A Quilt on a Brass Bed

Sunlight, shining through the lace curtains, bathed the room in dappled shadow. It has an old world feel; walls painted a soft green, the woodwork a gleaming white, and the pine plank floor covered in a multicoloured rag rug.

I see the antique bed against the far wall, old and brass, dull and tarnished. It’s covered in a quilt, pieced together by my great grandmother’s hand.

Fabric scraps, cut and sewn together, create a riot of colour and pattern. Ginghams, checks and tiny florals repeat in a geometric patchwork design.  Everyday fabrics reworked into something practical, yet something to be cherished.

I can’t imagine the number of painstaking hours required to create this beautiful quilt. The long winter evenings spent cutting, piecing and sewing.

Did she know that she was creating a family heirloom? Or did she simply do what was practical; making something functional to keep her family comfortable and warm.

The colours have faded over time, but the sentiment has stayed strong. This patchwork quilt is a gift from the past, to be valued and treasured.

Purge

  

Purge v to rid of people or things considered undesirable or

             harmful.

This is one of the meanings of purge, according to The Oxford Paperback Dictionary, 1988 Edition.

Why am I using a 1988 edition of a dictionary, you ask? Because I hoard books, never throw anything out, and have a sentimental attachment to this particular copy. I bought this dictionary for my son, and it didn’t move out of the house when he did.

There are certain times of the year that lean toward purging activities. I think of the fall as a time of new beginning. The summer is over, school starts once again, along with all the activities that have been on hold for the previous two months.

Remember the movie ‘You’ve Got Mail’?” There’s a scene where the character, played by Tom Hanks, goes on about autumn, buying school supplies, new pencils or something.

I always liked that part, as I feel the same about the fall season. I like getting back into the normal routine, I like the change of season, coloured leaves and layered clothing. And I like to organize my place with a mini purge.

I put away the summer clothes, get rid any accumulated junk, and prepare to be busy. All the clubs start meeting regularly, there are courses and events to attend, and life begins anew.

I do another mini purge after the Christmas holiday. It seems to fit in with the packing away of Christmas decorations, finding a spot for gifts received, and like the fall, settling back into preholiday routines.

But now it’s spring, time for the big purge. Spring Cleaning!

I love you, Mom, but you would
be the first to admit you weren’t
much of a housekeeper.

My mother was an artist,

and I learned from the best,
how not to clean.

My childhood was spent in the city, but when I married and moved to a small town I learned what spring cleaning was all about.

Man, these country women can clean.

I’ll admit, at my age, I’ve reverted to my old ways. I even have fridge magnets to support my position.

Everyone should have a fridge magnet to support their life views.

Yet my faith in my magnets is being sorely tested. I have too many unfinished projects, too many craft supplies, and too much, dare I say it, paper.

 

Clutter n 1. things lying about untidily, 2. a crowded untidy state.

Clutter is a state if mind. All the things we do not use, or do not wear…but keep, in case they might come in handy one day, constitutes clutter.

You know the stuff…inherited objects or gifts you feel guilty about parting with, useless kitchen gadgets, clothes we might ‘one day’ wear again, and books.

According to Feng Shui, clutter represents stagnant energy. I have to admit this is true as I look about my place. I see three out of five blown light bulbs in the bathroom, scum marks on the tub, and dirty dishes on the counter.

It would only require a few minutes of my time to attend to any of these chores, yet I’ve let them sit. And I want to start spring cleaning?

The burden of all this ‘stuff’ is wearing me down, but I will get the job done this time.

I have purpose.

Purpose n objective; intention; aim; function; 

                 resolution; determination.

I need to start with something small, like a drawer or kitchen cupboard. And here’s the biggie, I need to complete that task before moving on.

One day at a time.

Hey, I think I have a fridge magnet that says that. 

Oreo Cookies

O   Oreo Cookies

There’s a knack to eating an Oreo, milk’s favourite cookie.

