FABRIC ART MINI BOOK

A concertina-style book that folds neatly into itself and has two self-covers.

There are 6 panels on each side which give lots of scope for embellishment.

I used a variety of African-imported textiles.
The panels are embellished with kanta-style embroidery
and primitive cross-stiches and lots
of beads and buttons.
This was great fun to create.
I am using this book in a small class that I am teaching at artstream studio.

Below are 2 photos showing each side of the book.

This book doesn't have such as strong a narrative as I have done in the past.
It really was an exercise in color, texture and dimension.
When the concertina book is closed, there are 5 external spines which I beaded in several different ways. In the photos above and below, the spines are finished with beads made of bone interspersed with hand-made fabric beads that are entwined with metallic threads.


I really love the concertina book and have another that is about 95% complete.

This one is an "Homage" to Celia Thaxter.

On my reading table. . . .

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

Kim Edwards

Viking 2005

I just finished reading this wonderful first novel by Kim Edwards, a graduate of the Iowa Writer's Workshop. The book, its compelling story and beautifully written narrative, was given much praise by other writers -- writers who I admire and read over and over again like Sue Monk Kidd, Jodi Picoult and Ursula Hegi.

The story begins in Lexengton, KY, 1964. Because of a snowstorm, a physician is forced to deliver his own twins with the assistance of his nurse. The first born is a boy, healthy and strong, "an 8 on the APGAR" the nurse reports to the doctor. The second, a girl, has all the physical characteristics of a baby with Down's Syndrome. In a moment of panic, the physician tells his nurse to take the baby away to a 'home for the feebleminded' where she can be with her 'own kind'. He tells his wife the twin died and the body taken away for burial. He truly believes his decision is right and it will protect his wife from hurt. But the decision turns out to portend a life of sadness, lies and mis-taken steps.

• Chicago Tribune: Unfolds from an absolutely gripping premise, drawing you deeply and irrevocably into the entangled lives of two families and the devastating secret that shaped them both. I loved this riveting story.
• Sue Monk Kidd: Anyone would be struck by the extraordinary power and sympathy of "The Memory Keepers Daughter.
• Sena Jeter Naslund: Kim Edwards has created a tale of regret and redemption, of honest emotion, of characters haunted by their past. This is simply a beautiful book.

Caroline, the nurse and a single woman who believes her real life has not yet begun, prepares to take the infant to the 'home' but on arriving finds it such a horrific place, is unable to leave her there. And another of the powerful, life-altering decisions are made: Caroline decides to keep the child herself. She is not impulsive woman but a careful, conservative one so she does not run away with the child. A careful but quick departure is planned and executed.

And so the novel has presented us with powerful moral issues in its first pages. Even so early in the narrative, the reader feels a certain empathy for both David, the physician and Caroline, the nurse. We know these are basically good people; not evil or malevolent. These are well-intentioned choices.

Kim Edwards has said in an interview that a paster at her church 'gave' her the story -- planted the seed for the novel that grew overtime until later, a friend re-told a family tale of a brother who was institutionalized because of a genetic or birth defect.

The story unfolds around secrets and lies . . . lives built on lies . . . and how the lies shaped their lives and their marriage . . . and the secret silences that filled their homes, their hearts.

David felt he knew precisely the medical prognosis of the twin. He predicted a short life of illness, respiratory and cardiac problems. A short life of intellectual, physical, developmental retardation. A short life would be a sad and frustrating burden on the family.

A personal memoire: it is 1967. February in Massachusetts just after a blizzard. I have just come home from the hospital with my second child, Jonathan. Throughout the 4 or 5 days in the hospital I worried that 'something' wasn't 'right' but this was actively and vociferously denied by the ob-gyn and the staff pediatrician. At home, Jonathan was too quiet. Didn't seem to get hungry. Didn't cry. But he did have a frightening wheeze. I never left him alone; I carried him with me everywhere, from room to room. Finally, frightened, I phoned our pediatrician with my concerns; he agreed to stop by our house to look at Jonathan. (Yes, that was done in 1967. Imagine.) This doctor was a good doctor, one I liked and respected. He examined Jonathan. Held him over one large hand and let the arms and legs fall loosely, as in a mini-APGAR. Jonathan had no instinct or the ability to try to 'save' himself. The doctor turning to me said, "this is a mongol baby, you know; you'll have to institutionalize". To protect the child? To save the family? The town? The schools? What? Why? We did not institutionalize Jonathan.

What has changed since the 1960s.
are we a more enlightened society?
We have the right to education act
the civil rights of the disabled
and the ADA.
closed our state institutions.
But do we really have a more generous
attitude towards people with disabilities?

