rich stitch

Popped up to London to see the Quilt Exhibition yesterday at the V&A. Pop was a bit extended as our train got stuck behind a long, long freight train that was going slow.
Lots of people and kidlets around as it is still the Easter holidays. Fortunately as we all marched down the tunnel from the tube station to the sunshine most peeled off like an excited army of chirruping chickens to the Natural History museum. Haven't been since mine were small,and I hear lots has happened, but will wait to re-acquaint with the dinosaurs at a less seasonal time.

The show was excellent, well set out, each quilt in its own space, well lit and impressive. It was all so richly colourful; I felt the museum was granting the makers total respect, equal to all the other pieces in all the other galleries of art and crafts. Stitchers aren't usually allowed the same gravitas as sculpture or ceramics.


Most of the older quilts were embellished with stitching and applique and obviously took ages to complete, revelling in the sheer joy of making, and then making some more.

Quilts by men, often soldiers were very structured - often made from cut up uniforms. Tailors also made historical didactic quilts, carefully planned as masterpieces to show at big exhibitions.

The women's quilts were more domestic, meant for use but from fine silks or velvets and expensive scraps of printed textiles they were still intended to impress.
The contemporary quilts were often much more spare and cerebral, dyed and designed to impress in a different way, often quietly including opinions and attitudes that would not be discussed in general society.

The whole cloth quilts, painstakingly quilted by well trained apprentices were meant to provide an income, so competed to display the skills and twirls of the handstitcher, working in a group, flawlessly completed, the only spontaneity being the chat between the stichers as they worked long hours together.

One quilt that combined the two, individuality and total control was by a colleague, Sara, who uses text. She took some lines from a love letter found after her mother had died and created a poem, each letter trapped in a grid of machine stitching. very much appreciated by the women at the exhibition. The few men tended to sit on the benches and wait.

This quilt explored abortion and was hung at the back of the space allowed, out of reach, as was our Tracey's, bed covers of a young girl reflecting her fears about sex. I so wanted to get nearer to read the text.
This difficulty affected many of the ladies peering at the perfect/imperfect stitching and concepts. The warning siren sounded repeatedly as the line was over stepped by extended pointing and then all went quiet except an embarrassed titter as we were repelled back into our proper place.

This link hopefully will give you an idea of the riches.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/arts_and_culture/8578091.stm

a sunny view

It is a lot colder in my room than it is outside in the sunshine. Fortunately I can resist the siren calls of the RP to go and help with the weeding and instead de-camp to the conservatory [wish there was a less pompous name] and join the amaryllis soaking up the sun.

Stimulated by these clever plants that don't need BetaBlockers to get on with their productions I am stitching on my bit for the next big show.
The theme is Deeply Rooted and I am exploring Original Sin. It was going to be much more political and biting till I saw this medieval painting

The simplicity and gentleness inspired me and so far I have produced this


The embellisher, which I had forsworn, [more like sworn] because I/it kept breaking needles flowed like a dream, when I quit trying to force it thru thick felt, and the rust stained dyed material seems to have set a good gentle colour range. The snake is begging to be a force............no surprise there
The female family tree art farty cushions are progressing, tho I keep losing confidence as they are undoubtedly odd. The goddesses are gossiping away in an increasingly bejewelled fashion so I am happy in my work, except when I fall into a little wimpy heap thinking I should just do a huge quilt which could keep me occupied without so much angst for the rest of my life, or till arthritis takes over.
However going to the V&A tomorrow to see the Quilt exhibition - 18th century to our Tracey, so might return with more respect.

oodles of tomato ketchup

Just returned from watching the above.
Absolutely excellent, but only if you are adolescent or of restricted emotional growth like me.
If you can't laugh when baddies explode in the microwave or worse when 11 year old girl gets punched hard in the face, twice, by another baddie, then don't go.
But if you can enter the comic book laugh and cheer, it is really excellent, I left with a smile on my face, good conquers bad, the underdog fights back and wins [with big guns] - always a good story line.

