Process, Process, Process...

...oh, and learning.  The two most important things in my practice...and possibly, not giving up.  I bought some canvas boards to paint on some time ago, and they've been waiting for me to be brave enough to use one.  Today was the day.  I approached it the same way as I've approached the smaller works, and decided to use a table easel.  I bought one several years ago, when I first got ME, thinking that I'd be unable to stand long enough to paint, so... The jury is out.  I couldn't work on the board vertically, because it hurt my arms to do so.  Fine, I turned the board round.  And then, having applied the paint, I thought....that's awful.  So, given it was lunchtime, I stopped painting and had intended to leave it for a while...like a day or so... well, that didn't happen.  I went back into the studio to have a look at it and thought...it really is awful.  So, rather than binning it, which was tempting, I thought about what it was that was wrong with it.  Reader, I was trying too hard.  Instead of relaxing and letting things happen, I let my head get in the way, constantly thinking, instead of just going with the flow.  Structure wasn't right, either. The result?  Flat painting, no movement, too dark... you get the drift... but at least I knew what to do about it.

I should have taken a photo at that point, but I didn't.... so here's one about half way through redoing the green section.  It's not obvious from this, but I've extended that section significantly, and lightened things up... more interesting brush strokes, giving a bit of movement... sorry, lousy image, light behind the canvas isn't helpful, but it was the only place I could put it. 

 You can see the difference in tone and movement between the area I've worked on and that lower left hand, darker section... not quite chalk and cheese but... And then I worked on that middle section...

I'm still not convinced, but it's an improvement to some extent...the real thing looks better than the image.  And that's as far as I can go, until I can get some more paint: I've run out of the darker blues I want to incorporate in this, so no more for now.  What is particularly interesting, though, is that I'm not particularly enjoying working with acrylics.  When I started painting, some twenty years or so ago, I worked with acrylics, but switched to oils on the suggestion of my painting mentor.   Apparently it has ruined me for acrylics altogether, except for working on fabric, and possibly monoprinting.  Fortunately, I've been given some water based oils to try, so I'll make a couple of smaller pieces and see how I get on with them. 

I don't think this is going to be a piece I hang on my wall...or even keep...but I'm learning a great deal from it.  I suspect I'll paint over it, it's still not working for me.  Pieces like this can be discouraging if you let them.  It helps if you bear in mind that subsequent pieces will be improved by the learning you get from the process.  And at least I can paint over it until I'm happy.

Trusting The Process....

...is all there is, really.  I spent most of the morning avoiding stitching the new piece, and couldn't work out why.  It didn't feel like being lazy...goodness knows, I know how that feels, and this wasn't it.  I had intended to stitch lines down the whole of the piece, representing tears...except... I made three, and then thought...what am I doing? 

For me, it's all about meaning.  Stitch for the sake of it, because I've always done it that way, isn't my thing.  So I took a closer look at what this piece represents...and discovered that actually, it's about holding it together.  The stitch needed to show that...and here's the finished piece.

There are three lines of stitch on the left hand side, and a single line on the right.  The silk carrier rod has been stitched on, and there are a four stitches holding the tiny piece of rust dyed silk at the top.  And that's it. Just enough to hold it together. 

Because that's what's going on in my life, at present.  I know how to live with this illness, but I don't know how to live with it well, with conviction.  My life is roughly the size of a postage stamp, where before it was a huge, bright canvas.  It's difficult to adapt to, because the parameters change from day to day.  So all I can do is hold it all together, and persist.  And try to make something meaningful out of it, for myself and, hopefully, for others.

Facing Up To Things.

Today is likely to be a day of bits and bobs.  Not every day can witness significant process in whatever projects you're engaged in, and I suspect the closest I'll get to progress is finishing the binding on the ME quilt, and even that may not happen, given what else is going on.

As you can see, it's nearly done, and would have been finished yesterday had I not run out of steam. I'm pleased with the fabric I chose for the binding (we discussed it elsewhere); it works well.  The main task for today, though, is this.

