Early Birthday Presents

 

For some reason the National Tunisian Artisans’ Fair occurred at an earlier date this year, so I went to pick out my presents well ahead of my official birthday. This time I went with a friend who has more stamina for shopping than my husband. If you didn’t catch a view of last year’s presents, here they are today:

With such a wet winter I’m surprised the cactus and succulents haven’t keeled over, but they seem to be flourishing.

I planned to seek out similar pots from the same artisan, but was disappointed to find he had nearly doubled his prices and the quality of the designs had gone downhill. Nothing appealed to me. Drat! I should have bought him out last year! He did display several very large pots with lovely designs priced at $300. In my mind, such an object becomes a responsibility and I wouldn’t dare put it in the garden.

          However, numerous talented artists and artisans showed tantalizing wares, beautifully crafted objects in olive wood, tin, copper, silver, mosaic, wrought iron, and textiles. Once again, I looked for the perfect gift in an effort to avoid adding to the multiplying “stuff” at home. Like last year, my birthday present awaited me in the last booth that I visited. And once again a plant container caught my attention.

                           There were several styles of Tunisian vests. 
      This container stands 11”/28 cm high and the back is decorated as well.

Once I set it on a table in the living room, I forgot about planting it. The sculptural aspect is pronounced and appealing. At a cost of $18, I didn’t even bother to bargain.

               Then there was a series of shoe and feet planters on another shelf.

           My apologies if you should find this a bit ghoulish. I found it delightful!

                           The ankle bracelet is a traditional piece of jewelry.

            And this foot even has the designs that are usually done with henna. 
                          It goes well with the shoe-shaped rocks on the table.

                         Do you think my plant will walk away now?

And this brings me to another birthday present: a plane ticket to the States. This is the last year that I leave my garden in springtime, however, I’m looking forward to seeing family and friends, including blogging friends. Here’s my tentative itinerary:

End of March-April 17^th, Knoxville, Tennessee, where I hope to visit the Smoky Mountain Quilt Guild. Maybe I’ll wear my bathrobe!

April 18^th-22, Lexington, Kentucky.

April 23^rd-to beginning of May, Portland and Salem, OR.

Possibly, I’ll swing by Seattle and/or the San Francisco Area. Still not sure.

So, if any fellow bloggers/artists/quilters/crafters in those areas would like to get together for a cup of coffee, send me an email at multicoloredpieces@gmail.com and we’ll see what can be arranged.

Of course, I’ll keep posting. And next year, I'll take my camera to the Artisans' Fair to write about it properly.

Perhaps a Purse: True Confessions

I confess. After much hesitation, I took an on-line class. Hesitation because of the possibility that another artist’s hand might appear in my own work. Certain artists promote taking classes while others say forget it because you need to develop your own voice. The voice, I’ve got down, but can it be corrupted?

I wanted to:

     1. Experience an on-line class to see how it worked from a pedagogical point of view (methods, materials, handouts, videos, etc.) in case I should want to go back to teaching and use the new technologies.

     2. Learn something new and a class would be good to push me outside my comfort zone. I wanted to do more sketching, but have it linked to textiles

     3.  Participate in a forum, meet some like-minded artists/artisans through the internet.

Results:

1. The methods were interesting, the teacher was informative, the materials were satisfactory.

     2. It was more of a review, pulling up things I had forgotten, yet the class did push me gently outside my comfort zone. When faced with the empty page of an assignment, I found resistance and was reminded of why I didn’t do an art major in college. Ideas fled with an empty canvas glaring at me--I never have this problem when working with fabric and stitch. I sketch more often now in order to overcome the problem of the paralyzing blank page.

     3. The forum did not develop: I was the only person participating. Nobody is to blame. It appears to be a risk of the on-line class format. Students may not be motivated to actively participate because they must squeeze it in with the occurences of daily life. To attend a class in person requires more of a commitment.

     4. I finished a small project that began as my sketch, which I transferred to a piece of fabric. I used outline stitch as filler, plus running stitch and a few French knots.