Hold the cookie, with two hands, top and bottom, fingertips only. Carefully twist the biscuits in opposite directions until you feel them release from the crème filling.

Do not squeeze too tight, you don’t want to have it break into pieces.

Anticipation abounds.

Raise the cookie, covered in white filling to your mouth, and slowly drag your tongue over the surface. Creamy and sweet, lick each biscuit, savouring its unique taste.

Place the two cookie pieces together, dunk in a glass of cold milk and enjoy.

N New Notebooks

I absolutely love paper. Any kind of paper.
Binder paper, art paper and scrapbooking
sheets, I love it all.

  

Journals made from hand made paper



I’ve even wanted to try making my own paper, and

have numerous books on the subject to inspire me.

My interest is two fold. As an artist, I use all kinds of

paper in my mixed media collage, and as a writer, I’m

constantly writing notes for story ideas.

But, there’s nothing I find more appealing than a brand

new notebook.

But, there are notebooks, and there are notebooks. Spiral notebooks, simple bound books,
and then there are the beautiful notebooks, journals I suppose, with lovely covers like
works of art.

There’s just something about opening a notebook, to that first blank page, and relishing
the possibilities. I have a collection of such notebooks. I’m afraid to put pen to paper
and not be worthy.

I know it must seem ridiculous, keeping empty notebooks on my bookcase shelf with
my other books, but they’re just too pretty to stash away in some drawer.

But my collection was getting unruly. Too many people were giving me notebooks
as gifts, and I was having a hard time not adding to my supply when I found one with
an intriguing cover.

The problem is, you want to keep these notebooks you’ve been coveting. So you have
a choice; leave it empty, or fill it completely with something worth keeping.

Too many times I’ve started to use one of my notebooks, and not kept up with what I
started. Once you rip out pages, it’s just not the same.

So, I had to think, what could I use these

notebooks for?

Words, I thought. All those bits of song lyrics, quotes, poems and just interesting words. I’d have my own book of inspiration.

One down, three to go.

Is there anything better than a brand new notebook?









Mixed Media Collage



I grew up surrounded by art, and first learned to paint hanging around my mother's home art studio. I gave it up when I got married and turned to crafts. It seemed easier, with a full time job, a husband and two kids.

To make a long story short, life happened, and things changed. I returned to painting, finding inspiration in one of my mother's abstract pieces, done completely with layered images and paper.

And so I discovered collage.

collage n. an artistic composition made by fixing bits of paper, cloth, string, etc. to a surface.

I experimented, using photographic images of cemetery angel statues, along with layers of paper and paint. I began with a base of collage, added different painting mediums, and created works of multiple layers, texture and colour.

After a busy work week, Saturday night was my 'art' time. Usually I selected an angel photo and went to work, with little planning or preparation. I had no great ambition beyond making something pleasing to the eye. It was a hobby, not a vocation.

Until 911. 

I felt compelled to express my feelings and reactions to that horrible event, and did so with art and poetry.

The first 911 painting I did took weeks of planning. I searched for just the right combination of images and paper, and played with various designs and compositions, before adding the first dab of glue or paint.

That painting was a turning point. I was not a hobby painter anymore, I was an artist.

No longer could I sit down to paint without some idea of what I hoped to accomplish, what I was trying to convey. 

My work is very abstract, and doesn't appeal to everyone,

and that's okay.

I use images, colours, and sometimes words in my mixed media collage. I collect old books and used magazines, along with whatever paper I might find that looks interesting, or might create some unusual  texture.

Angels are no longer a focus, not since I became fascinated with old buildings left to ruin. I began a series of paintings using photos of some aspect of abandoned buildings, like a window or a door.

I still like to experiment, for, like everything else, there are many new products and techniques available, like gel mediums and gel transfers.

It keeps things interesting, and constantly challenges my creativity.

I have an drafting table in the corner, and on the wall behind it hangs my mother's painting...in memory, and in appreciation for the inspiration.

Thank you, Mom.