Yup, more boxes (there's another two in addition to these).  My original intention was to have a summerhouse, rather like I had the Little Green Shed in Norfolk, albeit on a far smaller scale.  That would let me paint without making a mess in the house.  And here's where the facing up to things bit comes in.  You'll know from posts elsewhere that I tend to paint on a large scale.  Standing up.  Occasionally throwing paint.  And that's not going to happen: I don't have the energy for that kind of thing any more.  And that was a difficult thing to admit...yet another activity cut from my repertoire, and there's a very long list of those already.  This one, though, is particularly difficult; it's very close to my heart.  I used to say that I made textiles because I couldn't paint, and art textiles were the closest I could get to it.  And then, twenty years ago, I discovered I could indeed paint, so continued with both activities, in parallel.

The reality of ME, though, is that you can only do so much.  Cutting lino blocks, and having to admit to myself how little I can actually do, forced me to look at painting.  It's physically demanding, much more so than the kind of textile work I do.  I have the nasty feeling that wet felt making will have to go, too, unless I can find a willing slave to do the hard work.  Yes, I can use the embellisher (peeking out from behind those boxes).  I can even do wet felt in the washing machine, I suspect.  But it's not the same, and some half measures just aren't worth doing.  And I do have a good deal of fleece...sigh.

I do have a compromise for painting, though.  I'm going to do more mono printing, that most painterly of printing disciplines. I can do it sitting down, and I'm happy to print on a small scale, where painting on a small scale just doesn't feel doable or right; it doesn't fit the things I want to express.  Of course,  I may try developing the mono printing, and find it doesn't work for me either, in which case, I have a lot of paint to get rid of.

Dyeing, on anything other than a small scale, is also likely to go.  I'm not sure about that one, to be honest.  It makes sense to stop dyeing cloth altogether; just setting up to dye is tiring, much less moving things around.  I could dye thread (yes, I know, I've said I would never dye thread, too fiddly etc...), and that's something I really need to think about.  I seem to spend quite a bit of time searching for thread in particular colours, and not finding it, so it would be a useful thing to do. 

Will anything else have to go?  I'm not sure.  If I can sit to do it, and do it in short bursts, it seems to be okay.  Cutting fabric is difficult, because you really do need to stand to do it (trust me, I've tried).  Hopefully, though,  I'm now at the limit.  And there are quite a few things that I believe I can do, without aggravating the ME too much.  Which is just as well, really; every time I abandon another discipline, it feels like I'm cutting out a piece of myself.  ME might easily be described as death by a thousand cuts... but I'm trying not to come over as feeling sorry for myself.  Okay, maybe just a bit.  I grieve my life, and that's unavoidable, it would seem.  Eventually, there will be art about it; right now, it's too much to think about, too painful, too raw. 

I'm a naturally positive person, but I'm clearly not managing it today.  Normal service will be resumed, etc.

Changing My Mind, or Stitch Changes Everything.

So... remember that red velvet piece?  Yes, this one...

Remember I said that this was it?  Reader, I was wrong.  And why was that?  Well... it was stitch.  Stitch changes everything.  I started to assemble the piece, as you do, with that top left lutradur element.  It said, I want irregular stitches....and that's what it got...

And what's more, I liked it.  Most of the other elements, however, Just Didn't Fit.  Sigh.  So... I came up with this. 

I'm still using some of the elements from the last version, but somewhat adjusted, with that leaf or blade type motif added at the top of the long vertical, one of the shorter verticals removed, and a second, larger blade or leaf on the bottom left.  It now has a completely different feel.  And then I added stitch, which was the point at which I contemplated giving up...

...more random stitch, including a couple of renegade French Knots.  I always struggle with them, and whilst I think they add something, I'm not sure why I bothered, given the fuss and the time it took to do what really ought to be a totally simple stitch.  I'm contemplating some beads in that upper section, but that may continue to be a contemplation...not sure if I know where my beads actually are at present...sigh.