More Altered Book Pages

I have 2 altered book projects going simultaneously
and enjoying both
~~no, more than that~~I am addicted to them!!

What's her story?

This page includes:
painted vintage lace,
original ephemera:
(the Paris hotel calling card & uncancelled German stamp).

The hotel card is in a glassine envelope and adhered with mounting squares.

To give the pages texture and dimension,
I layered paint, paper, fabrics and stamping.
This page features original ephemera ~~
advertisement from a Vanity Fair magazine circa early 1930s.

The angle of the photograph creates a wonderfully sensuous feel.

New Altered Book Pages

I'm teaching a class in creating altered books at the Rye Public Library. For class samples, I prepared two books. One with only pages removed, others glued and gessoed with a first coat of a light color paint. The surfaces of the other book were prepared in much the same way but for this one I prepared a niche or shadow box at the end and some folded pages in the center of the book and another area that is ready for inserts.

The pages below are not complete and may yet change quite dramatically before they are but I wanted to have samples for the class.

The book isn't terribly old really and the binding is tight. There is an ugly place on the jacket that got chewed up somehow making the book a perfect specimen for an altered book project. I don't have a single theme for this book but am letting some of the original images and text guide me. One of the images was of tango dancers and that lead me to the internet for research and more images.
The title of the book is, The Afternoon Tea and it included a nice history of tea, how to prepare the perfect cup of tea, and all sorts of tea parties from tea dances, to tango dances that featured tea, and garden parties. I maintained some of the images from the book. For example, the small tango dances in the background in the photo below and the Japanese tea ceremony in the photo that follow were kept used as jumping off points.

This is the right side of the first spread. Already I have "repented" (as Lillian Hellman says). This is the second incarnation of this page; the first just wasn't working. Perhaps, that's why I love altering books -- a very forgiving craft!

I am blessed

. . . with Esther, nearly 6, first child of my baby sister (18 years younger than me). A lovely little lady who uses big words, loves tea parties and making pictures. After her first day at kindergarten, her mom asked if school was all that she imagined it would be. Esther answered,

"I had no imagination of it!"

. . . with grandson, Dylan, going on 4 years old:

a little boy with a big boy's curiosity.

Dylan lives in Florida; what a delight to see how much he has grown, learned and discovered between visits.

In between we miss him.

My Victoria ... second grandchild who spent nearly every weekend with us and weeks at a time during the summer.

A bright-eyed child, a beautiful young lady.

Talented.

Curious &

Loving.

Twins
Ari & Noah.
March, 2006

Esther's little brothers.

Their mothers' precious boys.

Ari & Noah ... a few months later.

Becoming little boys.

A magical physical closeness.

Happy Mother's Day

to daughters, sisters & mothers
in thousands of generations:

women whose skills created
beautiful and bountiful civilizations.

in Just-spring

when the world is mud-luscious

the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come running

from marbles and piracies

and it’s spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer old balloonman whistles far and wee

and bettyandisbel come dancing from hop-scotch and jump-rope

and it’s spring

and the goat-footed balloon Man whistles far and wee

e.e. cummings

Early 20th Century Linen Figural White Work Heavily Padded Satin Stitch
Outline Stitches Creating the Dance
A Celebratory Cloth ~ Beautiful and Joyous ~

Chocurua, New Hampshire ~we stopped here along Route 16 north on our way to the Mt. Washington Hotel. The weather was warm and almost summer-like on the coast, we packed a little picnic of sandwiches & tea but the high wind made the air temps too chilly to stay long.

We drove up Route 16 and on towards the Mt. Washington Hotel via Route 302 with breath-taking scenery. Spectacular, even. Above is a sign along the roadway showing the elevation of the Presidential Range (of the White Mountains) with Mt. Washington the highest at 6280 feet.

This was our destination, the Mt. Washington Hotel, nestled beneath Mt. Washington, a real beauty and one of the few 'grand old ladies' of the 19th/20th century.
Sunrise over Mt. Washington~~ and the Hotel.

The long drive from Route 302 onto the property of the Mt. Washington.

History has it that the long drive was a great advantage during Prohibition: by the time the 'revenuers' got to the hotel, the guests were drinking tea!

Oh, she is lovely!
Imagine packing trunks of finery and boarding the train for a long summer's stay.Tennis? Snooze on the porch?

Dance in the Grand Ballroom?

Good night, Ladies.

Of Radio Days & Memories

The last few days brought pleasant memories. . .