raise high the roof beam carpenter

Got off my couch [largely metaphorical] to visit a friend's new kitchen last week. They have a thatched pink house deep in the countryside, but decided to make the kitchen more airy fairy.
Builders for months, a side room with a "dirty" sink for her dyes, pluses and minuses.
Now they are open to the roof beams high high above and have underfloor heating to compensate.
Draw back here is that the cat brings in half eaten dead things and leaves them as gifts over night, the heating kicks in and by the time friend groggily descends in the morning the offering is "cooked" onto the tiles.
She likes colour and has had each tall triangle topped wall [whatever it is called] painted the brightest fuchsia pink, if you have migraine you can compare the colour exactly to the pink tablets one takes at the beginning, an exact match.
Unfortunately as I was still taking the tablets I forgot to take any pics.
Likewise next day a visit to a new stitching group, whose member bought a derelict sixteenth century manor house 18 months ago.
I encouraged her to host us so I could have a look, and a real eyeful it is. The builders, still in situ have stripped everything back to the cabalistic wall painting and beams.
The first floor had fallen in so they crafted wide new floor boards and hand waxed them. I cannot begin to describe how gobsmacked I was. Too much to remember to take pics.
Her daughter and pals were up in the attics smoking and playing pool. Made me want to slap them. [i did have a headache]
I have tried googling lady of the manor and the house name but no hits for pics so have to inveigle another visit however unworthy I feel as my eyes are dazzled by so much beauty and money.

Elizabeth, Florence & moi

I have more in common with Elizabeth Barrett Browning than lots of hair it seems.
Florence has things more under control as one would expect, but I follow in their foot steps in "taking to my couch" thus I am not shopping at Sainsbury's.

The Retired Person has bravely taken on the daunting task of equipping us to withstand bank Holidays and Easter celebrations [there is even a FunFair in the next village - unfortunately it is pouring with rain, what a surprise] and I am free to languish and express myself.
This is a good and well tried wheeze which ladies have adopted to avoid getting pulled down into the minutiae of endlessly organising life for everyone else.

RP resolutely "keeps going" whatever his temperature/colly wobbles, it only once took a leg broken in two places for him to finally take to his bed sucking pain killers. Man flu is not in his repertoire.

Of course when one has young people in ones care one has to struggle on, and one is encouraged to do so.............but threse days I find if one decidedly takes to one's couch one is allowed to read, stitch and watch TV undisturbed. One can even complain that one is being left alone with one's pain too long and acquire company, till a nice little nap achieves peace once more.
I did have to suffer for my art however. the post virus migraine was so long and extended I had to be ferried to docs who prescribed morphine, so that was impressive.
And I shall make the most of it!

sick note

Two poor old girls

It has been a long, hard winter and the blessed anniversary of the long awaited, but somehow still surprising, wedding was a good excuse to get away to an hotel and indulge in big beds and cordon bleu.
Unhappily an evil virus came too, which at least meant I got to make full use of room service and the wide screen gog.
Back muscles are still uptight so I am not in the sunniest of moods, fortunately it is still sunny back here at home, the daffodils are waving energetically on the bank and the Mothers Day flowers delivered on March 14th are still in petal.

This is weird, what do they do to flowers these days. I was all for throwing them away before we left, but RP could not bear to see his triumph so disrespected. When we got back, I crawled in to find them looking more robust than I.
The theme of the anniversary this year was "furniture" google claimed, not at all traditional and not one that can be spontaneous really. We could do with a new couch, as it now obviously belongs to Hattie the Dog but that will have to wait as a diversion on a sadder day.

This is not "furniture" just one of the fishermans huts which we witness slowly disintegrating as the years pass, unlike the flowers........
The quay has recently been spraunced up and dredged so the fishermens' boats are in better fettle. Mostly muscles and lobsters are hunted - however tho I have no idea if that is an erroneous assumption, what are those nets for, they look fairly meaningful, especially if you are a fish.

It wasn't the best break we have had really, as the car broke down on the drive up the coast. Some seal, I think the Paul Whitehouse character said, cheerfully, as he loaded us, and car onto his truck.
Whatever had become unsealed meant the clutch didn't, so we were stuck on this roundabout, half way. As confirmed hedonists we decided onwards was the only direction so PW contacted the Rescue and they made us pay another £70+ before he was allowed to ferry us to hotel.
Fortunately the one garage in the village or in a 20 mile radius did repairs and by the time I could maintain the vertical had us ready to roll home.

a bit medical

Have been knocked off my perch by some form of dreaded Virus.
Today I am dressed for the first time, so maybe tomorrow I will be coherent.
During the many sweaty times of temperature peaks Visions occurred of how to move forward with some of the stalled stitching projects so maybe it will have been worth it, if I can just remember what they were and recover the euphoria of the experience...........