This looks better in real life, I have to say, but I'm still not convinced that it's anything more than a sketch.  Not a bad sketch, you understand; I feel that the tree/spear thing (I'm pretty sure it's a tree, in my head, but there is a definite reference to spears going on in there somewhere) is worth developing further.  I've always had a thing about trees...but that's another conversation entirely. 

So...what do you think?  Was it worth the effort? 

Starting Again From Scratch (Almost).

Over the past few years, I've been muttering about ill health and ME, and taking time off (it's summarised here).  It has been an unpleasant journey, mostly, from bedridden to remission, back to bedridden via heart issues, and very little done in the way of art over what I realise is pretty much the last six or seven years.  And I'm still living with it; I need a mobility scooter or wheelchair to go out, as I get unreasonably tired, unreasonably quickly.  There is a blessing of sorts; the depression seems to have taken pity on me, and pretty much disappeared, though struggling with grief has been the theme for the past couple of years.  I tell you this, not to  make you feel sorry for me, but rather to explain where I am at the moment with life, the universe and this illness, which is unlikely to go away. 

That said, my lovely husband and I did 'go away'; we decided to move from our home in Norfolk, back to Scotland, so that we could take a bigger part in family life up here.  It was a very extended move, as we had to wait for a house to be built, and took roughly six months, in all, but we finally moved in early January of this year.  We've slowly (emphasis on the slowly) got the house together, except for the garage, which still has a few boxes in it, and... yes, you've guessed it, my studio...which looks like this...whimper...

It was really difficult to find a house that had a separate dining room to serve as a workroom; I try only to use the stairs once a day, so needed a downstairs room for my stuff.  It looks like I have a lot of stuff...but when I consider how much I used to have, this is an anthill, not a mountain... very little fabric, an incredible amount of thread, much of which is still in boxes in the garage, feathers galore, hat blocks, sketchbooks, paper, paint.... jings.

At the moment, I'm kinda stuck.  Robin has hurt his back, and my son is busy, travelling the country for work, so the shelves that will hold all of this are everywhere but in this room.  I'm hoping to go out tomorrow to get some boxes to hold it in, though, so that at least it will look organised.  What has become apparent, though, is that even this reduced stash is too much for the space available...plus, I don't want to paint in this entirely new, pristine space, for lo! I have a talent for making a mess (surprising, huh?).  So I suspect that a summerhouse for the back garden will be in order, so that I can keep the mess outside.  It'll not be anything like the Little Green Shed (20ft by 10ft just won't go in this garden), but it'll be better than nothing, and given that I've cut down on the range of things I do, that's not unreasonable. 

So...what will I do inside?  Sewing, mainly, some drawing, dyeing if I can manage it, or if I can find someone to help me, felt making, ditto, hat making and some printing, probably just monoprinting, which is my favourite in any case.  Painting goes outside.  That sounds like a lot, but when I compare it against what I used to do, as taken from a bygone list of workshops... it doesn't seem so much.

Altered Art (books, shoes, boxes, bags, quilts ...you name it, we can alter it!)
Artist's Trading Cards
Artists Journals and Sketchbooks
Basic Batik
Basic Book Binding
Basic Hand Stitch (decorative)
Book Covers (stitched)
Cloth Dolls (Keyhole Kate)
Collage
Colouring Paper and Cloth
Fabric Postcards
Fascinator Fun
Feltmaking (wet and dry)
Finding Inspiration
Free Motion Stitching For Texture
Linoprinting
Mixed Media Painting
Monoprinting 
Paper Making
Printing with Natural Materials
Screen Printing
Silk Paper Making.

So... now to edit my supplies accordingly.  A couple of things that won't be going, though, are these:

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This box is full of supplies for hat making, mostly sinamay.  I thoroughly enjoy making hats, though it hasn't been something I've blogged about much at all, as I recall.  It's ideal for someone with ME, I think, because it doesn't often require brute strength; rather, it involves lots of small, fiddly movements, and you can mostly pick it up and put it down again at will, so good for lots of little rests.   At the front of the box, though, there are rolls of canvas and Evolon, the last remnants of the photographs printed on Big Bertha, who has gone to a new home.  I will, however, finish them off as something to remember her by.

