it was necessary.

After her mother died, I found my grandmother's diary in my mother's basement along with a few other belongings.  I decided to have a bit of a read.  In those 5 minutes, I discovered more about my grandmother's life than I had known over the course of 30+ years.  I won't divulge the family secrets or set the skeletons out by the curb, but my grandmother's trials of overcoming a not-so-perfect past touched me.  I wanted to know more.

I should have shut my mouth.  Alas . . .

I mentioned to my mother that I found her mother's diary and I was quite interested in it.  I should have taken it with me that very day.  I did not.

Upon my next visit home, I searched for the diary again.  After a weekend of no luck, I asked my mother what happened to the diary.  She told me she had thrown it in the trash.

My mother is quite well known for throwing things in the trash.  Every few years, we had to purchase another set of cutlery, as with every few meals, she would toss a fork, knife or spoon into the trash.  Accidentally, of course.  If I did not clean my room as a child, she would head in with a trash bag while I was in school and eliminate what she thought I no longer needed.

So, when her diary presented itself, it went into my luggage immediately.

I informed her what I had done.

Then I proceeded to make a few pieces of art with some of the entries.

Mother:  Venus and Mars, 10.5 x 10.5 SOLD

She never did see the few pieces I made from her entries.  I did tell her no family secrets were revealed.

My mother was a prolific knitter and seamstress.  She made most of her clothing as a young married woman.  I recall Easter was not Easter without a new dress sewn by her.  As my mother was not much interested in cooking, the household appliance I most associate her is the iron.    A symbol of the seamstress and a symbol of the life of a housewife.

My mother passed away December 22, 2010.  I miss her every day.

However, I still have the urge to take something when I see it and not take the risk of it being thrown away.

(sorry for the repeat if you have already read this on My Little House).

Vestige

Vestige, 5 x 5" ©2011 Kim Hambric

This piece has been hanging around the studio for quite awhile, unnamed.  I do procrastinate.

What name could I assign to this piece?  It was done in the memory of my mother and my grandmothers and their homes.  All three women were, of course, dear to my heart.  Sounds a bit corny when I write it down.  I still get to visit my childhood home every couple of months.  The houses of my grandmothers', while still standing, are long ago memories to me.  Powerful memories.  Ask me about my childhood, and within seconds I'll be talking about one grandmother's home or the other.

Upon looking at this piece, months after its completion, I titled it Vestige.  A trace of something that is disappearing or no longer exists.  Every so often I lie in bed, walking from room to room in my mind, trying to recall the placement of furniture, paintings, and doodads.  I attempt to mentally conjure up smells and sounds.  Some memories are lost.  The ones that remain I will struggle to hold on to for the rest of my life.   Even though these memories bring tears to my eyes, they also bring great comfort.

This piece just sold from my Etsy shop.

Glue and Paper and Paint and Stuff

I've spent the last couple of months playing around with paper.



And paint and glue and stuff (magazine clippings, rub-on letters, vinyl stick-on letters).



Most of the paper is from vintage textbooks. The blue sea above is sponge painted tracing paper. I've been using whatever is found lying (or is that laying) about.




I'm at my happiest smearing paint and glue onto paper with my fingers. Beats the heck out of sewing over my fingers.

The two pieces below were made from scraps. Not that the pieces above contained no scraps, but for these two, no new scraps could be painted or created. These two were the most fun.



None of these has a name yet. Not sure they ever will.


For now, I'm just playing and exploring. Much to the chagrin of my goal-oriented hubby. Perhaps there is a goal here. I just don't see it or know it yet. Time will tell.

Now, I am out of glue and must go buy some.

Venus and Mars

Venus and Mars, 10.5 x 10.5" © 2010, K. Hambric

The diary entry reads, "Stayed home tonight & ironed." There's Venus, beautifully dressed in her house. There's Mars, on the other side of the moon.

It seems as if this will be the last piece in the Mother series. Not sure where to go from here. I am loaded up with lots of supplies for other such quilts. I am not loaded up with inspiration to continue. It figures.