Here's the rub: this looks like another artist’s work. And this brings me to another Mrs. H(e)art story.

Mrs. H(e)art, my first art teacher when I was eight, made only one mistake, but it was memorable. I was working diligently, but with some frustration, on a floral still life when she came to my easel. She must have been in a hurry as others needed her help as well. She took my brush, dipped it in black paint and with two deft strokes added an elegant outline that suggested the form of flowers.

When I took my watercolor home, my mother raved, I mean, she gushed, she went wild. She had it matted and framed professionally (it seemed huge) and hung it in the living room in a prominent position so that every visitor saw it and heard my mother gush further. I felt like a fraud because Mrs. H(e)art had made that painting work. I felt shame. And I never admitted the awful truth, until today, that the painting wasn’t mine.

The moral of this story is that one should never touch someone else’s work. It also helps clarify my feelings about the on-line class project--I feel like it isn’t mine because another artist’s hand has touched it (figuratively). I feel dissatisfaction because I didn’t come up with the methods, the style, and the colors. Will I take another class? Only in something that I cannot acquire by myself, something life-threatening such as glass blowing or welding.

       And yet, my class piece pleases me and I made a second one:

Since I can't show these embroideries as my own art, 

perhaps I’ll make a purse with them...

Smilin'

Despite gray skies, wind and rain, everyone's smilin' as new additions appear in the patio garden of the tranquil Province of MulticoloredPieces.

The variegated green tiles come from a box of left over tiles used in our kitchen decor over thirty years ago. I felt that the box had sat forgotten in a corner of the garden long enough.

If this should seem to be a repetitive use of green, I'd like to express my theory on plant containers. They exist to enhance plants, yet, the plants should enhance the pot as well. Plant and container should work together. And if possible, the container should be made of recycled materials. I've seen some marvelously colored pots, however, they didn't quite work with the plants. Eventually, I'll work in some soft blues and yellows, depending on the tiles I find. 
                  The steps going up to the roof could not remain unadorned.

And as there are enough tiles for a few more pots, 

I may make it to the top of the stairs.

                                               Another new arrival:

The lovely green tiles that have such depth of color came from the trash pile of an apartment complex where someone renovated their kitchen. 

I remember when the apartments were built some thirty-five years ago. The tiles were made in Spain. Such treasures!

And the bidet planter begins to look less like a bathroom fixture and more like an elegant patio accessory.

The Garden and Still Lifes

Many centuries ago when I was an eight-year-old kid in Boise, Idaho, I went to Mrs. Hart’s house for afternoon art lessons. This lovely artist with a warm smile and wispy white hair converted an upstairs bedroom into a classroom. To venture through the door into her large victorian home was to enter a secret world. When I peeked my head through the door, the smell of oil paints enveloped me. I caught glimpses of strange and mysterious forms in the darkened rooms as I climbed the stairs. Mrs. Hart (Heart, in my mind) set up still lifes with extravagant objects from what seemed like a never-ending exotic collection, items that delighted the eyes with their shapes, colors, and designs.

        And then sometimes, we would go out into her beautiful garden or to the local park to draw landscapes. However, still lifes give me the most pleasure, so they seemed appropriate to express my garden’s abundance. Here is the beginning of the “From My Garden” series: "Fruits from My Garden" (Feb. 1996, 25" x 34" / 64cm x 84cm) includes grapes, figs, pomegranates, and that very bizarre fruit, quince. 

I think of quinces as "wanna-be" apples, however, one could break a tooth on them, they're so hard.  They redeem themselves by the fact that they make delicious preserves.

For those interested in the technical aspect, this piece is machine appliquéd, embroidered and quilted and contains some hand painted fabrics. 
            Along the way, I revisited one of those early still lifes from Mrs Hart's class. The original watercolor:

And the art quilt version, "Oranges from My Garden"(Sept. 1996, 43"x38" /96cm x 1m09):

Like the previous piece, this one is machine appliquéd, embroidered, pieced, and quilted with some hand painted fabrics. Notice that I did have to add the handle to the kettle--as an adult, I just couldn't let that detail get away. Yet somehow, this visit to the past brought Mrs. "Heart" and some of the magical moments of childhood into my present.