And then there's this little lot, emphasis on the little, barely a third of a box.  Bits of hand printed or hand dyed fabric that I couldn't bring myself to throw out or give away, and which will doubtless combine in small pieces of work...but that's another blog post for another day.   Meantime, I'll keep you posted on progress.  

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz...

said the very busy bee...(that's me).  I've been doing a lot, but not sharing it here... partly it's to be seen on the Spunbond Sensations!  blog.  Partly, it's to do with hats...not the making of them, but the work behind the scenes in promoting them...  Add into that, facilitating a creativity support group on Facebook, and starting a new blog on creativity as well... and it's pretty hectic.

Myrtle♥Rose are bringing our exhibition, Blossomings, to @The Gallery, Dereham (in the Memorial Hall) for the first two weeks in October, so if you have always wanted to have full permission to try on a LOT of hats and fascinators, not to mention hairbands and ornaments, that would be a golden opportunity!  As well as the hats, Jill Arnold and I will be showing textile art that relates to the theme in one way or another. Contact me with your email address, if you would like an invite to the Preview (I'll be making cupcakes for that one...).

I also wrote a profile of my work so far, in the new UK Art Quilters blog, .  The blog is an offshoot of a Facebook group.  Writing this was a very interesting exercise, and has made me think a lot about the direction my work has been taking over the last few years.  I'll write more about that another time, I think, when I'm clearer in my own mind about it.  It is a theme I return to constantly on this blog.  It's really important to me to make work with meaning; going back and looking at what I've made, there are several threads that run through my work, all of them meaningful to me, some for obvious reasons, some not so obvious.  I'd like to settle down into some serious work, and focus properly on it, rather than spreading myself thin over a lot of work that isn't quite so meaningful for me.  If you see what I mean...

I made a not so deliberate mistake in the UK Art Quilters Blog; I said I would show an abstract garden quilt...and then forgot all about it... oops!  So here is 'Green Girl In The Garden', one of my favourite Lutradur quilts.  The 'Green Girl' in the title refers to a textile doll I made several years ago... she had a triangular head and odd shaped body... this 'Green Girl' has a triangular body and a round head... but they relate, nonetheless!

Breaking Through...

As you know, or may know, I offer creativity coaching, and work as a volunteer mentor for people starting their own businesses.  I've got a background in personnel and self development, so I hope I'm fairly good at helping people to work out what they want, and how to get it.  That's particularly important in a small business, because you are often your only resource.  One of the most important things a coach can do is get you to listen to yourself, to what you and others are saying (often about you and your business), and work out what that means.  I'm currently working with another textile artist, and we came to a somewhat unexpected conclusion to what her business might actually be.  In reaching that conclusion, I said to her that the word people use about me and my work most often is 'inspirational', but that sadly, they never seemed to actually buy the work. 

On the way home, I was reminded of a Facebook conversation between myself, Annabel Rainbow and Felicity Griffin Clark, about the making and selling of work.  Annabel's comment (and I paraphrase wildly...) was that you either made work to sell or you made the work you needed to make, but the two didn't often go together.  That rang in my mind with the comment about being 'inspirational' (you, of course, may have another word to describe me...feel free to add it to the comments, I'm always interested in feedback).  And suddenly, it all clicked together in my mind.  I may have to make the work...but I don't have to sell it.  I don't have to do anything, really, except what I want to do.  What do I want to do?  I want to inspire people...it's what I seem to do best.  Perhaps the nicest thing anyone said about me  was that when I was on form, everybody around me changed their lives for the better.  That's what I love most.  Much of the art I make, is to illustrate a point for something or someone...like the Spunbond Sensations! blog, which is predominately a teaching blog, which I hope, eventually, will become a community. 