I'm not sure whether to continue on the same path. I'd love to take some time to explore instead of producing. I'm going to pretend that I have never created anything before -- that I've never heard of being an artist. I'm going to pretend that I have never seen "art" before. But I have the need to create.

-- Where would you suggest I begin.

Words and Illustrations and Letters! Oh My!

Yummy, crusty, wooden letters. Brand New To Me! Can't wait to use them. These guys are 2" tall. Just beautiful. These arrived in the mail late last week. I'm trying not to think of ways to use them. Just yet. I have two pieces to finish first (one shown in previous post).


But it can't hurt to print them out once and see how they look. I'm quite fond of them all, especially Mr. Z. Wish I could have gotten an X, but there were only a handful of these available.


I also purchased a print from the extremely talented Aimee Myers Dolich over at Artsyville. This was just so me. Yeah, I'm guilty of watching the ground when I walk. Amazing things can be found on the ground. I do find, that when my eyes are on the trees and sky for too long, I find myself face down on that ground.



My subscription to the fantastic newish magazine Uppercase started last week. As the cover says, it is a magazine for the creative and curious. Text, illustration, art, letters, colors, design. Its a candy store of a publication.

And here is the newest addition to the family. The Oxford College Dictionary. I looked through every dictionary in the bookstore before I found one whose text I liked. The kid said her childrens' dictionary didn't have enough words. She's so right. But now I've got to talk her into keeping the old dictionary, cause, really, I like the way this one looks so much better.

And, yesterday there was a letter. I saw a handwritten return address and assumed it could only be something good. I don't get much mail, so this kind of thing gets me all excited. I wish I had looked more closely before I tore the envelope open. I would have realized that it came from a gallery in New York state. And that since the damn thing was so thin, that it would have been a rejection letter. Every year I enter their small quilt exhibition. Every year I get rejected. Its really becoming easier and easier. Not bothered at all. It's really not necessary to each chocolate.

Listening to Astrud

Could there possible be anyone living who does not have "Girl from Ipanema" lodged somewhere in their subconscious? Certainly not anyone over a certain age (older than I). It lodged in my brain somewhere in early childhood. Years of Osmond Brothers, Three Dog Night, Peter Frampton, The Cure, and thousands of others blocked the area of my brain where this song existed. Sometime after college, after leaving the world of the independent radio station, I was forced to open my mind to older music rather than new music.

The blockage removed, "Girl from Ipanema" was set free.

For most of my life, I had no idea who sang this song. No idea who played that stunning sax. In time, all was revealed and I fell in love with the Getz/Gilberto album.

Playing the CD in my studio over and over for several weeks resulted in this piece.

Astrud, 24 x 20"

I always imaged Astrud singing in a nightclub with turquoise decor while wearing a black and gold dress. I also pictured young couples necking to her music while hiding away in their brown-paneled, basement recreation rooms.

It's such a lovely day today. I'm going to get in the car with my Getz/Gilberto cd and take a little drive. Probably up to Target. Yes, tall and tan and young and lovely me is going to cruise the Target aisles for some new cereal bowls.

Listening to Janis

Every now and then (rarely) I get asked to explain my inspiration for a piece of art. I just can't do it. The words don't come out right. Or my words seem lame. Or while gathering my thoughts, the listener gets distracted and walks off. Whatever.

My inspiration is a combination of music and color.



Three years ago I completed the Women Singing series. Each piece was all about color and music and how they combine in my mind.

I know this video is somewhat lame. But I had to find my favorite Janis Joplin song and it had be the vision I had in my head when I created my Janis piece. This song has gotten lodged inside of me. I know it can never be removed. Kind of a good thing. Kind of a bad thing. Even on the most beautiful and happy of days, the melancholy of this song alters my view of the world. As if I were wearing a pair of Janis' funky sunglasses.

Janis, 24 x 20"

Janis, detail

If a mad scientist were to cross Emily Dickinson, Janis Joplin, and the weird girl in back of the Home Economics class who could do nothing right, you would get me. I might appear quiet and geeky, but on the inside, Janis is raging.

Listening to Elis (Not Elvis)

I just came across this YouTube video on the Fiber Focus blog.



