#crochet365 photo challenge Days 29 and 30

Day - 29 - knit-look - Alternating diamond bracelet, Experiment with Tunisian and enterlac in size 10 crochet thread

Day 30 - noise - huh! Take your pick. The wellspring from which my emotional mallaise flows. Harbinger of chaos.

Thoughts Aren't Deeds

More #crochet365 - 2016 - Day 25 -> Day 28

#crochet365 2016

Day 25 - Yarn in a bag - yarn as a bag

Entrepreneurial Artisty at the Hermitage

The previous 2 posts were quotes from that same podcast I keep talking about:

 SOSstudio.co/Sessions

Specifically Session #54 Music Placement, Crowdfunding and Building Personal Relationships with guest Erick Macek

Whew! Quite the mouthful. Textful? Anywho.

Sometimes it's a little difficult to extrapolate the "musician as business" info into the craft and art world. But I try. Because that is my world...or at least the world I circle while trying to get the nerve to jump in properly.

I love the way music feels. The way it surrounds and fills the body, the mind, the soul.

However, the only music that ever came out of me ended at 17 when the state mandated public school education was completed. So just Jr. High and High school band stuff.

Yeah, I said "Jr High". What do you want,  I'm old. I was educated in the days before middle schools. You know. Back before people thought it was a good idea to mix 6th grade tiny playful children with 8th grade angst driven just-teens.

I digress. (That's something to which you might as well resign yourself to encountering in my blogging.)

Growing up, I had lots of artistic leanings "interests". High school in particular saw participation in Band, One Act Play, Ready Writing (UIL event. Uh. University Interscholastic League, I believe) and playing around in the kitchen at home.

Neither playing music nor acting on a stage made it into my adulthood. Always thought that was because I lack passion. A personal inner failing that interfered with my ability to fully commit to those careers or those kind of people.

Actually, I still believe that being passionless is the root of my checkered history of poorly pursued life pursuits. Only now, I'm beginning to better understand the soil requirements.

Several mini-epiphanies on the subject have happened due to that podcast I mentioned a blitheringly long while ago.

In good ole #54, I realized that I am not only incapable of feeling the passion that drives a creative individual, but I'm also fundamentally incapable of establishing personal relationships.

I'vs always found networking and schmoozing to be repellant. I have no talent for them and I have no tolerance for rejection.

Simply put, I hate seeking out people. But I also desperately crave human contact.

I want to be loved but I don't know how. No, really. I've actually been told in the past that I won't let people love me. I found that very odd, confusing and frustrating.

Human interaction is a lot of work for me. I feel obligated to be positive and cheerful. I have to make them laugh or keep them entertained with wide ranging conversations.

While in the thick of it, I enjoy doing those things and being with people.  It's the drained mental energy, the exhausted soul and the lack of depth in those connections that torture me.

All of this makes me unwilling to put myself out there. How can I build personal relationships? I have nothing to offer anyone. Just the teasing and sarcasm. That gets old, transparent and eventually avoided.  And so do I.

And if I do try for more, for something of substance, I dive too deep and drive people away.

I'm apparently a zero OR sixty kind of gal. Meaningless fluff or desperate need to connect at much too deep a level. Nothing in between. Neither seems to be what people want.

They had some really useful things to say in that podcast. Practical. Profound. But all I could think about was how much I fear rejection. How easily I break. How no one wants to hear any of this whinning shit and especially not from me.

So, I'm screwed. Ironically. Wouldn't know what to do with any of it if I had it. Don't know how to be a friend, a mate, a colleague. Don't even know how to learn how.

So, great podcast. Great info and ideas. All things fairly easy to extrapolate into my fiber art wannabe world. I should. I would if I could.

 I don't know how.

Fundamentally flawed.

Have to rewire myself and learn.

Alone.

On my own.

I'm the only one that will have me.

That's bad for business.

That's bad for me.

Gotta figure this out. Seek them out. Anyone. Everyone. Without alienation.

Yep.

Screwed.

Hook on.
The Cx

Instant Gratification, Success and the Emotionally Unstable

If you take things personally, you won’t be able to get back up when the instant gratification doesn’t pay off.
@SOSstudioSocial

 Sessions #54 1/28/16 https://t.co/rBdDEpBgnR
Music Placement, Crowdfunding and Building Personal Relationships.