Things seen in trees

The pungent piles of manure [horse and possibly pig] had been distributed over the fields by the muck spreader just before we promenaded by with Hattie the dog. She was delirious with the richness and variety of aroma, we were less impressed.
For a moment there tho we thought that the birds had started nesting. I have clocked the odd blackbird pecking up wisps of dried grass instead of seeds from the feeder lately. However on closer sniff it became obvious that the muck spreader had been flinging its beneficence at the bushes too.
Further along gleamed the evidence of a broken windscreen
Rather attractive


as opposed to this weird conglomeration
which seems to be the fused remains of a pheasant and a rabbit, the back story might make a rather darker chapter then Alice would wish to see.
The final contribution is this rather substantial rock, did it do in the windscreen or the wild life.

I have just finished reading several crime stories on the trot, so my appetite for death and destruction is probably over stimulated. Cormac mcCarthy's No country for old men was excellent, but hardly a barrel of laughs, I daren't even start The Road. Arnaldur Indridason's Voices was engrossing also. I learnt Icelanders eat strange things for Xmas dinner - boiled smoked lamb.....
Now I am reading MRHall The Disappeared, it's that terrorist theme again, even crime writers are in the zeitgiest, or do they just take plots from the news reports does death and destruction follow fashions, am I Carrie Bradshaw....... I note from the Sundays that Jo Nesbo. Sara Paretsky, and Ann Cleve all have new murderers to pursue, I shall have to take up Austin again for some respite.

fantasy figures

Working on the Gossiping Goddesses hardly seems like work, it is straight forward getting on with it. None, or very little, of the angst trying to get a piece designed for the Deeply Rooted exhibition. In fact the only angst is that it is so relaxed that it must be worthless and I am just making exotic Barbies.........
but I am enjoying them, except when I have to be tidy in my stitching.
I have been very careless as to size, but fortunately there are two short arses and two Amazons, so they can chat in pairs. Venus is to have a shell to surf in on and some seaweed as decoration to embellish her nakedness.

Went to see Alice in Underland in 3D last week, daughter and loud friend adored the Cheshire cat, whom I thought was very ordinary so I guess it is always in the imagination of the beholder.
We all lusted over Mr Depp so at least we could agree on something.

scarf

As requested - one curly scarf.
I got Repetitive Strain whatsit in my upper right arm because I was so determined to finish it in 2 evenings.
But it was thick wool and a big fat crochet hook so it grew quickly. This was 4 rows I think,- a one chain row to start. Then 2 or was it 3 rows of doubles and then a final flourish of a row of trebles.

PS I have just checked back in the blog and the first daff was out on 19th February last year. Same daff this year is just about to unfurl - they are all still stubby and mostly not even in bud yet. Obviously they needed scarves some time back

food for thought

It has been a sunny few days, but the wind is still blowing from the NE, so even the horses have balaclavas. Wish I had one.
I crocheted one of those curly scarves where you increase the stitches each row so it twists round and round, so it is thick in velour wool, but there is still my face hanging out getting cold.

Only Hatty the dog and the birds cannot appreciate the drawbacks of having to walk the fields and rivers when the wind is blowing straight off the Urals.
RP has decided to expand his repertoire of warm and nourishing meals so being a man he had to go out and buy new expensive tools.
This was an Hungarian recipe of pork and rice, which was quite nice, but until it is perfected I suggest tumeric will do rather than saffron.............but maybe I should just shut up and be grateful

nests

Smashing sunny day to take Noisy Friend and the 2 dogs for a walk. It is still cold at night, so good excuse for coal fire remains, but we haven't had the radiators on today, so it must be getting warmer.
Neighbours donated their coal, as they have gone over to a woodburning stove for welcoming glow, so RP had to ripple his muscles and wheel barrow it over, which satisfied him mightily.
It is those funny bricklet things looking like little cakes of coal dust that burn down to very soft ash. No feeling of ancient wood at all.

We all went to visit the BirdTable Man and Woman. Their cottage is tiny and today rather brisk as they had not yet lit their roaring fire.
BTM was mucking out his outhouses and BTW was trying to fork up the creeping buttercup.

