King of the Road

I am a member of SAQA-Studio Art Quilters Association. Recently they asked their Texas members to contribute to a traveling trunk show by creating 12"x12" small quilts depicting various impressions of life in Texas. Since I'm not one for sentimentality or cliche (no cowboys or oil derricks) or overly cluttered scenes I came up with a fairly simple image based on my recent observations of Grackles at our pond, combined with living on the Plains, and especially in a time of drought. Here is my step by step process of "King of the Road". I'm not sure if it is done. It may need a few more bits of embroidered dust. Is that a Haboob in the distance?

I had to snip his tail off bcause the artwork can't project beyond the border.....:-(
Then I added both machine and hand stitching.

Some close-ups.

A veil of black net, like the shadow from a cloud. I wanted to break up the space a bit into more shapes.

Time to square off the edges and add a border.

                            Some beads to represent dust and sand. Texture is always a good thing.

And....is it done? I don't know. I need to to snip away the stray threads and mull on it for a day or two.

Neverending Endings

Today I am going to make a complaint. Well, it's a complaint disguised as a movie review. I'll be like those two muppet geezers in the balcony hurling snarkiness from on high.

 I'm talking about movies that don't know how to wrap it up. And that's not counting waiting through ten minutes of closing credits to see some little sight gag or secret set-up for a sequel. And yes, I am sure if I was going to a normal adult, well made movie like Silver Linings Playbook, rather than a giant nerdfest of a summer blockbuster designed for 16 year old boys then I would not even have a complaint at all, but I save my serious viewing for Netflix these days and skip off to the movies to see these films that appeal to my inner child and need a big, fat screen to accomodate all the epicness.
   So, here's the deal with Iron Man 3. It's a good film, better than Iron Man 2, for sure, maybe on par with Iron Man 1, but not as good as The Avengers. That film had wit and humour and loads of character interactions and bondings, even if those aliens destroying New York took their sweet time about it at the end.

On the plus side they all have Robert Downey Jr. in them (although I enjoy a little Don Cheadle in the mix, so thanks for including him in IM3). I would never go see a film like Transformers (although by accident I did), and I might think about the X-Men series (Patrick Stewart and High Jackman, you may just lure me in!), but Iron Man 3 has some major things going for it, not the least of which  is just letting Tony Stark banter, with everything and everyone. More banter please. My favorite, and unexpected, part of Iron Man 3 was when he crashed in Tennessee and made friends with that kid, Harley. Nothing makes me happier than seeing Tony get smartass with a smartass kid. More banter, in flannel and caps. No sentimentality but great bonding. I also enjoy watching him tinker in his workshop with his long suffering robot. And, wow, I did like the clever twist involving the Mandarin. Ben Kingsley is such a sly actor. Plus I loved Tony and Pepper's Malibu home. Too bad about those rocket launchers.

But, of course, I know I'm going to get lots of action and CG and giant things crashing down, but after awhile it does tend to go on. Especially at the extra-gigantic, motherload of all action sequences finales of these kinds of films. A grand finale should be a huge woosh of a roller coaster ride and then it's over, leaving you wanting more but knowing you will throw up if it goes around again. These days every action film has a finale that just does not know when to quit. Literally ad nauseum. It goes on, and on, and on. Did they finally kill the bad guy? Oh psych, just kidding. He takes an awful lot of killing so if you need to go to the bathroom this is a good moment. Remember that giant thing that blew up and crashed into more giant things? Well, there are more giant things to blow up (San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge has been destroyed so many times in movies, not to mention swarmed with angry apes, that I don't know why they don't just paint a giant target on it. And I suspect that Star Trek Into Darkness is about to give it another beating. More about that later). There's a reason I don't see these films in 3-D, otherwise I feel like I'm in an astronaut training course seeing how many G's I can stand before blacking out, or I'm being bombarded with images like some Manchurian Candidate being prepped by the Commies to assassinate a world leader.
So Iron Man 3, after a lot of other action sequences including a clever "monkeys in a barrel" bit finally goes into its 30 minute slam bang finale right around five o'clock when I am already fantasizing about a glass of wine and a cheesy quesadilla with guacamole for supper. Not only that but the theatre smells a bit funny like some kid peed in his pants at the earlier show (which reminds me, parents, don't bring your five year old to this film and then wonder why he's a traumatized bedwetter. What's fun and loud to you is overwhelming for his little brain.)
OK, back to the endless ending. Stuff is falling over, people are blowing up, Tony has been crashed and bashed about so much he should be on life support by now, Pepper is dangling off something for about 10 minutes, then she glows for about another ten minutes, the President is strung up like a metal deer carcass, the bad guys just won't stay dead........yeah, a glass of wine, I'm going to put on some pajamas and check my Facebook page....do I need to pee?...I think I can hold it if this film ever ends.......do I still have a square of Dove dark chocolate at the bottom of my purse?......my thighs are sticking together, time to cross the other leg over.....wait, what just happened, did the bad guy stay dead this time? They all look like they need some first aid and a hot shower. Hmm, everything got quiet. What is this silence? I am confused. Oh, I see, it's the epilogue. I hope it's not like the Lord of the Rings epilogue in Return of the King. That was 45 minutes long. And yes it did take Frodo a long time to get up that mountain and toss that ring.
   And that, in a nutshell, is why most action movies, and this movie review, go on too long. However, I have not yet seen Star Trek Into Darkness, and if that finale involves Benedict Cumberbatch running endlessly around in tight black lycra with floppy hair then I may have to amend my opinion.