Somebody's been looking at my therapist's notes.

I am so very screwed.

Success and the Withdrawn Artist

Get to know people on a human level, rather than one-upping your own career. 

@ErickMacek

SOSstudio Sessions 54  -  1/28/16
Music Placement, Crowdfunding and Building Personal Relationships.
@SOSstudioSocial  https://t.co/rBdDEpBgnR 


I'm screwed.

More catch up.

Feel like poo. No, amend that; I wish I felt as good as poo.

Just general malaise - down, dizzy, weak, ache in pit of stomach, warm, frustrated.

DK

DC

#crochet365 - 2016

Day - 19 - Where I create

Phoned it in. Too embarrassed of how my place looks, ...is. So took photos of the view from the couch I never seem to leave:

Day - 20 - WIP

Even more embarrassing is that I'm barely doing anything. Had such high hopes for getting my ass back in gear. Can't move forward without addressing the problem. So my WIP for 1/20  - me.

Day - 21 - TBT

Running out of things I've done. Uh Oh.

Eye glasses cozy:

Day - 22 - chunky

Aw, man! Don't work with yarn much less chunky. Have that scarf and blanket, I guess. But I'm not ready to share those yet.

The snake baskets turned out to have a little bulk. Gonna have to do:

Day - 23 - yellow

Love the color. Don't use it much. What's up wit dat? Probably too sunny and happy. I'm less in that mood than I am in "little black raincloud" mode.

Do occasionally:

Rubber Ducky Applique:

Day - 24 - crochet inspiration

Brings us to today. Can't think straight when I feel blaaah. Maybe photo, sketch, finished product?

Saving it for longer post. Guess I can still do the longer version later. Save sketch for then.

So these two characters:

played by these two guys:

inspired this crochet piece:

Crochet inspiration - game, set, match

...until tomorrow.

Hook on,
C

crochet365 - 2016 - Jan - Day 18

#crochet365 - 2016 - Jan - Day 18 - crochet challenges

These are from a challenge back in 2010. Theme was thing-a-day for the month of February. I decided on an animal alphabet motif. Like grade school banners.

I have cats. Have always had cats. I even make cats. Weird little crochet appliques of cats with, oh, let's call it "personality."

So it became a cat-alphabet, or as I was feeling rather punny at the time, a catphabet.

I'm too lazy to dig up, fix and post all 29 (Leap Year). And I couldn't seem to choose between them, so here are four chosen realitavely at random.

Hazzuh.

The Me

Crochet365, 2016, Jan 16 - kids , 17 - my precious

Had a rough weekend. Completely missed  posting Sat. 16 crochet365. Had something chosen just ...needed to sleep.

Which is depressive code for hide away, ignore life and wait till it all goes away.

It finally settled down and and went away enough so I could post (share, whatever) on Sun.

Jan 16 theme/prompt was "kids". Never had them. Can't anymore, so never will. I can only assume that it's for the best. Wouldn't be fair to any poor tyke.

Anyway:

#crochet365 - Day 16 - kids

From an old online challenge, I think. I remember that "Family" was the topic.

Designed to evoke memories of preschool aged crayon etchings. Or at least look like one. Kid art. Check.

And those rightmost stick figures represent my brother and I in our early elementary years. Kid figures. Check.

Lots of cats, dogs, space, air and love. Overall, pretty easy, nostalgic, warm and fluffy thoughts. And  twofer.

Sun 17 was harder:

#crochet365 - Day 17 - my precious - ?????

I couldn't get past Gollum and gold rings. Wasn't up to whipping up a LOTR piece.
So I had to scramble.

Jewelry?

                                     Nah.

Treasure chest?


                                                          Nah.

Proof of Crazy hat?

.





                      Nah.


...and then I thought of my beautiful babies, Calvin and Hobbes.

circa 1991

Both gone by 2006. Sickness and pain. Watched them go slowly.

My little Hobbie. Tried so hard to force her to stay. Horrible tube feeding sessions. Terrible rash from diarrhea. Miserable discomfort. I had to stop. Had to let her go. Found her ...still, not breathing before had the chance to give her comfort.

Made myself pay penance for that. The paw print tattoo on the back of my shoulder. Hurt. Burned. Used same painkilling greasy cream on my scab until it detached and fell off.

