aprons, underwear, layers

Earlier today I was reading my Nov/Dec issue of Selvedge, a second copy (new subscription, bought the first copy from Barnes & Noble.) And I was reading about Iwa i Walla, a Swedish purveyor of clothing in a very romantic, linen-y, layer-y vein. In the photos that accompany the article, I noticed that underneath all those scrumptious crinkled and worn-looking layers, there are undergarments so practical and yet romantic that they totally steal my focus -- three-quarter sleeved undershirts with an itty bitty lace trim, crinkled pantalons that reach half way down the calf and peep from under crinoline-like skirts, etc. I WANT real underwear! Especially in the winter -- I want layers of soft stuff between me and the world, the cold parching winds.

This made me think of my aprons.

I have lots of aprons -- forties, fifties, sixties aprons, mostly homemade, flour sack and cute motifs; breakfast aprons, filmy cocktail aprons, the works. I love them. But I don't own many dresses or skirts that I can wear with them, because that's just not where affordable fashion goes these days -- and, I confess I've never sewn a skirt, or any item of clothing. Just quilts, bags, artworks. But I'd better learn. We had a pancake breakfast fundraiser for church yesterday, and I wore one of my aprons. I also brought a handful of them to share for the event, which were quickly snatched up.

I think I could design things easily enough -- I've never followed a pattern for bags etc, I just figure out how they should be made and then put them together. But I don't know the tricks -- darts n things -- so I need someone to show me. That's how I learn best. There's a local place that's perpetually offering classes on basic skirt making, and I should get off my scaredy-cat butt and take one.

Oh, aprons -- feminine layers. I'm not all that prone to frills or push-up bras; but I think aprons and underwear can be both history-laden and sexy, narrative and practical. I have some unsatisfying shots of the aprons, which I won't post yet. But soon. It's another theme...

The moon looked just like this last night. Thin like a nail paring, antiqued, already setting in a winter haze as I stood on the hill at the bus stop, 6pm. New moon, new beginnings.

the in-between times

Ah the fickle muse.
What have I made in the past few months? Well, there were those Bible-book-bags in October; and the workshop with the Confirmation kids, making their stoles. Over Christmas break I prepped a quilt-block project for my son's kindergarten class which includes fusible iron-together blocks and worksheets on contrast (a family project for the kids, this, but when we're all done the blocks will be tied together to form a large quilt. Later we'll untie them, and the kids will bring their blocks home.) In and around these little projects I've done some work on the birdnests/moonlight piece; but I'm stalled out again on that one, wondering what the central focal point should ultimately become. Stacked with two other art-quilts-in-progress, here in the sewing room, while books and mail pile up on the sewing table. Hmm.

Work has been a major distraction. The job. And a desire for more sleep to offset some stress. But it's all still percolating slowly, deep inside, and by keeping my hand in I know my time will come again. Wrapped up the year of book arts round-robin and haven't started a new altered book yet...trickle trickle trickle, the modest watering of my creative landscape by my fickle muse. What happens next?

At some point this year, it appears I'll have to opportunity to establish an artspace for the community in the brand new community center my church is preparing to build. But that will happen in the context of many other changes, and much work. Where will the energy come from?