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The first thing I did this morning when I sat down on my studio floor to work on my collage was cut it into four pieces.

It was too big, there was too much space.

Then I spent the rest of the day working on the four pieces and three more pages in my Freedom Book, all at the same time.

But I mostly focused on one piece, working on it and reworking it.

When I sat down to write my blog post tonight (which I scrapped and replaced with this one), I had four unfinished collages drying on my floor.  I’ll admit I was a little frustrated at not having even come close to finishing one.

Then, in the middle of writing, I got up (I can’t even remember why) and within minutes I pulled together some of the pieces of the collage I had removed and cut up and attached them with matt medium to   the bright pink backing.

Before that I had been fussing with them for so long. Trying for some kind of perfection when all along what I needed was the immediacy that comes from not thinking, from imperfection.

When I looked at it I felt it. And I liked what I felt.

Don’t ask me to put words to it.  A title might come to me at some point, but for now, I just want to let it be.

Carol Conklin came to my studio today to give me some of her fabric that Jon bought for me.  I told her how I sometimes feel I don’t have the patience for collage.  I don’t remember exactly what she said, but she talked about the benefits of working quickly.

Some things take time when creating, but there are moments when there is magic in immediacy.

I feel like that’s what happened with this collage, when I put the pieces of it together as if it were a puzzle that knew what it was supposed to look like.

Last week, Jon and I watched Into Her Own  a film about sculptor Ursula Von Rydingsvard.  I was familiar with her sculpture but didn’t really know much about her or her work.

Her drive and ambition are inspiring.  Her monumental sculptures, which I had not seen before are somehow massive and elegant at the same time.  Her process is daunting.   She seems a straight forward, no-nonsense, and inclusive person.  I admire her very much.

One of the things that struck me was that she has used the same materials for years.  She works with 4″x4″ cedar and seems to be able to get it to do anything she wants.

It made me think of being focused and even limiting myself in my own work.  I do that naturally with my fiber art.  But working on the collages these past weeks has opened me up to so many possibilities.  Sometimes too many.  So I decided that for now, I would limit my subject matter to the imagery from my shadow photos.  That is: my shadow, the sheep, and dogs.

Today I practiced by working in my Freedom Book using predominately the sheep image in each collage.

I’m pretty happy with “Orange Sheep” (above) and think it’s done.

I think I may add something to Yellow Sheep (above) but I’m not sure yet, so I left it for today.

And I just began working on Blue Sheep (below).

I’ve used sheep in my work before, but there’s something about the combination of collage and the lines and shapes of the sheep that intrigues me.  As as I mentioned in my post about my piece “Integrated Self”  I’m beginning to see the importance of the sheep in my life not just for their wool, but as guides in my personal growth both practically and emotionally.

So why not in my art too.

Traditionally a familiar is an animal that assists a witch in her magic.  Thinking of my sheep as familiars feels right to me.

There seems to be something magical in the collage process which the sheep have emerged from.

Blue Sheep

I started working on two collages today.  One in my Freedom Book, the other on a piece of muslin.

The one above is the collage on muslin, it’s about 11×14″.  I thought I’d start with one image so began by drawing my red boots over and over again on the muslin in marker (I once again forgot to take a picture of it).  It’s an image I’ve used in my art since I began doing thread drawing when I got my free-motion sewing machine about 8 years ago.

After that,  I just let it go from there.  There’s more for me to do, but the photo below is as far as I got today….

I woke up thinking I would make some potholders today.  I even cleaned up the canvas and all the collage materials from my studio floor.  But then I looked at the piece of muslin that I stitched some images on yesterday.  I was inspired.  So I spread the canvas back out and dumped the box with all the markers and paints back on the floor.

I worked on two collages today.  One in my Freedom Book and the other on a piece of muslin about 18″x18″.

I took a shadow portrait of me holding a sleeve of hay while the sheep gathered around me this morning. That’s what made me think to use the simple outline of my head, neck, and shoulders.

I used some fabric but mostly a piece of tissue paper that Emily wrapped some of the collage supplies she sent me.  I felt like in making this piece I really understood how to use and the importance of tissue paper in collage making.  It has a particular translucency that works really well in certain situations.

As I made this piece I was thinking of the Chauvet Cave drawings.  So I repeated the same image of my bust again and again.  It’s a feeling and effect I’ve been thinking about for years but never could figure out how to get close to with the materials I was using.   In making this collage, I think I’ve found a way to achieve it.