Calvin was different. Saw him stop eating waste away Calvin. Vet let me have him one last weekend to say goodbye.

Too thin to hold without hurting him. But he came to me one night and I helped him up onto the bed next to me.  He slept next to my heart.

That was the night before he didn't have to suffer anymore.

I failed them both. They suffered. Hobbie worse than Calvin, but they shouldn't have had to at all.

Didn't pay my pound of flesh for Calvin until much later. 2011. Diabetes, fatty liver cirrhosis, hysterectomy. Serves me right.

I failed my precious kitties. Like I failed my Mother before them. And my Father since.

Serves me right.

The C

The Invisible Spectrum

Is it only visible pain that can rouse the artistic muse?

Alcoholism. Substance abuse. Sexual addiction. All of it. The "romanticism" of  serious artistry. How sickness can be "romantic" alludes me.

Succumbing to consumption is the stuff of sepia toned movies. Dying an alcohol soaked, syphillic tweaker - not so much.

But somehow self destructive behavior remains the favored darlings of plots in movies and books.

Almost.

Depression has no symptoms. If you don't know any better.

The symptoms aren't sexy. Sleeping all day, crying for no apparent reason, withdrawing, isolating, longing, delusion - all of it. They have no dramatic appeal. The aren't even easy to depict accurately.

An illness of omission.

An ironic bitch too.

Inactivity wrapped loosely around raging, screaming, garment rending, hate filled, and  utterly internalized violence.

So, can invisible pain rouse the artistic muse?

When stasis is the symptom, is action the cure?

How can it be?

There is no spark to ignite the fuel. There is no fuel to light.

Maybe if I can dig deep enough. Maybe there's a lump of coal deep in the back of the furnace that can still burn.

But why?

Ah, the choking  returns.

Trying. Thinking about trying invokes the foul minions of depression to action.

And the sole activity programmed into the vile cores of their beings is to poison every last vestige of initiative left in me.

Invisibly, of course.

C

The Meh Approach to Life, Liberty and the Pretense of Happiness

I 'm a talker.

I talk.

A lot.

I am a talker.

...on paper.

In person, I have to turn off some switches and push some buttons before I reach anything near my level of written verbosity.

The difference between a captive audience and one that can flee.

But, also the difference between purging my bellfry and performing for society.

Talking face to face is exhausting for me. Which is confoundingly odd in that my people performances are light, airy, gently teasing, and generally completely meaningless. What is there in that to drain personal energy, right? Everything.

On the other hand, writing in vague obscurity is freedom. All holds barred. Seat belts and nodoz required.

Which makes for painfully long, scattershot blog entries. (And emails, believe me.)

I have made conscious efforts in the past to knock that the hell off. But I'm old now. Don't have the stamina or patience to self edit anymore. It's time to just be me.

Great thing about blogging:  you don't like, you don't have to stay.

So stick around or don't. I'll be here.

Talking.

Hook on.
The Cx

1947 - 2016

David Bowie.

True legends are few and far between. Now there is one fewer and the space between them has grown further apart.

Growing up, I had heard of something called "Bowie". Some sort of big deal, girly guy singer. (I'm from Texas.)

I grew older and learned of glam rock, aliases and androgeny. And cool. Class.

But I still didn't really know Bowie's work. I thought I had been alone in that. I was wrong.

I ran across this article in the Guardian just now:

David Bowie as the goblin king with a 15-year-old Jennifer Connelly in the 1986 film Labyrinth.

Photograph:Tristar/Everett/Rex/Shutterstock

How Labyrinth led me to David Bowie

Many girls in the 80s discovered Bowie not through music, but as Labyrinth’s beguiling baddie Jareth, playing with gender roles opposite Jennifer Connelly      

Charlotte Richardson Andrews

Tuesday 12 January 2016 04.00 EST

I never knew. What a relief.

Until I started reading, that is. Some of it applied to me but by no means all of it.

I'm not, nor have I ever been a hard core saber-rattling feminist. I vehemently believe in equality but by existence and insinuation not anger and aggression.

Neither am I a sex-it-up kind of woman, not even as a teenager. Apparently quite asexual. Not by choice, believe me. By ...circumstance.