This feels like a huge breakthrough.  My art is important to me, and I won't stop doing it (actually, I don't think I could),  but the pressure of working to sell is something I just don't need.  I would rather enable others to do what I do.  I want to make up some kits using spunbonded fabrics, and others using hand dyes, for people who would like to try working with these things, but aren't quite sure where to start.  Enough 'stuff' for the project, and full instructions.  Hurrah!  I feel so much better about things now... sometimes, all you need is to listen to yourself...and the feedback you're getting.   Phew.

New Beginnings?

I post every year on the first of January; it's the anniversary of my beginning to blog. Usually I wax lyrical about the good things that have happened over the year, and the excitements to follow. This year, though, I don't really know what to say. Last year was possibly the worst we have lived through in 32 years of marriage. I have been ill for most of that time, and pretty much unable to work (and today, a combination of a cold and a grumpy tummy has me beginning the new year with more of the same...). I made things to sell for Christmas...but didn't allow for the demon depression, which bit me with a vengeance at the end of November and hasn't quite let go, yet. Still haven't made the Christmas cards I designed, and as for the decorations... oh well, there's always next year.

Robin is now officially out of work, and actively job hunting across the country, so everything is up in the air (anyone need a good FD?). We hope to be able to stay where we are; we love it dearly, and have made some wonderful friends. I have ideas for new directions, and a development on an existing direction, including learning millinery with my friends Clare and Jill (watch this space, or one very like it, for more detail...). I usually start each new year with a bounce; this year, it's more of a whimper, but I'm holding on in there. If you are in a similar position, know that you are not alone, and it's okay to feel less than positive about the new year. What isn't allowed, though, is to give up. The bad feelings will pass...they always do... opportunities will arise again....they always do... It helps if you can believe in yourself...or at least, in bits of yourself. The new year will doubtless not be perfect; that's fortunate, because neither are we. Just make sure you look after yourself...and I'll do the same, and we'll keep each other company, one day at a time. I feel better already...and it isn't just the cold remedy....

Thank you to everyone who has kept the faith with me and this blog over a truly awful year... I've said it before, but normal service is about to be resumed...like now. I'm planning for this blog to be a record of my rise out of the depths, and into renewed creativity and action. And if I can do it, so can you. I hope you'll keep me company... and I hope I'll help you to move into creativity and action, whether or not you feel you need it!

Sparkly Bits...

are to be found all over my dining room table, and, if I am honest, on the dining room floor, too. I'm taking part in a couple of art/craft events over the next few weeks, and I'm making tiny flower arrangements, just for the fun of it, and to add a little glitz to my stand. The image shows four of them; three are in little metal buckets, complete with handles, whilst the third is a similar structure, but in pink glass. I shall be popping a few onto Etsy, too.

I've pretty much had the week off; my niece has been visiting. We shopped til we dropped (fortunately, nothing broke!), we talked lots and one of us did some computer programming whilst the other made chutney. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to tell me who did what... A week has not been long enough, it never is... but she is in her final year at St Andrews University, and had to go back to continue her studies.

I'm contemplating a change of direction in my work (yes, another one...), and facing a major upheaval in my personal life, so if I have been somewhat elusive this week, that's what it's about. That, and looking after Hopalong... my lovely husband injured his knee last weekend, and is on crutches; back to hospital on Tuesday. Tomorrow, though, I go out with Clare, my passementerie friend, to do some research on a joint venture, of which more another time.