Elis Regina is one of my favorite singers. A Brazilian, Elis sings in Portuguese, a language of which I can understand almost nothing. This matters little to me as her voice is more like musical instrument. Perhaps I should state everything in the past tense. Elis died in 1982 at the age of 36.

Three years ago, I was inspired to create a piece based on her beautiful voice.

Elis, 24 x 20"

No doubt, this does not well enough capture her rich, clear voice.

I'm debating a change of tunes in the CD player to include her. I'm just worried that if I do, that will be the end of the Signs of the Times series. I am much too affected by music when I work. I will listen to the same CDs over and over again until a piece or series is finished.

Are others as affected as I am by music when they create?

Over the tracks and through downtown . . .

. . . to Grandmother's house we go. The Dodge Dart (or perhaps the Charger) knows the way to carry the . . .

So, it's Thanksgiving somewhere back in the early 70s and we are on our way to my mother's parents house for Thanksgiving. Yes we did go over the tracks and through downtown. My grandparent's neighborhood was a grouping of somewhat rundown frame houses built mostly in the early 1900's. Their house was a lovely golden color. I've had a certain color of paint that I've loved to use for the last several years and I'm now just figuring out why I love it. It reminds me of that house!

Upon entering, we are enveloped in a stew of scents that, well, made us thankful. My grandparents would be in the kitchen cooking up a storm. Since I was not a fan of turkey, my grandfather would go out and get me a ham. He would have a slice ready for me as soon as I appeared in the kitchen door. My grandmother would be hovering over an oven stuffed with bubbling casseroles. Staples of the South. Sweet potatoes (still hate 'em), scalloped potatoes, green beans, dressing. None of it good for you.

The table was set with my grandparent's best. Lace tablecloth, freshly polished silver, gold rimmed plates, cut-glass goblets. Even as a little child, I used all of these fine things. No little kid treatment for me.

I never seem to remember going home after the feast. No doubt comatose from all of the fat.

I can't imagine the amount of money I would be willing to spend to have another Thanksgiving dinner there.

Recently, I have been doing a few more of my house-shaped pieces.

I began selecting pieces from boxes of fall-colored fabric scraps.

I soon had a selection that reminded me of my grandparents' home.
I lightly spread on some brown paint to "age" a few of my paper beads (buttons?)

How to represent my grandparents? Birds, of course. And I wanted to include my grandparents initials. I carved a "T" stamp for Theresa and one of my map beads just happened to have the letter "G" for Guy. Why the little red square? I'm thinking that it represents two things. The first is me -- the energy I have left behind in that house. The second is the red dinette set that was in the kitchen when I was very young.

Now I am adding the filler. Trees. MUST have trees. The moon is there to pull up some of the lighter colors from the bottom of the quilt. I made the small "T" into a little house all unto itself. As a child, I never considered my grandparents as individuals. They were just Teddy and Guy. They just went together and I never gave it another thought. As an adult, I know differently. After my grandmother died, many of her belongings ended up at my parents' house. I found her diaries in the basement. Through a brief reading of one, I discovered my grandmother did indeed have her own thoughts -- not always bright, happy, pretty ones. Like an idiot, I told my mother I found them. The next time I went to visit and look for them I found that she had thrown them away. So there are all of my grandmother's thoughts. In a little dark house by themselves, never to be discovered again.

I really wanted to include a representation of their house and its beautiful dark wood door. Since I have become a big fan of text and numbers, I wanted to include the house number. Instead of carving my own, I made a trip to one of those big box craft stores and bought myself some numbers. I felt some other little dark houses were in order. My father used to live around the corner from my mother when she lived in this house. My father's house has since been condemned and torn down. His father, who left his family when my dad was young also had a house in the neighborhood. Always a dark house for me.
And I could not resist placing a paper house on this piece. So there it is on top. Like it is in my memory.

I'm hoping I did not give out too much information. Usually, I like to put up a piece and let others fill in the information for themselves. I'm not sure what to do with this piece yet. I'll just let it hang around here for a while (along with loads of other pieces).

I am putting Thanksgiving House II on Etsy.

