Getting messy with charcoal in my drawing class at the Durham Arts Council. |
I've written before about those words describing my approach to my art and creativity. I work slowly on big projects with enormous themes (hands, say, or saturated colors, or moods and how they look on my face) and I follow ideas down dead ends and lose things along the way.
But it's OK. In fact, it's better than OK. It's what I want.
Runaway 7, by Aubrey Longley-Cook, 2011 |
For example, I have decided to go to Atlanta three times in the month of February to take a workshop with the fabulous textile artist Aubrey Longley-Cook. The workshop is a collaboration involving two things I've never tried: Cross stitch and animation.
You may remember Longley-Cook's fantastic stitched Runaway dog animation, which I wrote a Big Yes! about last year. I'm thrilled to meet him and work with him on his piece for a show this fall. The workshop is through the WonderRoot Artists Helping Artists program.
I would have never let myself do something like this a few years ago. I would have found excuses not to put myself out there and work with with other artists in other cities. But now, no one can stop me from going after opportunities like this. Least of all myself.
Color Words, again! |
Four other projects are in my hoops and sketchbooks right now. I picked up the Color Wheel of Lies, again. It is starting to gel a bit more in my mind.
Mano de Rowie, age 94. |
I'm collecting hands for my Manos project. This project is in the very early stages, but I'm excited with my latest hand... Rowie is a elegant, refined woman in her mid-90s who makes the most beautiful quilts and stitches and knits. I love talking with her about life and I'm honored to have her hand in my collection. She could not be kinder and more supportive of me and my work.
Pissed. |
Cautiously amused. |
A bit more engaged. |
Giddy. |
I want to make some series of stitched images of moods on my face, like the ones above.
Warhol was very kind to me. |
On display. Made with love. |
Finally, I just want to continue to be there for my friends and loved ones. As they have been for me when I needed them.
Largely. Messily.