I pawned Ivy off on Brandon last night, quite late, because I was dying to get into my studio and doink around with an idea that I've been wanting to figure out. Well, two ideas. He's a good sport- had her down snoozing in minutes and I'd been laboring anxiously for over an hour. Sometimes I do not have the magic touch. *Sigh*
One of the idea's is at my husband's urging, well, kind of. He has long been nagging me to play with Django Reinhardt's image in some way-I think he may have been thinking a painting, but my mind meandered to…embroidery! Not just any embroidery, though-freehand machine stitched embroidery! I crack myself up trying to teach myself something new all the time. It's too maddening to work on the same things over and over again, perhaps. I need to play in addition to doing what I do routinely. Keeps the gears freshly turning.
So he made the sketch, after I bombed at it-mine looked like Peter Lorre's and Poncho Villa's lovechild. I couldn't capture the features that make the grandfather of gypsy jazz so recognizable. Here is what I came up with based on Brandon's sketch:
And a bit closer:
I kind of like the haphazard hair, and I like the way his moustache turned out. I'd love to get my stitches together and turn him into one of these! I'm now planning to stalk Sammi-I think her embroidery people are wowzer.
Then I had to (no choice here) stay up ungodly late and cover up an old onesie that Aunt Jill had given us for Miles when he was a babe.
"Metal Baby" doesn't quite capture Ivy's persona, so I created something that was intricate, yet solid:
A simple log of turquoise thread on flaxy linen. Perhaps it will actually be cool enough to wear long sleeves for a short time!
The weather is cooling down after a heatwave for the past few days that has made me very cranky! Retreating into my sewing machine has been a welcome respite-I'm not ready for hot weather yet! We often say there is no real Spring here in the desert-like valley floor, it just goes from cool to hot, immediately. Unbearable!
My soul yearns to live somewhere cool again, where going outside is a visual feast and pleasure on my skin. Here I race the kids to the car, crank up the freon and curse the searing hot buckles of their carseats. Miles must tire of me saying, "Sweetheart, take a drink of your icewater, your cheeks are really red!" And griping the entire drive to anywhere.
I will take the 74 degree forecast and milk it for all it's worth-even if it means I won't be making anymore stitchery masterpieces for a little while!