He makes his birdtables in this shed, the cottage is too small for an extra chip of wood. He says that usually he will work a complete week on each table, and enjoys designing new shapes.
We suggested that Noisy Friend should ask for a Big Ben table as her father was once an MP,the Foreign Secretary no less, it seemed too much to request the Houses of Parliament.

This is their little sunny arbour including the oven that was once in the cottage. There was talk of a BBQ later in the year which might be fun.

The empty phone box just across the lane probably explains why Mr and Mrs BirdTable have finally got a phone at the cottage.
The sun lit up the damp little church too.

be prepared

Change of routine today as I went with some of the sewing ladies, to the funeral of the ma of another.
The ma was 90, so not that sad an occasion, as we all have to go sometime, and she had managed to put it off for quite a long time. I would guess tho that it didn't seem that long to her when she looked back however.

Attractive old church, high and light inside - did think about taking a couple of pics but desisted.
Very high Anglican, the vicar would probably have thrown the incense at me, or drownded me in the holy water he was splashing on the coffin.
One of my colleagues is Lutheran and was quite agog at the goings on. This was her 5th funeral in five weeks however so she was hardened to the task by now.
The vicar was a sprightly old bloke with the traditional twinkle in his eye, even as he intoned the rituals he did refer to God as "him, her or whatever you will".
Us heathen were welcomed too, which instantly reduced me to snuffles at the generosity of inclusion.

One of the readings was from Paul to the Corinthians? - the one about the "greatest of these is love" which can also make one weep if one doesn't watch out. The hymns were robust and well known so enjoyable to sing.
The eulogy was less generous. The oldest daughter was still rather annoyed with her mother, feeling her ma had not been loving to her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. So thus she wrote, saying she might have been praised to her mothers friends but never to her face
So NB to remember to tell ones off spring how much one loves them, often, or one will get a dusty send off.

I wore the black silk hat I made years ago for just such an occasion, and added peacock feathers, even tho they may be unlucky [evil eye], I felt a funeral was an appropriate luckless situation
.

cold comfort

Short feature film starring Glorious Grandson, Son, Son's Girlfriend, Daughter and Snow [and their best friend television].

I had an irate friend P on the phone this week as she had been inches deep in snow and unable to travel to the Big City and all we had here 15 miles away was rain.

I would have preferred the snow really as all we did was trundle into town, which at the moment is just about resisting the one in five shops will be shut syndrome [as in run out of money rather than early closing]
I bought me a heavy weather jacket, given that next year most of the shops will have disintegrated and there will be no petrol to reach them anyway - or something.

We have always regarded ourselves as pretty much the Golden Generation [this girl does like her Gs] as we have had the benefit of the NHS, Free Education, House prices going up and down at almost the right time, and Lord love a Duck we have even got a Pension.

We also expect to expire before the worst of the global warming takes effect.
However the next election [May i suppose]. will herald terrible cuts in public services and we will no longer be able to look forward to meals on wheels, continuing free bus travel, extra heating allowance, cheapo train tickets.

It will all be snatched back and we will have to live on memories.

bird man

Went to visit the birdtable man today, as a couple of friends Need to own one of his one offs.
He lives with his wife and dog in a tiny cottage, we found it by knowing the right area then looking for a garden with one of his tables on show.

He works in his shed down the garden, his wife does patchwork and knits.

They have just had the phone put on so people can phone them, so I can now arrange to take friends down there.
It was lovely to talk with people who also have this insane need to "make" things continuously.

long February weekend

Yesterdays walk in the sunshine, glory be praised, was in wellies thru icey mud.
The gorse is bravely in flower once more and lunatics were sailing, have you ever been on a yacht - it is freezing at the best of times.

Went to a Textile show on Friday, the Three Disgraces went too as a homing beacon on our Forum table to all stitchers with a rebellious frame of mind. Seemed to work, but maybe I wasn't there to witness the more critical responses to work that was so merrily bodged.
Not merry today, rain is p*ssing down, sky is overcast [as it would be to maintain a logical world view] and I have a headache.

Can't remember what this intense line of concentration was viewing, obviously some fascinating technique, most of the stall holders seemed to have sprouted eccentric headgear this year.
Re-upholstery seems to be a good practical craft to learn, also good for the hips it seemed as the demonstrators had the tightest leanest jeans on show.