Bangle-O-Rama

I think the craze for wrist-to-elbow bangles was restarted by Marina Rios of Fanciful Devices.  She has been making stacks of them and just released a tutorial loaded with hints and inspiration.  She makes wonderful piles of them that look ancient and rustic. Check it out!

Bangle stacks offer a great opportunity to use up the little bits and pieces you have hoarded, and to stretch your imagination with simple techniques such as wrapping or lashing with pretty fabrics or wire.  Think of the acquisitive traveling tribal trader who finds things and cobbles them together, over years of time and grime, and you have the right idea.

This project started with a handful of thrifted bangles, oxidized and then variously wrapped or hitched with sari silk, racked (a nautical knot) with waxed linen, or lashed with wire and beads.

Next, charms were added:  a souvenir scarab, an antique green bead with cap, a frosted jade cross with copper wiring, an ancient spun glass bicone, two-toned bead, and a contemporary sugar-glass bead.

Also, since we associate coins with that gypsy look, a fine old Chinese coin and a coin charm from tribal Afghani jewelry.  And an altered hamsa charm.  And hand-stitched 20s era seed beads.

Flowers for Diego

My cousin Bob lives in the Bay Area and he does love flowers.  He has sent me some lovely pics of floral arrangements from the Bouquets to Art Exhibit and the deYoung Museum in Golden Gate Park, which I would like to share.  

Bouquets at the deYoung's Exhibition

This show is "the glorious annual floral exhibition and fundraiser" in which floral designers create tributes to the museum's collection and display them as compliments to the museum's fine collection.  My favorite is the tribute to Diego Rivera's works that calls to mind his paintings of flower markets, and thus expand the viewer's horizon, referring to other well known works of this monumental Mexican genius.

Isn't it a very beautiful and subtle tribute?  The shape and color of the arrangements evoke so much more than is actually in the room.  Definitely glorious!

Another work by Diego Rivera

Right Down to the Shine

The Nose detects a few parts per million of butter, pancake and maple syrup.  This must be eradicated and the fine hotel ironstone platter must be restored to its original shine.

I will perform this invaluable service.

All done!

Shiny plates, it's what I do.

The Great Northwet

It's true what they say about Seattle -- days and days of rain.  Partly sunny is not what you hear in the forecast; you hear partly rainy with showers.  Or 50 percent chance of rain, which means that it is 100% over half the area, or worse, if you live in the convergence zone which is right over my roof, everything brewing happens in your yard.









At this time of year, we dream of the desert or high-tailing it over to Hawaii.  My friend Deb did that, but it was too shocking to come back home -- nothing had changed here.  Spring comes slowly, almost painfully; you have to tune your senses to very subtle changes!  Still the soft, middle gray tones make the greens stand out brightly and the rains ensure that there's plenty of green everywhere.  Moss, and algae, you know!

Oh, and we have snow showers at 500 feet of elevation forecast for the next 24 hours, as the temperatures drop and another sort precipitation  arrives.  You see, we have more than one kind of rain,  we have "snain" or mixed snow and rain, or partly snowy.  I am not complaining about the weather, oh no.  I'll just break out my handy light box and dream of tropical shores.  And guess what?  Some of these rainy weather systems are called "The Pineapple Express."  Oh irony, oh iron gray skies.

Late Stage Found Object Love Disorder

I love the grunge on old things, the film of dust on a mirror, the crust of rusty oxidation where the paint has chipped away from painted tin, the random, uncontrived marks of time that has passed over things that have survived its ravages.

I love things that are not easily identifiable, that provoke deep curiosity, that force us to notice them in the abstract, without context.  They write their own poetry in the imagination.

So here's a couple of shots of the most recent things I have acquired, the ones I turn around in my mind's eye as I drift off to sleep, hoping to find what they must be when they reincarnate as art.



A loop of worn ornamental cord and River Thames
pottery shards  from Fagin's Daughter, in Australia;

Animal chewed walnut husks and fossil oyster shells,  from Treasurehider, found kayaking in Chesapeake bay;

Hand carved African Mokolwane Palm Nut beads from Isle Brevelle Botanica and the veve included in packaging;

A crusty, chipped, broken folding ruler from I-can't-remember-where.

Rustic clay beads of unknown origin from BJ Supplies.

All found poking around on Etsy; check the links!

What? No Woolies? A Guinea Pig Will Do

I was worried when I got Abbie that she would show a prey drive toward my beloved guinea pigs.

But I noticed that the piggies had become more outgoing and less fearful when I approached their corral.  I thought it could be something to do with Abbie, but still I was uncertain.  The day came for the ultimate test --

But Abbie is a good stock dog -- first introduction, Abbie looks away, politely, to show she has no hostile intentions.

Then she and Sparrow settle down for a harmonious encounter -- they may be discussing how much they both like carrots.

Little bits of harmony in our world are so precious.  Let's celebrate them!

Bottle Baby Goes Home!

 I am happy to send one of my doll assemblage works to a new home.

The cranky baby is detachable, with a wool jersey body and hand sculpted original head, hands and feet.  His dismal baptismal dress is a ragged antique lace hankie.

The lining of the shadow box is the ghost of a silk ball gown, with a “halo” of antique child’s tart pan and tatted doily.  The ribbon and details along sides and bottom were salvaged from a tintype case.

The box is, I think, a school project, made from fragrant cedar, gessoed and faux gilded.  I found it on one of my hunting and gathering forays at St. Vinnie’s.

I was inspired by memories of mothers in my childhood neighborhood chatting over morning coffee comparing their baby-raising techniques – “he’s a bottle baby,” meant he was either weaned from the breast or raised on infant formula from birth.  If he was a bottle baby, I could make a couple of quarters minding him while his momma got some R&R.  It didn’t mean he wasn’t fussy – we lived in Atlanta, and the summers were hot enough to make a baby sweat, and they did get fussy, what with those little wrinkles of sweat  around their pudgy necks where the red clay dust would get stuck and make smudgy rings.

This piece was in the ”Show and Tell” feature of Art Doll Quarterly last year, and is one of my first miniature baby dolls.  It was a lot of fun reproducing the traditional style of antique cloth body babies and adding my own two cents’ worth.

Ahh, memories!

And now, the po’ cranky lil’ thang goes home to Gail’s house, in Pennsylvania, and I am grateful to have shared a memory that has been persistent, for some mysterious reason.  I can still see those smudgy, sweaty red clay rings -- maybe they were itchy!