Thanksgiving House II, 15 x 10", now on Etsy.

What's it going to be at your house this year? Turkey? Tofurkey? Lentils?

I Can See Russia from My House

I've had such fun working on this piece.
I received a grab bag of maps from Ebay a couple of months ago. One of North America was just lovely. The colors of Alaska and the surrounding sea really appealed to me. I cut out a chunk of Alaska and coated it with acrylic medium and set it aside. The words "I can see Russia from my house" kept popping into my head. But how does one going about doing a piece like that.

I needed more maps. Paula of Self Taught Artist to the rescue. I now have a map that does indeed show how close Alaska is to Russia.

Now that I have a couple of houses, what next? I need to make the Russian house look more Russian. I need a bear. Where to get a bear? Wait! I have an old children's book of fairy tales. Gotta be a bear in there. Sure enough. He's a bit cute and fuzzy, but he is the perfect shade of green. The house is still bland. I need a roof. I search through my husband's books for some Russian text. He'll never notice a missing triangle.
I can't help but want to look more at this beautiful book. Suddenly, the page falls open to the Henny Penny story -- The Sky is Falling. Somehow that seems so appropriate. But what could be falling from the sky. Certainly not a mere acorn. Missiles! That's what!
A quick sketch and then a new stamp is born.
Where to stamp those missiles? Why, I think they should be the foundations for the houses. And those way cool spikey sequins would look like a cross between explosions and stars in the sky. I also need to make the piece look fuller. I will stamp blue on blue for the bottom. Something not too ugly but gives the feeling of death and destruction. Leaf skeletons. And those fish. They look kind of dead too.
I'm going to add some missiles in the blue "sea". They kind of look like fish swimming back and forth from Alaska to Russia. And I'm going to add my laminated paper buttons with nonsense text on them. Love the circle in circle target feel of them and I need some more texture at the bottom.

So there it is. Not really meant to be a Sarah Palin political piece.

I hope I don't have to do one entitled I can see Iran from my house!

p.s. Some new things are going to show up on Etsy. However, I'm not quite ready to part with this piece just yet.

Women Singing

Astrud, Nina, Elis, and Janis (left to right).

Each 24 x 20".

I am going to be hanging a dozen or so pieces tomorrow at Happy Valley Optical in State College, PA. I will post the address and hours in a couple of days for those locals who wish to pay a visit. I am including a few "older" pieces. These four are from 2007. Practically considered prehistoric in the art world these days. I had forgotten how much I loved creating these pieces. I almost always work to music. When I am in doubt about beginning a piece, I'll consult my mood of the moment and select a handful of CD's, press the shuffle button on my CD player, and see what happens.

An unpublished article, from early 2007, hopefully explains the thinking behind these quilts.

A new art quilt series is in the works featuring female musicians and vocalists. The singer for the Getz/Gilberto songs, Brazilian Astrud Gilberto, inspired the first piece in the series. “When I listened to ‘Girl from Ipanema’, the first fabrics I reached for were teals and golds. I pictured Astrud singing in a 1960's-style lounge with teal and turquoise curtains and furnishings while wearing a gold damask gown.” The next piece was created listening to the powerful music of Nina Simone. The stronger, darker tones definitely reflect the strength of her voice and music. Elis Regina, another Brazilian vocalist popular in the 1960's, inspired a piece using gold, red and brown. The last piece in the series “Janis”, was the quickest to be designed. “One minute into Janis Joplin’s recording of Piece of My Heart, and a pile of fabrics was ready to be cut. Very few colors ARE NOT in this piece.”

After the show, I will be offering any of these unsold pieces on Etsy. I do think it's time to put a new little bird on there right now.

Storytellers

This is Storytellers I with detail. It is 31 x 9". Storytellers I and II are now for sale on Etsy.

Here is the blurb I wrote for Etsy:

In our information saturated society, all we are learning is new. What's happening now? What will happen tomorrow? We are forgetting our past. We need to listen to the storytellers in our lives and learn the history of our families and communities. We need to become storytellers ourselves. Our rich histories are important foundations for our futures.