Breaking Out...

of your comfort zone is not an easy thing to do. We don't appreciate just how cocooned we are inside it, until we are forced to challenge ourselves, or create the circumstances for a challenge to come about. That's what happened to me, yesterday. I went for a second look at an exhibition, Salthouse 10 : Landmarks, with my friend Jill Arnold. I thought I knew exactly what I was going to do there; I was going to look at a piece I missed seeing the last time I was there, and I was going to sit with a particular painting that had interested me. As it turned out, I only did one of these things. I did see the piece I missed, properly, an interesting artist's book on a beatiful stand, but on the walk round to the painting, I stopped to take a second look at a mixed media piece, 'Matter Over Mind' by Eric Smee. (Sadly, I don't have an image of it, and I can't find it on the web, so I can't show you what I'm talking about...sorry). On my first visit, I had made the mistake of dismissing it as just another piece of modern mixed media... clever, but not terribly interesting. Oh, boy, was I wrong. Yesterday, I stood and looked closely at the image for about fifteen minutes, and then spent perhaps another half an hour sitting at a distance from it, thinking and writing about it.

In that time, I realised a number of things. Firstly, that Eric was doing in one medium what I do in another; creating layer upon layer of meaning. The artist's statement for the piece reads 'I interview my subjects at length. I try to understand what makes each of them into the person they are today, then re-create an essence of their life slightly offset to preserve their anonimity. I rebuild photographs, drawings and paintings into an outline of what I am trying to say, then add details and variations to show emotional ramifications, often hiding much of the original image, until I feel the viewer will be able to relate to the emotional state of my subject'.

Secondly, that this was the 'way in' to a self portrait for me. I've been tiptoeing round that idea since I turned fifty, and much earlier. I made a self portrait of myself at forty, a watercolour painting, but that didn't seem to be the way to go now... I needed to find a way to structure the many elements that seem to make up me at fifty. Or anyone, at any age, come to think of it. Eric's description of his process has formed the starting point for mine, and I realise that a single image isn't going to do it, for me. I think it's more likely that the self portrait is really a need to explain my life up to now to myself (if nobody else). It's a process that I've already begun to some extent, making books about my childhood, which I tend to refer to as 'the childhood from hell'. That work needs to be continued, with lots of images, and possibly lots of writing to go with them... You can perhaps see that this idea is developing even as I type here; it's very exciting.

Thirdly, the image reminded me very much of a piece I made about ten or so years ago. One of the 'Texture Of Memory' series, it was a large quilt, made of layer upon layer of different fabrics, all of them dark, most of them transparent. Many of the layers could either be removed completely or thrown up and away from the main body of the piece; the idea was that you could 'peel' away layers of memory, to see what was underneath. I've never felt that that particular piece was effective; I think looking at 'Matter Over Mind' has shown me why that is. It was, quite simply, too dark. Matter Over Mind has the kind of feel I wanted for the piece, in part, I think, because there is a strong light area in it. I do have a lot of dark memories, but there are a few light ones in there, too. The piece would have been much stronger if I had allowed some of those to appear.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because I suspect that the things that we dismiss as 'unimportant' or 'not our kind of thing', are in fact gems that we should be contemplating for as long as is necessary. We talk about 'blind prejudice'; certainly, the first time I saw this piece, I was blind to its story, and to its relevance for myself. I don't like the idea of blinding myself to things... so the next time I start to dismiss something out of hand, I think I'll try sitting with it for a while, and see what lessons it has for me. Thanks, Eric. And now, I've got a lot of work to do...

PS You can catch a glimpse of Eric's work here, and an image of another piece, and a little about the artist, here. Go take a look, the work is amazing. See what it shows you...

Sidetracked?

Probably. And at all kinds of different levels. On a personal basis, I have discovered that one of the touchstones of my life was a lie. So a lot of time has been spent thinking about that, redefining the past and myself, to some extent. Wondering what the other lies were, whether anything was as it seemed at the time, or seems like now. Confused.

On a professional basis, too, I'm confused. Having spent a brief spell back in the world of work, there would appear to be no opportunities around for me to rejoin it after being made redundant last year. This is on the surface, no bad thing... but it does mean I'm not actually making very much in the way of money. Nothing new there, really...except that I've had to face the fact that I'm not working very hard at anything at the moment. And I'm not really sure what it is I want. And I seem to think that it's not possible to make a living out of art (which is actually untrue; try reading Dijanne's blog, if you haven't already).