Moved by Shakespeare

Here was my task. Interpret this dark poem through dance.

SONNET 147

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Each choreographer for Flatlands Dance Theatre selected one of Shakespeare's sonnets to create a work around. This sonnet, one of the "Dark Lady" sonnets, appealed to my sense of the romantic and dramatic. And yet how to express the poet's obsessive attraction to one he now despises, especially when I had three female dancers to work with. (Later I got our only male dancer to step in and become the poet's eyes) I always love a creative challenge. 

"Past Cure"- choreographed by me. Music by the Kronos Quartet. Voice over of sonnet by Richard Privitt. 
Dancers: Sarah Mondle, Kyla Olson, Emily Winton, and Stephen Anaya.
Rehearsal photos by myself. Performance photos by Andrea Bilkin. The wonderful lighting by Emmett Buhman.
My concept: We only know this lady through the eyes of her beloved. And we assume from the last two stanzas that she is an evil, betraying bitch. But what if she not just that? We are only seeing one point of view at one particular time. So......I let each of my three dancers represent the same woman at three different phases of a relationship.
Infatuation:

Love:

 Betrayal:

Infatuation and love fall away and yet he still cannot free himself from her hold over him:

The Mother Road

It's hard to believe, but for the first time in my life I took a road trip alone. Just myself and the open highway, plus about 4000 big rig trucks give or take a few. I was on my way to a national art quilters conference in Santa Fe and Glenn couldn't get away from classes to come along so he advised me to take the interstate route instead of our usual path through Clovis and Fort Sumner just in case there was a car problem and I needed cell phone coverage and assistance. This meant driving I-27 north to Amarillo and then turning onto I-40 west, the original Route 66, known as the Mother Road, that stretches from Chicago to L.A.

 At first the scenery is just a hum of highway, horizon, and sky, the panhandle in all its minimalism, then right before Tucumcari the earth begins to roll and sway and then chisel itself into beige, scrubbed raw mesas. I love these wild vistas of New Mexico. Not as dramatic as the Rockies, but calmer, a little more mysterious. The ghosts of mingled cultures filling the earth and sky.
 The beauty of traveling alone is that you can stop where you please, and on the Mother Road you head for the truck stops in all their bright lit extravagance. Russell's offered a Fifties vibe, with the restrooms designated for Elvises and Marilyns. Coffee please.

On to Santa Rosa and then up to Clines Corners, another craptacular truck stop. And here I left I-40 and turned up the two lane road to Santa Fe where the familiar 45 minute drive to the mountains seemed to whiz by thanks to my audio book (something about spies).

I checked into Garrett's Desert Inn, conveniently located, as they proudly claim, between the Square and Canyon Road. The vibe there is distinctly vintage motel (little pink bathroom tiles!) but it's cheap and clean and accessible. I then drove up to the Lodge at Santa Fe, up St. Francis St. and on the way to the opera house, to check in at the conference. (I've been here so many times I can pretty much drive like a local.) I knew not a soul there but I have never met a friendlier, more open and relaxed group of people. Everyone was inclusive and willing to share ideas, techniques, tips, venues, and resources. I shared business cards with other artists and attended some helpful sessions on marketing artwork (it's all done online now, so even this blog is considered one of my resources, for all six of you reading it, but supposedly I am supposed to have a link to my Etsy site and my Facebook page. Plus I'm supposed to Twitter and check in on Linkedin, but, whew, I'd never get any art done). I also attended a session on colour theory, and heard life stories of successful members actually making a career out of their work.
Of course the best part of being in Santa Fe was being in Santa Fe. Art, food, scenery, shops, history, atmosphere....what's not to love? Even as it grows and changes (and gets pricier) there is always a familiarity, a reassuring sameness to being back there and finding the same favorite spots.
The first night, since it was my birthday, I sat alone in the bar at the La Fonda Hotel and toasted myself with a Cosmo. That sounds slightly pitiful but I was as happy as I could be in my splendid solitary state.

 I did mingle with the other conference goers in sessions and at the silent auction social/fundraiser but I ate dinner alone the next night at The Pink Adobe, again feeling the romance of being unmoored and unfettered.
On Saturday, my friend Toni, and her husband, Gordon, drove in from Albuquerque and took me to lunch at Tomasita's, joined by the mayor of Santa Fe and his wife, who happen to be their good friends. The mayor is well-liked, and numerous people came by our table to say hello to him. After that we went to the International Folk Art Museum, a charming place to wander through, where they were having a special exhibit of Amish quilts.

With the conference over I drove over to Albuquerque and spent the night at Toni's for a nice evening chat over wine and guacamole, before heading home the next day.
Here are a few images from Santa Fe, the city different: