Fabric Piles, Painting Piles & Edges

Even though I seem to be getting some things done, and even though my dear partner has come back (at least for the nonce) to the blog, I am still running in circles around the piles — great lumps of Things-To-Be-Done.

The problem is that the various projects I have begun are daunting in the amount of time they are taking to be completed. So the circles don’t feel like they are getting smaller or fewer. I just keep going from one to the next back to the first around to the third and then on to the fifth.

I had decided to take on the Silly Project, which I am struggling with in a definitely non-silly way. And muttering over, too. Terry’s blog has several entries about her wonderful silly entries.  She seems to have an ability to tackle the project which I lack.  As I said, muttering. Being silly is a serious business, but one which I am not quite able to manage. I need a tutor.

So here’s some of what’s in the center of various circles (think ven diagrams) staring at me as I zoom (or meander) past:

The Petrified Forest Paintings, which were the cause of having to paint the wall of the studio (a project which also took on its own life), need to have their edges painted. These aren’t wide edges — the masonite boards from Ampersand are 1/8 inch wide, very very nice for plein air work and fitting into the Honda for our travels. But they get muckled up from the paint on front and need to be made to carry the painting color, however, slightly, over the side.

All four sides of each painting has to be painted, using whatever color is on the surface. And the paintings have to be checked for overruns of current paint as well as needed tweaks that might show up. It’s a time-consuming process and, while necessary, not necessarily rewarding. But I will be glad they are done when Neighbor Jim comes around to put on the hanging devices — that is, if they get done.

Then there is the painting or two that I decide has to be seriously worked further (this is a frequent occurrence as I do the edges). I compared version 1 and version 2 of the Blue Mesa Hoodoo painting, saw what the grouping was that it will be part of, and had to work it further. So here, for your edification is Version 3.

Blue Mesa Hoodoo, 16 x 12″, oil on masonite, 2010

I just realized that saying 2010 in the cut-line  could be misleading since it was finished in 2011. But I’m sticking with 2010 as I feel its basics were accomplished at PEFO in October, 2010. My story — I’m sticking to it.

Of course, those are just the obvious studio piles, piles of paintings which, when one dives into them, turn into more complex piles. In the textile studio there are other piles:

These piles are the continuing mess created by a May 1 deadline for a textile wall hanging exhibit, the product of which will undoubtedly show up here one of these days. It’s coming along, slowly, and I’m sort of OK with how its coming along. The piles, however, have to be contained so they don’t interfere with our nightly movie watching. The HD big screen TV has now taken on its own space in my life, and I no longer can work until midnight. I have to stop for the movie at 8 or disappoint Jer, who will then not ever post to the blog again.  So one pile is under the table, another is on the floor beside the sewing machine, and the tools, above, are on the top of the table. But they can be seen from where I sit at my computer and every time I look at them, they whine. Tsk, tsk.

And so it goes. I’m not mentioning the website updates, nor my attempts to get the WordPress dot-com Residency Blog to be a part of my website as a WordPress dot.org. I am reversing the order of the residency posts, turning them into pages, and transferring them to my website. The process turns my mind into mush, particularly as the dot-org options are different from the dot-com options. That is another project that keeps taking on larger and larger dimensions, “widening” as it were, “the gyre” — the center feels very tenuous in its hold.

And so goes January, in its usual uncoördinated fashion. Maybe February, with its tidy 28 days, will shape up or dwindle down. –June

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7 Responses to Fabric Piles, Painting Piles & Edges

  1. Tani says:

    I’m on Jer’s side on this one . . . you might find some artistic inspiration in a good movie! The combination of Netflix and a new tv is pretty alluring . . .

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  2. June says:

    Jay, of course it’s the Gomer Pyle character — we try to keep Portland weird.

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  3. Jay says:

    June:

    Would that be Jim Neighbor, the Gomer Pyle singer person? And he’s going to drop by? Please tell him that I always enjoyed that thing he did – maybe still does. Thanks.

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  4. June says:

    Nikki, Nikkie — so glad to hear from you. Your mom told us about a few of your adventures — you sound like you are involved in good work and a good life. I’m glad you re-connected with us. If you ever get through the Pacific NW, stop and say hi. We’ve always got an empty bed.

    Maybe someday we’ll get together in real life, but in the meantime, keep in touch.

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  5. June says:

    Kathy,

    I thought you just did a major job on your studio. But, oh, that’s right — a clean studio demands new work get started.

    I too work in piles — if it’s filed or stored, it’s either done or abandoned. So piles are my organizing principle. That requires a lot of flat space, of course, and eventually one either has to finish, abandon, or discard. In February — there’s an idea. Or rather, “next month.”

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  6. Kathy Hodge says:

    Boy I sure know what you mean about the piles. Everywhere my eye falls there is something to be done. My problem is I keep adding piles! I’m going to have to get serious about discarding and prioritizing, and you’re right, February is a good time to do it! Now…where’s that pile with my AIR applications….

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  7. Nikk White Vezendii says:

    Aloha June and Jerry, Mom sent me this. Mmm paintings of the arizona forest, memories of family road trips, and enjoying seeing your work. Well loved azaleas show up beautifully. Azaleas grow here as well though they do better in the mountains. Ano ai no me ke aloha from Kauai, Nikki

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