I'm not even within the normal range of fan-girl (woman, broad, gal, whatever). I don't want my idols, I want to be my idols. Live their lives, know their passions. (Art passions not carnal passions, pervs.)

But instead of boiling bunnies, I've settled into being content on obsessing over their performances. With maybe the occasional, pathetic attempt to exist at the outermost periphery of their lives.

Not so with Bowie. My experience of his work was as an actor. In Labyrinth. Ha! See?This all ties together.

He was captivating.

He was legendary.

I finally saw why. This one performance is how I always knew him and now it is how I will always remember him.

I never needed anything else. Never sought out his life. Never coveted his passions. Too big, too much, too otherworldly for me to have the effrontery to deign sully his aura with my existence.

So why, of all the man's gifts, did I choose his acting? In a funny little fantasy meets cosplayer meets wishful reality film no less. One largely populated by creations fresh from the Jim Henson Creature Shop. Muppets with mood, style and atmosphere.

Simple answer.

I respect and adore acting that flows off an actor. That exists in their eyes. As Jareth, Bowie was so comfortable, relaxed and, well ...genuine. A fictionalized mystical character that could exist.

And his singing in the role wasn't bad either. The music and the lyrics just seemed to mean something to him. He could feel what he was singing. He was what he was singing.

He was even good with babies. Genuine smile, attention and voice just for the tyke. Okay, so that might have been an ovary thing.

Anyway, every last one of those things I so love came solely from the subtleties of facial expression and body language. I don't find that magic in a lot of actor/singers. I'm never letting that go.

Even now, when memory becomes memorial. I'm holding fast.

So, may David Bowie rest in peace knowing he touched all kinds of lives in such myriad ways.

C

Cathcy Uppy on the 365 Thingy.

Catching up. Had some sort of ACF yesterday. Ran out of day before getting to play.

#crochet365 - Day 10 - blue

Went with a classic. Blue Kitty Face Necklace. From back when I thought jewelry was a great idea.

I had a surprisingly limited number of blue items in my cave of blunders considering that it's my favorite color.

But each one I found was kinda neat :

 Amulet Bag Necklace
Messenger Bag Style

Empty Bowls
 "Let Them Eat Soup"

Small Black Heart
Of Malintent

I

It's not often that I examine things that I've made in retrospect, much less actualy like the way they turned out. But I like these.

And that's even despite the fact that I've had a hard day, upstairs. That's usually when I most hate everything I've done, been, am. 

Nothing to see here, folks. Keep moving. Just a light, lingering malaise. Upbeat. Must be upbeat. Or I don't get my lovely, lovely drugs.

Day - 11 - on the go

Wanted to see if I could replicate the crochet cable designs for yarn with my steels and threads. To see what they would look like.

And of course I reached for a dark, dark green that muffled much of the stitch definition. 

Eh. That's OK. It's why photo programs let you mess with the contrast.

These were the first cables I ever made. Having been able to make them look this tight and straight since. 

No big surprise. Anything I can figure out in the first go, I can never seem to repeat. Must be tied in to my "figured it out, bored now" psyche.

So I was into business cards at the time. (Back when I still thought I could focus enough to start a business heehee.) I like playing grown up with them. Guess I always have preferred the trappings to the work. In everything. 

Gee, you'd think that I would  look better, then. 

OK, now. Just too many facets on the sparkly diamondoid that is my waking brain. Drained, bored and tired.

Where's dinner?

Always,

Me

Crochet365 aka Keep On Keeping On

Where was I?

#crochet365

Day 7 - TBT (apparently, Throw Back Thurs.)

Day 8 - stash

...and so it goes

Hook it,

Da C

Instagram/Twitter Photo Challenge -Day 9 -size matters

#crochet365

Day 9 - size matters

The idea of crocheted books starts bopping around inside my belfry periodically.

NOT crochet books. Not books about how to crochet. Not even books about crochet art and artist (if they exist).

No.

I'm talking about books that have been crocheted. That are made of crochet.

I love books. More than I love reading them, even more than I love writing and making things up.

One of the things I absolutely love to make. So playing around yeeeears ago, I made an approximately one inch book.

Of course, to see if I could, but also to see how minimal I could go and still tell a story.

This is what I conjured:

(Not any kind of photographer and don't really get my Kindle's camera either. Afraid we must live with the blur.)

  

Luv
("Love" didn't fit.)

