Saturday, August 8, 2015

Sat. night in Florida

Still in recovery mode from 5 teen boys ages 14-18 here in the condo at the beach.  The one who isn't a grandson was given permission by his mother and my daughter to fly down with the grands from Grand Forks, N.D.   He is 15 and had never seen the ocean.  Violating all kinds of boundaries by not clearing it with us, but in the end it turned out OK.  Smelly shoes, wet towels, air mattresses, and many, many trips to the grocery store.  No one got sunburned, someone lent us boogie boards (small surfboards.)  They are now living in South Carolina.  But DD and DSIL and the older 2 will be back next weekend with a rented U-Haul truck for some free furniture from another relative.
If you haven't read the other board, I asked a question about cotton flannel as batting for a quilt.
Please let me know what you think.
Going to bed, as still sleep deprived.
Sara in Fla.

Friday, August 7, 2015

The death of Marat painting

Painted in 1793 by Jacques Louis David of his friend and publisher Marat during the French Revolution.  He was a fiery orator and was assassinated in his bathtub (he had a serious skin condition) where he soaked for hours on end, by a young royalist whom he had agreed to meet in his apt.  This is the image I took for the broken child which represents all the children massacred in schools.

From the World Quilt Exhibits, 2014/5

In this year, 2013, this quilt asks the question “is the 2nd Amendment useful in to-day’s society” and is the “right to bear arms” being taken out of context from its original intent of over two hundred years ago? 

Reflecting on the horrific events of Sandy Hook Elementary School and other educational institutions involving the misuse of firearms and mental illness, this hand-appliquéd, hand-embroidered 100% cotton quilt, with its soft, slightly variegated blue organic, natural plant-dyed background focuses on the Statue of Liberty representing not only liberty but freedom from oppression.  Holding her torch of fire high, in itself a symbol of knowledge and enlightenment, she is superimposed upon the Great Seal of the United States.  With its eagles wings outstretched, the Seal represents a nation’s independence and hope for the future.  In sorrow, Liberty looks down upon the dying child at her feet.  The child, broken into pieces, is inspired by the painting of the Death of Marat, 1793, by Jacques-Louis David, as a tribute to his friend, Marat who was betrayed and killed at the height of the French Revolution.  The Fallen Child represents all who have died in the school shootings photo-transferred on the front of Marat’s desk.  

This quilt is my tribute to all who died at Sandy Hook and to their families.  As a Canadian, I feel no less the grief that Americans have felt with these massacres.  In a land where freedom is so cherished, that same freedom has also allowed for such devastation and destruction in people’s lives.
Sandra Small Proudfoot © 2013,
In collaboration with long-arm quilter, Mary Light, Canada
The front of Marat's desk lists all the schools where massacres occurred.  Although Canadian, I support through donation to the Sandy Hook Promise.  The 2nd Amendment is embroidered around the edge of the wallquilt.  Mary Light's longarm quilting skills are beyond anything I could imagine doing by hand.  I take the artist's statement to her and from there, she devises her own designwork in machine quilting.  I am a traditionalist by nature but I have nothing but admiration for Mary's work.  She is a very talented woman.
It is the middle of the night, I've been having respiratory issues which woke me up.  I've inhaled too many chemicals from textiles via a hot steam iron over the years and have a weakness there now.


Sunday, August 2, 2015

Butterfly Boxes

I hope others have input into Pat Seal's question as to how to stimulate yourself as a quilters when you hit a dry spot in your creativity.  I was surprised when it happened to me after many years of quilting, teaching, designing, etc.  We sometimes need to kickstart ourselves somehow.

As some know, I run a Bed & Breakfast here in the country and have done so for 24 years.  This year, the Pan Am Equestrian events were held in our area and I've just come off two weeks of steady bookings, with one night off.  Last week, I had another one other night off and tonight, a night off.  I'm trying to keep my quiltwork going throughout the season, which I normally have not done in the past but getting back into my work after my season is over late October has become increasingly difficult to refocus on my work.  So this year, I decided I would work right through the season, which starts around the end of May.  I need my dining room table to serve B&B guests and it is also my work and design table so I need the space in order to do my quiltwork.  This has nothing really to do with butterfly boxes except that on Friday, a half hour after my week-end guests had checked in, himself opened the sliding glass door in the kitchen to greet another of his retired Air Canada pilot friends, Walter.  For some reason pilots operate better in the air than they do on the ground.  Himself is unaware of the fact that a dog or two is just waiting for that door to open.  Now, Meg, three, is untrustworthy off-leash and of course, she is the one who flew out the door.  Himself, still not concerned, greeting Walter, was not overly connected to the fact of what had happened.  I fortunately came into the kitchen as this was all going on and grabbed one of Jean's Mill Bay dog bisquits and tore out after Meg, calling for her.  Now, I'd like to think the guests were not witnessing me frantically racing around like a demented fool with a dog bisquit, waving my hand with Meg having nothing to do with me.  After several minutes I managed to corner Meg, get her leashed and at the same time, was distracted by Walter, who had brought over his late wife's incredible collection of butterflies that she had brought home years ago from southern Germany.  Set in glass boxes, as the above, five boxes sat in his car and while I was chasing Meg he was trying to get my attention to help him solve 'what to do with Marianne's butterflies'.  Once Meg was put back into the house, I looked at the beautiful butterflies, all mounted carefully in five glass boxes.  This was about 4 pm on Friday afternoon, heading into a long week-end.  The only place I could think of taking them into town was our public library.  I had the boxes piled into my SUV, hopped in while Walter was telling me PETA would be after him no doubt and raced into town thinking:  I can't have a nervous breakdown; I can't have a nervous breakdown.  Guests upstairs getting ready for their son's wedding rehearsal, a dog loose, Walter flapping around about these butterfly boxes, I landed into the library 15 minutes later and managed to catch the one person whom I'd hoped to leave them with.  Placing the boxes on the counter at the library, people gathered around exclaiming over their beauty.  They will go on display there at some point in time.  What the future holds for the boxes, I don't know.  The butterflies are gorgeous, regardless of what PETA may think.  I drove home thinking I have to calm down, I have a week-end's work ahead of me and get home to find that Walter has driven his Jeep over my flower barrel backing out of the driveway.  Sixty dollars plus will replace it.  Walter is an accident waiting to happen; nearly 80 years old this year, Walter drives around on a motorcycle half the time and half the time running into the police giving him a ticket for driving too fast or having an argument with a little old lady driver who wouldn't get out of the passing lane so he could pass her.  That resulted in Walter dropping his motorcycle on his ankle, breaking it and me having to pick him up at emerg. with a cast on his foot.  He swore the old lady did it to him on purpose.  Like I said, I think pilots are better in the air than on the ground and meanwhile, I'm recovering my equilibrium trying to work on my next quilt project.  I have one day, then the table goes back to being a B&B breakfast table.
Rosey (aka Sandy Small Proudfoot in Canada)