Flourish in Tacoma

Carol's shop around the corner in the Proctor District of Tacoma is a delightful little bandbox lined in French provincial printed fabric, with a fine array of artisan jewelry pinned to the walls.  Stepping through her door is like opening a gift.  And, because Carol herself is a fine designer, and because she represents other fine designers, I was absolutely delighted when she consigned some of my work, too.  Lucky me!

When you happen to be in Tacoma, look for this special place on the ridge above Old Towne, at the intersection of Proctor and North 27th Street, at 1901 North 27th.  It's near some interesting historical buildings, including a firehouse from the days of horse-drawn fire wagons.  On weekends, there's a farmers' market on 27th and it is roped off, but that would make a nice shopping situation; you could drop in to Flourish while you're checking the local produce.

Okay, Time to Put Up the Dollies

Bottle Caps of Ancient Times, Unlikely Jewels -- I have been carefully searching the parking lots where the climbers return from their victories and celebrate (Snow Creek Parking Lot is especially fertile) for smooshed and finely weathered bottle caps. Not sure why, but I love them.  For one thing they are a challenge -- no two alike, unpredictable symmetries, gunk, rust and dents, and remnants of logos. 

What I like most to do with these treasures is to do a multi-layered resin inlay using bits of this and that, glass beads, rhinestones, shell, old-old faces from 19th C. encyclopedias, text, paint, crackling schmootz, embossing powders, all to create a jewel from the object the rest of you would think quite humble, but which I consider noble.  Just imagine if you lived in the bronze age and found one of these babies stuck in the dirt.  You would really be ahead of the curve with something more valuable than Scythian gold.  That was then.  Now, you will be behind the curve, as it were! 

Finished Frida

At last, Frida has been dressed and is ready to debut on Etsy. 

I settled on a rough weave, slubby cotton blue plaid that has a Guatemalan feel for her skirt.  And of course, her tap pants are edged with crocheted lace and embroidered with her monogram in that color of magenta pink she liked for her lips.  The skirt has a hand crocheted lace ruffle salvaged from a pillowcase.  I finished off her huipil with a geometric pattern that I feel is sympathetic, if not authentic. 

This has been quite a little journey to her world, after two biographies, Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo, by Hayden Herrera, and Frida Kahlo, an Open Life, by Raquel Tibol, and  the delightful Self Portrait in a Velvet Dress, Frida's Wardrobe.   I believe I may have captured her likeness and something of her presence much more than before; this one is my third Frida doll, and by far my favorite.  She expresses my sense of gratitude to this great woman and her allegria in the face of immense suffering; I found myself hugging her and expressing a wish to soften her losses.

I have turned her head to a 3/4 view as she poses in her self portraits, making for a rather challenging silhouette in such a doll, but I like that little bit of provocation.  She measures 31-1/2 inches, head to toe.

My next read is Dreaming With His Eyes Open, a Life of Diego Rivera, which, from the little peek I have had so far, will round out my view of both Frida and her Dieguito, two magnificent revolutionary artists.  Who knows, I may even be moved to make a Diego bed doll.  Eventually.  I am already thinking of the next Frida.

 

Frida and Her Huipil

The work on Frida progresses -- I have chosen an exquisite cross-stitched panel of unknown folk origins.  It is most likely Central Asian.  The iconography features concatenated diamonds with rows of swastikas.  Now a word on that symbol -- the name comes from the Sanskrit and it means "auspicious symbol."  It has different connotations depending on whether the running cross runs clockwise or counterclockwise.  Because positive and negative directions run along those registers, I believe this piece speaks of the wholeness of creation.  Never mind the fascist co-opt of that symbol.  Frida despised the fascists with all her considerable passions.  The swastika seems to cross-culturally universal, and it has showed up in diverse places from Buddhist to South American cultures.  The panel may even be Hmong (Miao) of southern China.  But my goal was to evoke Frida's taste for the rich, complex and finely crafted, so while it doesn't fit into the panoply of Mexican regional tradition, it feels right to me.  Her earring is a milagro of a smiling sun, which I think works, because the swastika is also believed to be a symbol of the sun, as well as of an active, creative life.  Next step, draft the pattern for her undergarments -- in all the resources I have seen, nowhere does it mention Frida's underwear, except the tortuous corsets that braced her poor spine.  I expect she either wore none at all or the very best embroidered, appliqued, monogrammed silk.  I think it'll be a camisole and tap pants with lace inserts, and a monogram, of course.  Frida actually monogrammed her own sheets in a Gothic script with black floss.

Flat Frida, a Work in Progress

About once a year, I like to make a Frida Kahlo doll, based on one of her self portraits.  Usually, it's sometime around Dias.  This year, after reading Hererra's biography and Self Portrait in a Velvet Dress, a book presenting her priceless collection of traditional Mexican dress, I feel I have a very close likeness.  As I embroidered the face, I was thinking, "aye, Frida-linda."  She will be a bed doll (a pro-pros, eh?), based on the pattern used in the 1920s.  I haven't decided yet about her dress, but I expect it will be a huipil and a Tejuana-style skirt with lacy white ruffle in good cotton batiste (if I can find it).  Or silk?  Her skirts were often silk and silk velvet.  Sumptuous!

Traveling Gingerbread

Here's a great recipe with a story.  It was given to me by a friend in 1976, written on the back of a campaign letter for Carter/Mondale.  That gives it some vintage cachet, I'd say.  The first time I baked this was one of those Thanksgivings when we went from house to house to see everyone.  That's when it earned its name; a good friend liked it so much, he humbly asked, "is this traveling gingerbread?"  So here it is,

Traveling Gingerbread

Serves 12 - 35 minutes - 350 degrees - 9x12 pan
1/2 c. sugar                      1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 c. butter                     1 tsp. ginger
1 c. dark molasses            1/2 tsp. cloves
2-1/2 c. sifted flour           1/2 tsp. salt
1-1/2 tsp. soda                 1 c. hot water
1 egg, beaten

Cream sugar & butter.  Add beaten egg and molasses (try substituting real maple syrup sometime, yummy yum-yum, but adjust moisture since the syrup is thinner).  Add dry ingredients sifted together.  Add hot water and beat until smooth.  The batter should be very soft.  Pour the batter into a greased and floured pan and bake 35 minutes at 350 degrees.  Cool, cut in squares and top with  whipped cream or frosting.  I like lemon sauce best -- a simple thing of fresh lemon, corn starch and sugar.

Plant Senescence (Autumn Colors)

We think they are turning colors, but what is really happening is that the chlorophyll that makes them green begins to recede, whilst the leaf base develops a "cork layer" that closes its venous system and gradually disconnects it from the tree.  The color you see is the tree's natural leaf color, minus the chlorophyll that masks it during the growing season and helps to nourish the tree.  The saturated colors create a bittersweet mood for me, a confusion of excitement, anticipation and nostalgia.  They are so bright on a cloudy day next to gray Puget Sound that they enter your eyes like sunshine, and scatter light in dreary places.