Now I'm home and have picked up the cat from the kennel (she will forgive me soon for her time in durance vile). I've sewed two more teddy bears and tomorrow I'll assemble them. More packing to do. And I'll post some photos of the beach, and of the teddy bears, in a few days. For now, just grateful for my sisters.
Just returned from a week in Tampa with my two sisters. We were celebrating Gee Gee's recovery from abdominal surgery, so it was a quiet visit. Not a lot of stamina just yet. We talked and reminisced and walked on the beach, ate lots of shrimp, admired the birds, picked up shells. I read a couple of novels on the Kindle. One of those times when just clustering with family is enough.
Now I'm home and have picked up the cat from the kennel (she will forgive me soon for her time in durance vile). I've sewed two more teddy bears and tomorrow I'll assemble them. More packing to do. And I'll post some photos of the beach, and of the teddy bears, in a few days. For now, just grateful for my sisters.
0 Comments
This ceramic grouping by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez just arrived a few days ago. I had been tracking it on its way from Oaxaca and was so relieved that all the pieces were intact. I don't know its name, but Carlomagno explained that the five elderly ladies in skeleton form represent the five centuries of Mexican history, the pregnant dog symbolizes the recent election (the social results of which are yet unknown), and the bouquet of flowers celebrates the beauties of the country. The ladies are seated on a wooden bench, seem to be chatting animatedly--who knows about what? I had them on display for a few days, but now have repacked them in anticipation of moving in the forseeable future. What fun it will be to decide where they'll sit in their new home! Carlomagno was only one of the well-known artists we met on our trip. Like all the others, he was eager to share his work and his pride in his country's art. We visited several families of woodcarvers in La Union Tejalapam one rainy day after exploring the impressive ruins at Monte Alban. These carvings were nothing like the ones seen in tourist shops--they are very strong with expressive faces and staring eyes, colored with brilliant inks. I was delighted to bring home the nativity scene pictured below. If you look closely, you can see that Jesus is bright yellow (takes after his mother) and has impressive sideburns. It seems to me a very friendly and comfortable nativity. The forms of these people relate directly back to the carvings at Monte Alban, with formal, direct posture. The colors, though, bring them right into your lap. We also met several families of potters near Ocotlan de Morelos and in San Antonino Castillo Velasco. These artists make vivid, interesting figures celebrating their culture. Guillermina and Josefina Aguilar paint their small pieces brightly: Vegetable vendor by Guillermina Aguilar She looks quite calm for someone who's balancing that enormous green pepper on her head. The splotchy white and red vegetaqbles are rabanos, large, inedible radishes that are carved into various images for parades and festivals on December 23. I came home just in love with all the color. Cannot wait to paint walls and trim in the new house. I think my fiber work may change also, but that will have to wait until I get more settled. For now, I need to pack fabrics into boxes and make some order out of the chaos in my studio. To satisfy the need to make something, I'm putting together teddy bears for the church bazaar. (They're not interested in my real art--they want stuff they can market.) I'll show photos of some of the weaving in a later post. It's Labor Day, and I'm reflecting on how things change. When I studied gerontology, the literature talked about aging "processes" and the types of changes typical at different periods during life. I got the feeling that the processes were like undersea currents, moving steadily and silently, unnoticed (mostly) by us on the surface. Occasionally you'd notice that your hair was greyer, perhaps, or that you had less energy than previously, or menopause finally seemed to be completed, or that you felt more (or less) guilty about past misdeeds or losses. I'm beginning to think, however, that the process is far more lumpy, that we wander from insight to insight without much sense of direction during the movement between. I don't think we pay much attention to direction until something different occurs, rather like driving down the freeway in mental "automatic" mode, doing all the correct driving things but a few minutes later you can't tell anyone what color the car was that you passed. Then the driver ahead puts on his brakes, and you jolt into alertness and note details.
And so it was, on the descent into Houston Intercontinental, when I realized vividly that (a) I really, really wished there were someone to meet me at the airport, and (b) that I needed to move closer to my family. I knew precisely what actions to take, thought about details on the drive home, slept on the decision, and then emailed my son asking him to set up an appointment with a real estate person to look at houses in his small town. Three days later we were looking, and the next day I made an offer that was accepted. Philip is very glad that I will be two blocks, rather than two hours away. His dear wife Kristi is the soul of hospitality and plans to introduce me to everybody within a 20 mile radius. They even have a kitten which can join Smudge and me once we're there. We have all the usual hoops to jump through in purchasing a house, but I don't anticipate major problems. There is a huge den that will become my studio, with its own wet bar and full bathroom. I've talked to a realtor here, planning to put this house on the market after closing on the new one. I've started packing books and giving some to the library. There are way too many books for any sane person. (I'll entertain argument about that statement from certain friends--just leave a comment. You know who you are.) I feel a real clarity about the decision--I guess the driver ahead has put on his brake lights. Really looking forward to decorating and rearranging in a new environment. Paint! floor tile! Take down the flocked wallpaper! Put in a million bookshelves! Fix the downspouts! So I probably won't do much fiber work for a while, but that's OK. There will be pictures later when things are more settled. For now, imagine many, many boxes of books piled up in the garage. Imagine Bobbe buying a dolly to move them around. They (the Great and Terrible They) say a person shouldn't make major decisions for a year after the death of a spouse, but all my instincts tell me to "pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." |
AuthorBobbe Shapiro Nolan, Fiber Artist in Eagle Lake, TX. Trying to learn to call the sewing room my studio, and myself an artist. I retired after 15 years in hospice nursing--so now I have the time!. Archives
July 2021
Categories |