                          And the orchard, with this late variety of oranges, 
                             provides even more inspiration for still lifes. 
                              Maybe I'll get back to landscapes as well....

Laurels and "Ce n'est pas mal"

It happened: blogland has bestowed its approval upon the improbable Province of MulticoloredPieces. I'd like to thank Carolynn at "Artsy Stuff " for her encouragement by including me in her choices for the Liebster Blog Award.  I've noticed that quite a number of bloggers have received this award, which is meant to encourage blogs with less than 200 followers. It reminds me of the old-fashioned chain letters. I calculate that eventually just about everyone will receive it, but that's not a bad thing.

The Rules (of course, this is entirely voluntary):

1. Thank the giver and link back to her/him.

2. Reveal your top 5 picks and leave a comment on their blog.

3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.

4. Have faith that your followers will spread the love too!

Obviously, this award helps generate blog activity and introduce people.  Personally, I would change number 4 to read something like this:

            4. Have faith that your followers will be interested in discovering 

                                the efforts and creativity of other bloggers.

Somehow, the word "love" (as a noun or a verb) serves so many purposes that it has become emptied of meaning. I confess that I also fall into the trap of the overuse of superlatives. I mean, don't you just love, love, LOVE this or that? We are now into the use of multiple superlatives emphasized with capitals, italics, colors, underlining, and bold font. What's next?

On the other hand, the French keep their perspective (unless things have changed radically in the last ten years): they say lightly: "O, ce n'est pas mal" (literally: "Oh, it's not bad") which can be translated as "Oh, that's very good" or, by today's standards, "Oh, that's wonderful!" So the French leave themselves someplace to go. They get in more meaning with less (not for the faint-of-heart, however) and avoid gushing. In fact, the French national hobby is to contest everything under the sun (which is why I enjoy France and the French), consequently, one may be thankful for "Ce n'est pas mal."

In any case, I would give an award to all the blogs I read (a rather substantial number), knowing the amount of work it takes to create and maintain a blog. And being barely able to post once a week, I respect all who manage to post more frequently. However, I suppose I must choose five...reluctantly... 

1. First of all, I would like to draw attention to Toefeather. She is a full-time art teacher and has committed to creating a patchwork block-a-day for a year. I stop by occasionally to cheer her on because her work/play is original and interesting and she keeps at it e-v-e-r-y d-a-y. She deserves a larger audience.

2. Then, there's Alaskan artist Susan Christensen at the Flying Dog Studio Design Wall. Not only are her paintings and sketches beautiful, but the photography of her part of the world (more or less the opposite of mine) always draws my attention. I especially like her textile artwork, which is often big and bold.

3. Sarah at Narcoleptic in a Cupboard always impresses me by the number of quilting projects she finishes despite her proneness to falling asleep. A tendency towards dry British wit makes her blog fun to read as well. 

4. I don't know many Spanish bloggers, but Lola at Quilts Improvisados puts on quite a show with distinctive and exciting quilt designs.

5. And, of course I must mention at least one French blog although the choice is difficult, so many good ones exist. Cécile Meraglia writes in French (Google Translator available) at Aventures Textiles, however, she is actually Belgian. Her felted, stitched, and crocheted artwork is exquisite.

I would like to mention an additional blog that does not qualify for this list because it has too many followers, but deserves recognition. Teri, an American, lives and works in Libya near Tripoli. She remained through the Libyan revolution with her family and tells about it. She continues to struggle to maintain family life and a semblance of normalcy, a difficult task at best under the circumstances. Fascinating to read--a reality check. Teri deserves a special award for courage.

              And yet, despite all the uncertainty, Spring appears clothed in 

                  colorful wildflowers and vibrant greens on certain days.