Pages, Sewn In

"?" - They Meet

"!" - They Fight

"heart" - They'll Fall in Love

"heart heart"  -  They Live
Happily Ever After

And so, size did matter.

Hook on!

The C

Size matters and an Eyebrow Lifts

The #crochet365 for 1/9/16 was "size matters"
 I had already shared my response of a 1 inch book I made eons ago,

When I noticed this Tweet by @CrochetBlogger aka Kathryn Vercillo that shares the following passage:

The highlights, for me:

and:

Thought it was really interesting idea. Then I realized that:

1) I already do that all the time:

2) It did and does tell me why I crochet.

Experiment, explore, puzzle solve, play, figure it out and ultimately, to see if I can.

The combination of action and motivation  are inherently bound together in my psyche.

CXI'm a thread crochet artist but I'm also an idea collector/hoarder. I'll see an unusual pattern originally designed for yarn that creates an interesting texture or over all effect. Then I'll break out my steel hooks and size 10 cotton thread and start playing.

Of course, once I figure out how to make something work in thread, I'll lose interest. Although, the technique may eventually pop up in my work in a different capacity. Play and gather.

Well, that is the what I get out of crocheting.
Now as to the why crochet in particuar is my chosen media... I'm still not terribly sure.

It took a lot of work to whittle the rotted wood of my Capital "D" Depression down enough so I could see the rewards of the media.

I've been enjoying that understanding for a while now but now realize it's time to ask why, specifically, crochet.

 A rambling for another time.

To get away from the internet,  purchance to hook.

Always the Me,
C

Run-at-the-mouthitis and Maintaining a Public Presence

Just read an article about one page websites.* The author presents a solid exploration of the usefulness of this type of site. Particular focus is given to the "established" arts.

That is simply politically neutral sounding snootiness meant to exclude the art genres the art world refuses to recognize as legitimate and meaningful.

Nature abhors a vacuum and my nature despises elitism and its inherently active exclusionary practices. Damn snot-buckets.

All that bile aside, I've been trying to figure out the value such a website has for a visual artist, particularly fiber arts.

Specifically, is one long page a useful format for a certain fledgling neophyte fiber artist with an eccentric, uh, eclectic, view of humanity and the universe?

Don't that sound grand! Snooty high faluting words there, Missy.

Words that I love to play with, to over exaggerate and to explode fantastically into a twinkling display of talky fireworks... for example.

It's fairly safe to say then that one long scroll of information isn't ideally suited to my style. Fairly ironic, that, actually. Considering that my alledged style is one long winded meandering scroll of thought.

I've encountered a few links (including to this blog) that once tapped drop you into what can only be called the surrounding neighborhood of what you clicked to see. That is beyond annoying to me.

Madly scrolling through entry after unrelated entry is a huge waste of time. Simply, an unecceasary challenge to my attention span and psychoreactive medications.

So I wouldn't even enjoy trying to read something in this format much less presenting my meandering thougths this way publicly.

I finally recognized in myself the complete lack of restraint that accompanies my curiosity. I have to admit, there is no way on God's Green Earth that I will ever use fewer words. And I'm totally okay with that,  now.

I have to believe that seperate web pages devoted to separate ideas is essential in establishing and maintaining a viable web site for me.

Despite the information gleaned from that article. I just don't see how it can be of use to blogs for artists that wish to document their process and progress.

Maybe as a kitschy, personal blog. Like for a traveler who wants to write impression of a region as they sit jostled by close to ancient rail line.

Just not me

The C


*Knowing the value of noting source material, this is the link to the article responsible for this midi tome of a blog post:

One Page Website.

I hesitated to include it in the body of the text because it comes from a marketing companies website. I am not edorsing or even recommeding  this site. I only wanted to cite (ha) the freebie article info source. Still debating whether to make use of their service for myself. Therefore the presence of  this disclaimer-ish addendum.

The C

So. Still trying to exist in the world.

Out there.

Not in my head.

Perhaps "chaotic" is the best way to describe my efforts. Personally, I prefer the more appropriate term "half-ass".

So many things I want to do, yet mental focus still eludes me.

But,  I can try.

So, every so often, I check out the "six word story" writing prompts at Writer.ly on Twitter - @WriterlyTweets. They are a lot of  fun. And helpful.