The figures in the detail are what provoked a post the other day about artistic intention. The two figures did not come out as dark as I had intended. I could try to make them darker by stamping over them -- something I knew would not work well. I could paint them further with a brush. I could leave them alone and come up with a new interpretation. I chose the latter. I think it was a good choice. Now my piece shows that the role of the storyteller in society is fading.

So, make my day. Go over to my Etsy Shop and have a look.


This is Storytellers II and detail 31 x 9".

I am also considering extending this series with a few small pieces, perhaps 10 x 10".

I also have two similar, but larger, pieces in the works. Hopefully I will be able to post one of them next week.

I sure do wish there were more people out there who love orange. What a fantastic color!

True Colors

Planting Seeds IV 15 x 15"

For those who have been following my artwork and blog for a while, do you know what my true colors are?

My last post showed two pieces that I am in the process of completing. One reader commented that they remind her of autumn and pumpkin pie. I suppose one could say they look rather Halloweenish. I would say that. Halloween is way up near the top on my favorite holiday scale. I don’t know if my work resembles Halloween because I love the holiday, or if I love Halloween because I love the colors associated with it.

I would say that these are my true colors.

Not that I don’t like other colors. There are few colors that I dislike. Perhaps salmon, and wimpy yellows. Eeeww. The stronger a color, the more I’m going to like it.

It has been said, by many, that one should create from one’s environment. So, if one lives in Seattle, I imagine that they would be encouraged to use green and gray. Santa Fe? Orange, red, ochre, blue. Central Pennsylvania? Gray, brown, dirty blues, murky greens.

Physically, I live in central Pennsylvania. Emotionally, I live far, far away. My emotional country is full of heat and sun and rhythmic music. People laugh and sing. Vivid animals scurry and play. In my country orange is everywhere. Orange sun, orange flowers, orange birds.

I secretly long to drive an orange car.

Aside from my dependable jeans, my closet is filled with brown, black and orange.

I do create in other colors. I was asked by a gallery owner several years ago to keep bringing in work with blues, pinks and purples. They sold well. They still do. I do love those colors. They just don’t speak to me.

What are your true colors? What colors do you consistently create with and live with?

This week's Ebay auction, Baroque Artichoke II. See, I do work in other colors.

Before, During and . . .

Here is a photo of before. A whole tabletop of ideas, ripe and ready to go. What to make of this?

First, I stamped some hands. Nice, but that didn't do it for me.

Then I stamped male and female figures. Male and female together, male and male together, female and female together. This was going to be "A More Perfect Union." That did not happen. It may yet, but it didn't gel.

Then what? Perhaps all it takes is a bit of music. Since the New Orleans series, I have been listening to Cajun and Zydeco music, and have removed the brass band-style tunes. I started thinking of swampy, mysterious things. I focused on a couple of Nathan and the Zydeco Cha Chas songs (go to itunes and check out "Old Man's Darlin" and "Don't Worry 'bout the Mule"). Hmmmmmm. Voodoo? Not really. Gumbo? Maybe. Storytelling by a flickering fire? Very possible.

Here are two pieces in progress. Graphic. Perhaps a bit scary?

Today I stitched them together. I need to decide if I will do any decorative stitching. I have some red fabric bars I will apply with black stitching. And then I feel these pieces will require beading.

Hopefully I will have the finished product(s) next week.

I've Got Style!

Well, not the type of style associated with those Sex and the City characters.

No, I hobble around in black orthopedic shoes (has to do with my bad ankle, not my sexual orientation), old blue jeans and semi-lumpy sweaters. I do get dolled up on occasion, but my style has nothing to do with attitude, clothing or a $30,00o handbag.

I'm talking about art. Up until this point, I felt my work was not cohesive. I went through the watercolor quilt phase, the (very brief) painterly phase, the Asian phase, etc. The stages overlapped. I didn't know what direction I was going in. I tried to force myself to go into a certain direction, but then, almost immediately felt a wall was in front of me.

With my last few series of quilts, I finally see my style. I am it, and it is me. And I am quite happy with it.

