Archive for the ‘art’ Category

FIBER

Tuesday, May 8th, 2012

I know. I KNOW, DAMMIT.

This fiber thing has gotten fully out of control.

Whatever.

You heard that right. I’ll say it.

What – to the – ever.

At least I can admit to being powerless against fibers. Fully powerless. Power – to the – less.

I’m turning into such a cliche since we all know this story: girl goes on eBay, girl searches for textiles, girl stumbles on a listing for a “Southwest Tapestry Weaving”, girl bids a couple dollars and one day a box shows up full of fiber art. The end.

I wasn’t even trying to find this thing. I was being good! I was just looking for rugs or maybe blankets? It’s all such a blur.

That pusher eBay just waved it this in my face and I gave in to the temptation and now it looks like the kitchen has a shaggy addition. What was I supposed to do? What could any person do? Show restraint and NOT buy old weird woven wall hangings via internet auctions?

I’m not made of that kind of steely discipline. I’m a human being.

This is the last time. The. Last. Time.

It has to be. I’m running out of wall space.

On the plus side, this stringy minx looks uncannily like the one and only ultimate piece of fiber art. See that? My new little fiber could easily be mistaken for a younger and more naive version of that massive beauty. Like that one birthed a wee fiber baby? Oh, yeah. Total fiber baby.

During a recent visit to the Ace I created some indisputable Instagram evidence to drive the point home.

Try and dispute that.

You can’t. That incredible evidence is beyond dispute.

 

FIBERS.

 

I so need to find a new thing to hoard.

 

FIBERS

Monday, February 27th, 2012

BOOM.

Suck on that.

Dreams do come true.

So much fiber-y art has entered my life recently that it’s like a Cinderella story made of dusty yarn from the 70′s. Beautifully lush stringy old yarn.

With the loss of its chandelier, the dining room has been going through a slow transformation that includes – obviously – new lighting and just maybe a new dining table? Possibly thinking about going for some custom style action? ‘Cause I’m fancy? Or super picky? Or whatever.

Yuppers. Big dining room redo. Eventually.

Till then, this gigantically glorious wall hanging will have to hold down the fort.

Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll.

Tell me you didn’t think this was the only fiber art wall hanging thing happening around here?

No. Way.

Because when I get obsessed, I get obsessed. Perhaps you noticed that little ‘s’ in the post title?

DOUBLE BOOM.

In your face.

It’s like this thing is so crazy good that the frame can’t handle it! Not at all! Stupid frame!

All that beauty is overflowing with goodness. Jute-y ropey goodness.

Try to ignore the messy bed and that seemingly new ‘rug’ like rug on the floor. I’m apparently such a busy lady that I can’t be bothered to make my bed for photos or discuss this ‘rug’ situation. But don’t you fret lover, that ‘rug’ will be covered in a forthcoming post.

For now?

NO distractions from the fibers.

With these two transcendent works of aesthetic textile-ish glory installed in the dining room and the guest bedroom alike, I believe we’ve finally reached the limit of fiber art the house can safely hold. No, wait, I’m wrong. There’s still that Don Freedman piece, which now lives in the kitchen and that other simple weaving in the hall. But who’s counting? Not you.

Don’t count them.

Just. Don’t.

So. Provenance? AKA, where did these come from?

The dining room behemoth was once owned by all around super nice person Kathleen Ryan, who emailed me a few photos after reading about the great fiber search. Of course I fell instantly in love and we then worked out a mutually beneficial trade. By the way, trading vintage stuff is probably my favorite thing in the world to do. I can happily deaccession something I no longer have space for while someone else gets to do the same. Win win!

The guest bedroom’s sassy ropey weaving was found some time back during a trip to Palm Springs. We went out for a little shopping fun and stumbled on this baby at a consignment shop in Cathedral City. I grabbed that sucker off the wall and never looked back.

 

FIBERS!

 

BRUTAL

Monday, January 23rd, 2012

Just got back from Alt Summit, where weather and snow are apparently allowed to happen. Not cool, Utah. Not cool.

I’ll spare you any girly bloggy wrap-ups for now, but just you wait. If I had taken more pictures besides a slew of ‘hold on, wait? is this fucking snow? Is it SNOWING? What?! Why don’t I have a scarf’ shots, there would be so much more blogging happening.

But it snowed.

I was offended.

How dare you, weather.

Nothing was so brutal in Utah as this bit of brutalist wall sculpture waiting for me back home in the desert.

Not even frozen rain.

Even Bowie was offended when I relayed the sudden brutal conditions that I suffered through by relaxing in a hot tub and drinking a glass of whiskey. Life is brutal. Well, brutal in Utah where girls must wander to the state run liquor store and cleverly disguise whiskey at the hotel pool.

Fooled you, Salt Lake.

And yes, I still need to address fixing up the fireplace with a wood mantel and new coat of white paint and plant life and so on, but I am exhausted. There was a lot of meeting of folks and great roommates and talking on panels and parties and other amazing things that went down that now my little introverted heart needs sleep.

Glad to come home to this one thing solved. Feels good to finally find something like art for above the mantel.

BOOM.