And I've been writing the Brusho book, and checking the proofs for the Evolon book. Writing is a demanding thing; it demands time, commitment and a lot of effort, much of which does involve art, thankfully, but not all of it. Because I publish my own books, I have to talk to customers, whether individuals or businesses, chase money, do the publicity (which I'm really not good at), and all the business related stuff.

Mostly, though, I've been making beads. Not an activity I ever thought I'd take up, but as you've seen from earlier posts, I've been playing with the idea for several weeks now. Fortunately, though, none of these things are the dead ends they might appear. All of them have come together to suggest new ways forward for me, and whilst I am still thinking, I'm working, too. I'm going to start selling materials, as well as my books, I'm working out a new workshop programme, and I'm setting up a website. I'm also working out the fine details of offering a printing service to textile artists with Big Bertha, my large scale professional printer (an Epson).As well as all of that, I'm writing a book with my friend Jill, on landscapes. And the work with the beads is suggesting all sorts of ways to move forward in my textile work, including the 3D work which has evaded me so far.

Not all that bad a sidetrack, really... I don't seem to have made much in the way of decisions, but I'm behaving as if I have, and starting to get things done. Wish me luck.

A Quick Nudge In The Ribs...

...arrived in my mailbox this morning, courtesy of the Universe, or The Explorer's Club, site of motivational writer and speaker (and who knows what else...)Mike Dooley. I like these daily reminders (well, okay, weekday...even the Universe has the weekend off...). For all that they are random, they regularly hit an issue that I need to be encouraged about.

I went for an interview for a full time job on Wednesday, as well as doing some coaching. Yesterday, I did nothing much about anything. I used all kinds of excuses to justify it. I was tired. I had done a lot the day before. I was allowed to look after myself, to rest. I played silly games on the computer, instead of getting on with the things I knew I should have been working on. Today, the message from the Universe was short and sweet (and I quote):

Baby steps spark miracles, marion.

Miracles do not spark baby steps.

Ungawa,
The Universe

Ouch. Today, I'm back to work, and feeling much better about things than I did yesterday. I'm writing leaflets for my coaching services, sending images to someone who asked for them and generally getting active. I'm working for my own, personal miracles. What are you working for today? Or are you having a lazy day, like I had yesterday? We can't work every hour of every day, but we can focus on what we really want, and bring it to fruition. I firmly believe that we get what we focus on...so I'm off to focus on coaching today. I want to help people express themselves creatively. First, though, I have to explain to them what that means...hence the leaflets. And then I'm going to make a coaching blog, so that this blog remains as my creative work blog, and people who want a different kind of encouraging can go to the new blog, instead...or as well. Watch this space for new developments!

The image, by the way, is a collage on board, called 'Falling'.

Ouch!

I've pulled a muscle in my shoulder, I think, probably while turning over in bed... it might stop me sewing, but not painting, I think. Since I've been showing you a lot of paintings, I thought I'd show a textile, just to prove that I do sew occasionally! This is stage four of the red piece of lutradur I started in Lyon, now titled 'Red Flight'. I say stage four advisedly, because I'm not convinced that it's finished. Somehow, it isn't what I intended at all...I got sidetracked into my 'usual' way of working, and an earlier theme, instead of experimenting with the new things that I've been thinking about recently. It's easily enough done...a rut is a rut is a rut, and is always easier than breaking new ground (even if that ground is only new to me). I think some paint is required on this one, or maybe some gutta.

And yes, you're right, I could unpick...only I won't. Partly because I rarely ever do, but mostly because the holes would show on the lutradur, one of the rare downsides of using this lovely cloth. Still, I have another, larger piece to work with, and this time, I won't allow myself to be sidetracked! Though, I admit, it's still possible... I'm finding it difficult to focus on two distinct and different themes, one for painting, one for cloth, but I'm don't really want to give either up; they both seem to be important. Perhaps the trick would be to work on one at a time in both textile and paint, and leave the other one for later... something to think about.