I began my day by working on one of the collages in my Freedom Book.

Then, as I talked about in the video Jon took, I began working on a collage on a piece of muslin that I cut into three pieces each about  18″x18″.

I put a piece of canvas on my studio floor to work on.  I like working on the floor.  I started my first collage by drawing on the muslin with black marker.

The photo below is how it looks at the end of the day.  The last thing I did was some thread drawing with my free-motion sewing machine. I think it’s done, but I’ll look at it again tomorrow and see if it wants anything else.

I have no idea what these collages are about or even my thought process when making them.  They seem jam-packed to me like there’s so much going on.  It worries me a little that it’s a reflection of what’s going on in my brain.

But I haven’t been able to simplify them.   And maybe I don’t need to.

I wasn’t thinking about pockets as a symbol of rebellion and liberation when I started making the quilt for Linda.

It’s a Christmas gift for her friends and from what she told me about the couple I knew the quilt should be made with solid colors and plaids.  Looking through my shelves I found the dark blue fabric with the pockets and interesting stitching.

It was around that time I read the article in the The New Yorker by Hua Hsu about Hannah Carson’s book “Pockets: An Intimate History of How We Keep Things Close.“

Reading about the history of pockets was enough in itself, but I was also hoping to find something out about those stings with… well… pockets on them, that women used to wear under their long skirts. They had to reach under their skirts to access them.   Was that how pockets originated I wondered.

Turns out it was not.  Men had pockets long before women did.

What I learned is that starting in the 16th century  pockets were something that men had in their clothes and women didn’t.

It was thought that men had to have pockets because they were busy and important and needed to carry things often associated with their work.  But women were discouraged from working outside the home and so didn’t need pockets in their clothing.

Women carried small purses on their wrists called reticules that were just big enough to carry a few coins.  Carson writes, “The more women carried, the more freedom they had to act.”

Because pockets don’t only allow us to carry things, they let us hide things too.  Hsu writes that  in the late 1800s  US Legislators tried to ban back pockets on mens trousers because that is where they carried their guns.  These pockets were known as “pistol pockets.”

I had no idea pockets were so political.

In 1910 the “Suffragette Suit” was designed by women and boasted having “plenty of pockets.”

It’s still true today that most women clothes have less and smaller pockets than mens clothing and often have decorative pockets that don’t work at all.

I have those decorative pockets on the three pairs of skinny pants I bought at the thrift store two years ago.  Every time I wear them I still try to put my hand in my front pocket.

Which was something else I learned about pockets.  A  man putting his hands in his pocket was bad manners.

You know that famous picture of Walt Whitman with his hat jauntily placed on his head and his hand in his pocket, from his first publication of Leaves of Grass?  Whitman was widely criticized for it and loved the attention, even though he was seen as “rough, uncouth and vulgar.”

And later  James Dean did his famous pose with his thumbs hooked in pocket of his jeans.  We know only  “bad boys” did that.

We have progressed somewhat when it comes to clothing.   Some men now wear dresses and skirts and women wear pants without a second thought.

The pockets that inspired this quilt came from the Dickies Scrubs that Hannah gave me.  They were her favorite pants and when they wore out she sent what was left to me. (She has several more pairs that she wears all the time. They are comfortable and have plenty of pockets)

It was as much the pockets as the stitching around and on them that made me want to make a quilt out of them.   I framed each one of them as if they were an abstract drawing.  Then I joined them together with other sold colors and a little bit of plaid.

I will think about pockets differently from now on.  Maybe I’ll even collect “fake” pockets and make something out of them.

At least they’d be useful then.

I’d sit in the car, reading my email then get out and take a walk around the parking lot.  I’d go back to the car and do a drawing then take another walk.  I did this, again and again, reading on my iPhone in the warmth of the car, then taking a walk, the cold air leaking through my sweater, my legs and back happy to be moving.

I was waiting for Jon who was having his eyes checked.  An appointment that he keeps every three months, sometimes needing laser surgery.

Today there was no surgery although it still took hours to find this out.  So I had plenty of time waiting, to catch up on articles I’ve been saving and to find inspiration in my surroundings.

There are times that waiting can be unbearable.  And there are times when it can be a space when nothing is expected so it offers a kind of freedom.  Today fell somewhere between the two.