I desire this life in Hawaii.
Home built by Jay Nelson on Kauai, Hawaii.
For more about Jay’s work, check out this short film.
Contributed by Jess Bianchi.
Acrylics on satin. Painting is done. It will have to cure for a week before I can iron and wash it.
Two padded 10” h by 14” wide zippered bags and a 20” by 30” piece of painted satin, a good day’s work.
The Dreamer. Acrylics on dupioni silk, quilted. Clutch with zippered inner silk pocket. Lined in Indonesian batik with tiny sparkles. Finished. Post on etsy. Move on.
Cone Flowers, acrylics on satin, zippered bag, lined in petal pink satin. Finished. List on etsy, move on.
A beautiful essay.
This Quilt Industry
Up for a long post or not; hold your breath I am in for the long haul and telling it as is today.
Been making Quilts for a long time haven’t we? I started with a passion, years ago. Used ordinary fabrics, dreamt of having the real ones whilst we had not many suppliers of Quilt Fabrics in South Africa. Then they came like the gold rush. Heaps of suppliers. We bought from them all to make our Quilts with, applique paper, the tools of the trade, you name it. Costing small fortunes, saving on other household items just so we could make those beautiful Quilts, every piece cut out of imported Quilt fabrics.
Prices escalated. We need to have access to Richy Rich funds if we wish to make a whole Quilt with the real McCoy. The economy is failing and no longer is it possible on a middle class / normal household income to afford quilt fabrics. I do believe even the upper class Quilter is struggling to fill his/her hunger of the perfectly crafted all quilt fabrics Quilt making.
I can’t do it. Even if my dear husband brought home more than the average income, I will not. For the sake of being a true Quilter, how it all started and to attain selfrespect; My first Quilt was the best one ever. I scraped by. I was passionate about the craft. It was pure love and sensible.
Looking around me, scrolling social media, the industry, the notions, the buy me, buy here, come to this event and shop till you drop nonsense. The relentless annoying advertising of a craft originated from the senses of warmth, love, generosity, kindness is unkind actually.
Then there is the competition amongst the lot of the suppliers. They’re in it for the money. Do we have to believe they make their own Quilts. Really? It is marketing in it’s highest ranks. Take note too that when there is an event / Quilt show / workshops the numbers count. The more the merrier.
From previous and more corporate experience (though many moons ago) I know that as the industry grows, it has a hierarchy that grows with it. And they all need to be paid for what they do. In the days we’re in people are expensive. Imagine the fabrics of this society we find ourselves in, the cost of it all.
On the other hand we have the recycling, re-use, downscale, make do and mend culture craze. You can attend seminars on those lately. We all try this too. We’re Quilters after all, menders, family people. Yet for our Quilts we opt for the alternative.
I am stopping it, in my tracks so to speak. My Quilts from hereon will speak volumes for the origin of The Quilt. Described in this quote the way I love everyday life ….
"The quilt, as we know it in America, was originally a strictly utilitarian article, born of the necessity of providing warm covers for beds. Quilts were also used as hangings for doors and windows that were not sealed well enough to keep out the cold. The earliest American quilts, made by English and Dutch settlers, were so intimately connected to everyday life of the early colonists that no record of them exists."
I love black dogs! This sad fact that both black dogs AND black cats are least likely to be adopted from shelters needs to change. So much change, so little time…
Congrats to the Fred Levy and his Black Dogs Project blog. It’s an effort to correct the fact that black dogs are sadly, routinely passed over for adoption. It’s nothing but photos of black dogs against black backgrounds, it’s beautiful, and it’s about to become a book. It’ll be out in fall of 2015, and its pages will be heavy with ink.
If you yourself have a black dog, by the way, Fred still needs models…
Cone Flowers in process. And a few sleeping kitties.
I got it now. This dupioni silk pocket line with silk crepe de Chine only took me an hour and the zipper went in easier this time. Soon this black silk charmeuse that my father brought my mother from Vietnam will be up. Mmmm, it’s hand is incredible!!
Working on zippered pockets for the clutches. I seem to have forgotten how to put in a zipper. Guess I’ll figure it out, hopefully soon.
A quick look at: the ancient Egyptian “Tale of the Doomed Prince.”
Italicized sections in this post are translated portions from the tale itself, here I will be using Lichtheim’s “Ancient Egyptian Literature: The New Kingdom Vol. 2” (University of California Press, 2006). While the end of this tale is missing, most scholars believe the ending to have been a happy one.
Our hero in this text is a prince, whom is being pursed by the fates, and must die. Upon hearing this, his distressed father builds a fortress to protect his son.
Then came the Hathors to determine a fate for him. They said: “He will die through the crocodile, or the snake, or the dog.” […] Then his majesty’s heart became very very sad. His majesty had [a house] of stone built [for him] upon the desert…and the child was not to go outdoors.
Many years later the prince, now an adult, has grown sick of “sitting here," and leaves Egypt on a chariot for Mitanni. The prince of Mitanni has a daughter, whom has been put away in a tower (similar in a way to the rapunzel story popular today). Many wish to marry this daughter, but only one who can jump (fly?) up to her in the tower may do so. The prince lies about who he is, not wanting his competitors to feel threatened by another prince. After sitting back and learning from his competitors, the prince manages to reach the girl.
He leaped, he reached the window of the daughter of the Prince of Nahrin. She kissed him, she embraced him on all his body. One went to inform her father and told him “One man has reached the window of your daughter.” […] Thereupon the Prince of Nahrin became exceedingly angry. He said: “Am I to give my daughter to this fugitive from Egypt? Make him go away!”
Despite her father’s orders, the daughter held the Egyptian prince tight, and threatened to starve herself to death if he was to be parted from her: “I will not live an hour longer than he!" Upon actually meeting the Egyptian prince, the prince of Nahrin has an immediate change of heart, "his dignity impressed the Prince.” The daughter and Egyptian prince ended up getting married.
Now when many days had passed, the youth said to his wife “I am given over to three fates: the crocodile, the snake, the dog.” Then she said to him: “Have the dog that follows you killed.” He said to her: “What foolishness! I will not let my dog be killed, whom I raised when it was a puppy.” So she began to watch her husband very much and did not let him go out alone.
The proceeding portion of the tale tells of these fates finally encountering the prince. The snake is killed, all that remain are the crocodile and the dog:
The youth went out for a pleasure stroll on his estate. [His wife] did not go out [with him], but his dog was following him. Then his dog began to speak [saying: “I am your fate].” Thereupon he ran before it. He reached the lake. He descended into [the water in flight from the] dog. Then the crocodile [seized] him and carried him off to where the demon was. [But he was gone. The] crocodile said to the youth: “I am your fate that has come after you. But [for three months] now I have been fighting with the demon. Now look, I shall release you. If my [enemy returns] to fight [you shall] help me to kill the demon. For you see the ————— the crocodile.” Now when it dawned and the next day had come, [the demon] returned —————.
The rest of the text is unfortunately missing.
Wish we knew the rest of the story!
Acrylics on satin. Not sure if this will be a hand bag or a wall hanging.