It was about 1970 . . . . I was a young mom . . . very young by today's standards. . . a stay-at-home mom with two children under the age of three when we bought our first home.

The house was in a tiny village in that little corner of the world where Vermont, New Hampshire and Massachusetts sort-of-meet. A mere 300 souls inhabited that quiet village whose life centered around the village green. Our house joined a few others to surround the green which also had a country inn-past-its-prime, the town hall, general store, post office and library (only opened on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons).

The house had been occupied by the same family for a quarter century and was always called, "the Anderson house" -- even after the Anderson's were long-gone and we were paying the mortgage, re-roofing, and gardening there. It was a large house; we had little money and were grateful to relatives who offered furniture from their attics which I stripped, sanded, painted, stained and recovered. And so we created a home with an interesting, if eclectic mix of styles that we loved; our rooms always brought smiles to the faces of visitors.

One of our prize possessions came from the home of a family friend who had lived in the same house all her married life. Their home was at the end of a short, narrow lane, a small cottage style with seven rooms, two large porches front and back, a wonderful grape arbor, pear and apple trees, French lilacs and the tiniest tiniest garage you can imagine. The husband died first; they had no children; the widow became frail and forgetful. The only relative, a New York city cousin arranged for her to live in a nursing home and asked us to house-sit (and that is yet another story!). Later when we purchased our own home 50 miles away, they offered the contents of the house to us.

The house was packed with the stuff and things of their long life together: Mission and Stickley. Lots of the heavy, ornate oak. The dining room table was claw footed with a matching glass fronted tall chest and buffet typical of the 20s and 30s. Tall, Victorian pressed-back chairs. But oak and other pieces from this period were NOT desireable at that time; you could NOT sell them; it was almost necessary to PAY someone to cart them away.

But we accept their offer.

Among the furniture was a tall floor-model tube radio from the mid-1930s. It was in pristine condition, it's cabinetry was smooth and glistening without a scratch or a dent. The original purchase papers were folded into an envelope and tucked into the back. And, wonder of wonders, it played. And so the radio, along with other treasures from the house moved with us to our new house in the tiny village.

The tall radio stood proudly in the dining room and was often a topic of conversation ~~~ which was, really, all we ever asked of it. But one day a friend and neighbor who had moved to the village about the same time we did stopped by for coffee. I am certain she had seen the radio before but I doubt she'd ever commented on it. On this day, however, she did make note of it and then asked:

"Does it still play the old radio programs!!!!!!!!"

I know. I know.
Millions of Americans have been to Niagra Falls.

Generations of lovers honeymooned there. But it took me 60 years
--- oh, right --- 63 years to get there.

Larry and I drove up to Canada on April 19 to attend a conference on leukemia that was being held in St. Catherines, Ontario at the White Oaks Resort, Spa and Conference Centre. And that was finally the excuse I needed to do this American of all trips.

The conference ran from noon on Friday through noon on Sunday and kept us very busy and very focused....no time to play. But on Sunday, we drove down the Canadian falls and did the typical tourist-y things. And had a ball!

We found the casino where I took the opportunity to try my hand at gambling -- and won $119 in about 10 minutes! I like that! From the casino, we walked down what might be the tackiest of the tackiest vacation streets in North America. It is at the end of the this street that one can gaze at the Falls. We drove the parkway through wine country; I gazed at its natural beauty. Our destination was Niagra-on-the-Lake. We parked the car and wandered the main street of little boutiques and restaurants. One quite wonderful place called Prince of Wales Hotel offered high tea at 4 and a dining room for dinner. We, however, passed it up as being a tad too pricey. I mean, $36.00 for meatloaf -- and that's Canadian money, mind you and the least expensive entree on the menu. It turned out to be a good decision as we found a nice little basement restaurant that featured delicious Mediterranian fare.

And now I can't wait to go back. I want to drive through little towns and stop along the way. I want to re-visit wine country when I really have the time to sample.

And I want to go back to the casino.

Artsy

Fartsy

Art furniture at the conference center!

Fabric Journals

This is a page from an art journal that I made to celebrate my daughter Amy and her dream of owning a horse. It was a dream that she made come true and I have been so proud of her. Over the last five or six years, I've made fabric journals to mark important occasions, to honor a special person, or to commemorate an artistic achievement. For example, the page below was made to respond to a challenge put out by Quilting Arts in 2004 and was to illustrate the process of creating a piece of wearable art. It was published in the spring issue 2004.

In May and June, I am teaching a series of classes in making fabric art journals at artstream studios in Rochester New Hampshire . Go here for more information and to register.