I just finished quilt #10 in my series on New Orleans. I have them completed and named. Finished!!!! Uh, except for the hangers. I never do that until I have to. So. . . finished!!! I have been listening to music from New Orleans and Southern Louisiana while working on this series. I expected I would be sick of this music by now. Far from it. After I had written the name on the back of the last piece, I closed my eyes, listened to the music, and new ideas swam into my head.

From what I can tell so far, the closer I stick to "my style", the more ideas I get.

I feel like I've left the faucet on. Gotta get a bucket.

(p.s. this phase could come to a unforeseeable halt)

Nameless

The big one is finally finished, except for a name. Why does this seem to always be the hardest part? I would hate to saddle a piece that took so long to make with a lame name. All in this "series" represent New Orleans. I don't know if all will have the same name and then be given numbers, or should they all have different names?

Any help out there? I would really like to get these posted on my website as soon as possible. Perhaps if I broke the pieces down, I could come up with an idea.

Each of the pieces has some water imagery in it, representing rain, standing water, or hurricane. There are homes, restored and occupied or standing empty. Outlines of homes show that some are no longer there. There are representations of foliage, green and alive or brown and dead. Black figures on red represent the life of New Orleans -- its people. Pieces that are integrated into the artwork represent those who have returned to New Orleans. Pieces that have been sewn to the top after the artwork was quilted represent those who did not or cannot return.

When this piece was completed, I thought about the price I would like to receive for it. There aren't many artists out there who receive what they would like for a piece. I am one of them. I looked up a piece of equal size on my inventory list and was a bit surprised at the price. I do feel it is time for a change. So a change is going to come. I can't put so much time, energy, and emotion into a piece and not receive what I think is a fair price. So today, while my daughter is out of school sick and I am off of work sick as a result, I will go over my inventory list and work on prices. Some will remain the same -- the older ones and perhaps the smallest.

The television will be on for a bit today so I can visit the city through Google Maps. I do spend a good deal of time doing that each day. I can't tell if it makes me feel better, or if it only increases my longing for New Orleans. Whatever. It must be done. Today I'm going to visit the Riverbend section. And later I will force my daughter to take a nap so I can get at least an hour of work done. Away from the computer.

Even More Progress

Another one cut out. I just finished laying this out yesterday afternoon. As soon as the last piece had been inserted, I placed the board on the floor and left the studio. This morning I went up and snapped a photo (after I had spent a while blog surfing), and I will have my first look here, right along with you.

Well, actually, I placed this on the floor out of the way yesterday and spent the last 10 minutes in the studio gathering fabrics for the next piece.

From what I understand from reading the blogs of other fiber artists, the sequence seems to be: lay out a piece, sew together, quilt, and add embellishments. Not me. My sequence seems to be: cut and lay out piece, set piece of foamboard on top, cut and lay out piece, set piece of foamboard on top, cut and layout piece, set piece of foamboard on top. If the pieces are small, I can lay out two pieces before I set a piece of foambard on top. I may do this up to 12 times. Then, usually, I begin to piece the tops together. Sometimes this progresses to quilting and embellishment. Frequently, new ideas crop up and I will begin the process anew without finishing the last set. This seems to be happening now. I still have 9 unfinished Sweet Songs of Birds quilts. But I cannot stop what I am doing now to work on them. I have become COMPLETELY obsessed with this new group of quilts. I'm not going to call it a series. I think I will be doing lots of different sizes and colors. It may not be a very coherent group. It may not be a group at all. But it must be worked on.

I do get a bit obsessed. The Sweet Songs of Birds series required the purchase of many CDs of singing, songwriting, and guitar playing women. A few are still hanging around in the CD player, but some have been replaced with music that reminds me of New Orleans. My blogging lately has centered around New Orleans. My reading is centered around New Orleans. Are these obsessions healthy? Am I a bit schitzophrenic to change my obsessions frequently? I guess it is far better to change my inspirations frequently rather than change husbands or get facelifts.

Do these obsessions and changes of course happen to everyone else? How do you get back on track? Do you get back on track? I need a push to get back to finishing those bird pieces. No one's gonna see them or buy them when they are sitting half finished under a stack of foamboard.