 I find it difficult to be succinct in my writing. (The term you're looking for is "Uh, yeah.")

I've been using Twitter and it's 140 characters thing to help temper my talky tendencies with fair success. The six word story prompts are also helpful to this end, and plus one major bonus:

The opportunity to be fancifully creativity.

The prompts promote restraint while dusting off the creative impulse...and I get to feel like a right proper smarty pants to boot.  At the very least they make me smile.

Hook it!
The Cx

A Year of Crochet - Come Hell or Highwater

Soooo. 2016, the year to Participate.

One step in my plan for world domination is to develop as an artist.

Crochet something everyday.

Build a portfolio.

Exhibit.

Just keep working until I become comfortable using that word in the same breath as my name.

 To this end, I'm participating (Ah. Ah. See what I did there?) in this #crochet365 Instagram challenge.

Don't yet have access to Instagram. (Silly me has a stupid Kindle Fire. Amazon no like Instagram.) That's another step.

But for right now, I can still do the challenge on Twitter.

The challenge offers fairly broad prompts to interpret freely. So I have been. Only one problem.

It's rather disturbing that the only things I have to photograph and post are from 2011 and before. Proof that I seriously need to step up my game. Or at least buy a ticket into the stadium.

So far:
Day 1 - anything - 2015/2016 Cats , old and  baby new year. 2011/2012 photo shopping.

Day 2 - silly yarn - Three yarn types from that Jillian fiber necklace project. 2011 I think.

Day 3 - pink - mustache & lady eyes with lip button on pink frame background as journal cover.

Day 4 - yarn in a box, size crochet cotton thread, scraps too long to discard.

Day 5 - designer - Joan Dull 2011, First artist whose work was like mine.

Day 6 - WIP - Thread Scrap Mandala

More to come.

Need to get used to exposure even though I hate feeling vulnerable.

Sigh deeply, keep head down, red line it through.

Hook on!
C

One Word 2016 - Whu?

There is a start up company called SOSstudio. It's a business incubator for songwriters.


busi·ness in·cu·ba·tor

NOUN

1. a business that provides advice, equipment, temporary qpremises, or other facilities to those starting up a business and lacking in capital

Powered by EncartaDictionaries

It's such a cool idea and the peripheral services promoting the idea of artist as entrepreneur is open to all types of artists.

I've never listened to podcasts before in my life. My attention span is quite fra... SQUIRREL!

...quite fragmented. But this concept and the bundle of energy that is the CEO fascinate me. Because: 1) wish the former existed for fiber artists 2) covet the life the latter leads. So, I started listening.

Podcast #50 Your One Word Goal for 2016 -posted around New Year's Eve. (Big shocker!) A proposed method for planning out the year as it concerns your art and career.

I thought about that idea quite seriously (for me anyway). What I came up with has deeply personal meaning to me. Embarrassing, humbling, tear soliciting, painful meaning. My eyes tear up even now as I procrastinate typing it out.

See, being the wiley Borderline Personality that I am, I want to hide and can be very slippery about avoiding discussing  things. Especially once I get going spewing words.

I love to play with words and I am pretty good at slinging them about. Not usually this self confident/arrogant. But I have been told such and I'm in "more than" mode right now. So I'll crow a little as long as it's understood that I'm not flawless. I hate when my caws are proven false, like any normal person.

So, I hid the true power of the one-word I chose behind vagarities. Just posted the word alone and moved on. Trouble with that is that no one asked for elaboration. Which hurt the feelings I was trying to protect in the first place. Oh course, a light breeze can hurt my feelings.

OK enough of that. Sharing is draining my energy.  The word I chose:

PARTICIPATE

It's not that simple, however. It really should have been commit, follow-through, show and / or join. But "participate" is a nice all encompasser that remains vague while letting people think they know what it really means. Slippery hiding.

So what does it mean? Direct and honest: I want to belong.

Hmm. That never occurred to me as a choice before, yet it is what I crave at my core in everything including life. Should have been "Belong" but that reveals too much of what I am so incredibly sensitive about.

So putting it down where potentially someone else might possibly one day actually maybe see it counts as accountable for me. I don't want to flake on this one because I want to win at the endgame so badly.

Well, it's out there. If I want a better life then I have to do things differently. 

So they say.

The Cx