        Then the weather suddenly turns cloudy, rainy, and cold. Such is life    

                    in the improbable Province of MulticoloredPieces....

Mutiny!!!

The cat photos that were published in "Winter Garden, Part 1" created unrest in the tranquil Province of MulticoloredPieces. Those animals left out are unhappy and have demands. As this is the New Tunisia where protests are no longer illegal, the animals are exercising their rights. The cats have been whining endlessly and went on strike, refusing to go catch undesireable rodents.

The dogs threatened to block the road with burning tires, stop all passers-by, and hijack any trucks of milk and bottled gas—they would pay for the merchandise, of course, because they are not theives. However, after an open meeting held in the barn (to which all animals were invited—even a few of the neighbor's cows showed up), they decided to stage a sit-in instead.

They maintain that they want equal representation because they are part of the garden landscape and threatened to call in the Press. 

Indeed, a TV station considered showing these events on the evening news. The pigeons, partridges, sparrows and swallows have been on Twitter. Rumors abound on Facebook. In addition, the animals insist on a diplomatic visit from an American Senator, since Senator Lieberman came for the humans several weeks ago. 
                                              Ok, ok, I got it !

"Post-Revolution in My Garden" (30"x13"/77cm x 34cm),  hand and machine appliquéd, embroidered and quilted.

The gray background of this piece represents well the unusual damp, gray weather we've had since mid-December that parallels the political climate of Tunisia.

And HOW did my artistic strands of thought on War, Revolution, and Chaos creep into my peaceful garden theme?????

                                   And that’s life in the New Tunisia…. 

Unruly Utensils

The kitchen gets a lot of traffic. Few industrial or convenience foods appear on grocery shelves in Tunisia and if they exist, the price is prohibitive. This means that in any functioning household, someone must cook from scratch everyday, usually the mother. Every day. The good news: obesity problems do not plague Tunisian society and Tunisian cuisine is healthy.

       When I first arrived in Tunisia, my father-in-law would set off for market every morning with his empty basket and return home with fresh meat, fish, fruits, and vegetables that were in season. Every day. And my mother-in-law spent the morning in the kitchen preparing delicious main dishes, salads, and deserts for the day, enough for the family and any possible visitors that might appear at the door. Every day. All the recipes were in her head—no cookbooks. My husband says that those were the good ol’ days, and heaves a heavy sigh. I say he didn’t appreciate his mother’s good cooking when it was in front of him, but, such is human nature—we don’t appreciate what we have.

        Because it was the man’s job to fill up the basket for his family every day, there existed an unwritten code between vendors and shoppers—a sort of male code of honor. Produce is sold from crates and the shopper asks for the quantity needed and the vendor does the necessary choosing and weighing. My father-in-law never came home with so much as a rotten tomato because he knew the vendor and expected to be well served if the vendor wanted his (male) estime and future business. A good system—it worked.

       Then women began to take over the shopping duties and the vendors became sly, slipping in sub-standard produce. When I shop once a week, I go to vendors who allow me to pick out the produce. It’s a constant battle—no more honor code. Something has broken down. In addition, prices have risen steeply due to the chaos and uncertainty in the region. In the end, we are thankful that the produce remains available.

Cupboard door

       Back to the kitchen where I find myself every morning, cooking. Every day. I have stream-lined the process and have a set of recipes in my head. However, I require organization in the kitchen for things to go smoothly. This brings me to the subject of the unruly utensils. I could put them in a drawer, but then I would have to fish in the drawer every time I needed a wooden spoon or a ladle or some other item.

My solution: a pot painted to match the cupboards, which sits on the counter and keeps utensils upright and within easy reach. Recently, the bottom fell out of this 30-year-old pot, so I glued and cemented it back together. It didn’t look so great; it was worn.

So I mosaicked it. Of course, I could have drilled a hole in the bottom and planted it, but, those unruly utensils were driving me nuts!

A new life. I think the pot can go another 30 years. And order has been restored in my kitchen. Now if the current government could restore a semblance of order as well…