Sewn (reblog)

I dabble in photography and this blog i share (see link below) always satisfies when read, with varying ways photos impact. Click link to see work displayed. This particular post is especially drawn to me as a quilter, lover of fabric and the process of piecing together lives.

“For over a decade, Sewn has taken shape from altered, chopped, merged, and recomposed photographs. …

By engaging with the photography in this way, I create work that deals with the notions of truth in photography and its impact on identity. Using family photographs and those from my family’s past albums as material for the work, the resulting imagery tells a “new truth” with reimagined memories, situations, and experiences.”
— Read on photolicioux.wordpress.com/2018/06/20/sewn/

Thursday Doors – January 18, 2018

Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors

I am amazed at the number of door lovers!!! This infatuation reminds me when I was contemplating names for my first child. No one had named their child Emily in ages, and wanting a unique name along with a poetic significance, I declared my first born child to be Emily. And for ten years after, Emily was the #1 name in the United States. The name remains popular but not to the extent it was from 1990-2000.

These are pretty average doors. And a window. Right?

Perhaps. They mean a tremendous amount to me. They house numerous family stories. This room was once my daughter’s bedroom until she went to college, then moved to Boston, whereupon it became my writing room filled to the brim with my words, thoughts and ideas for future words and thoughts. And paints, fabrics, cameras, and color.

Now it is emptied of me and awaits a new history. I think I will leave a token of appreciation for the new residents… Maybe a new blogger will move in and share their space with us?

*The color of the walls is Sherwin Williams Anew Gray and the flooring is Spiced Oak. All brand new for a future family.

Teeth. Dig In.

Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing. Dali

Plans change. We say one thing and do another. Does that make us hypocrites? Liars? We strive and fail. Damned fools? Or simply tired?

Today, there are no planned adventures until after 2pm (US Eastern Time), where upon we will venture out to St. Petersburg to visit the largest collection of Salvador Dali’s art, outside of Spain.

I don’t do drugs. I am drugs. Dali

Yesterday was a visit to see my Aunt Jeani, Uncle Don, and first, second and now third cousins, in Venice FL. We have not seen each other in 43 years. Last time we visited my cousin Stevie was 12, Tammi 6. My aunt and uncle struck oil in the 1960’s, on their farm in Illinois, and the family took off for California, finally settling in Florida, where they set-up a halfway house for homeless and drug abusers. My aunt and uncle have saved countless people from themselves. And now Tammi is ordained and carries on the halfway home. Some of the patients end back on the street, but those who are determined, find new life, and a reason to live. We had lots to celebrate over a wonderful meal.

What is our life calling? To save ourselves or find life’s oft hidden truths saving others?

Visiting often means reminiscing. My cousin Tammy told us as kids her and Stevie and Sherry would fill buckets full of shark teeth at Venice’s beaches. With hugs and kisses goodbye, after a too short of a visit, our family headed to Caspersan Beach to search for shark teeth.

Our arrival greeted us with a painted shoreline lined with eager seekers. Not a gold rush but a rush to unearth something that is now rarer to find. A storied shark tooth. Every one with me gave up rather quickly, except my oldest daughter.

There was no guarantee her or I would find a tooth. In all those grains of sand, time passes, and often hope of fulfillment. The picture above is my determination paying off.

I wrestled with my husband, son and youngest daughter wanting to leave. But i stuck it out, digging my feet in deeper. It was the turning over that brought up the tooth.

Each of us is worn ragged. Thoughts lodged in crags. The rocks jutting into and between the lines of our existence. Who wins out in the end?

I have no scars to prove yesterday happened. I possess a tooth and a prayer to survive.

Happy writing, J🦈Still Life Fish with Red Bowl Dali<<<<
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Swim Against the Waves

For my lovely daughter. Always. And Forever.

Wow! Yesterday was quite eventful. Not in a good way either.

There is a back story to this story that unfolded shortly after breakfast. I was busy writing Christmas greetings to family and friends, realizing how few cards we had received this year. The amount of personal greetings slashed by modern life.

When, to my surprise, my daughter came bounding down the stairs, so early in the morning.  It is Christmas break from studies so this was most unexpected.

I despise Snapchat. Instagram. Even Facebook has become a weapon against humanity. They had assaulted my daughter again. Naked photos of themselves. Asking her to send in like.

She had never wanted to fight back. She is a teenager and teenagers do not always think so well. Hormones and all. But she had been attacked too many times to lay down her sword. She picked it up and I stood with her. I picked my sword up too.

I made a phone call to the school. I needed to speak to someone. Was any one going to listen? Really hear me and my daughter? Do something to change how we interact.

There seems a hollow cry in our schools, churches, government, to stop bullying, assaults, sexual victimization against each other.  People talk loud and do little. They stand up strong and bend with the wind.

Sex is a beautiful gift. Meant to be protected by love and care and understanding. Not a quick fix to fill a void. Not a solution to calm the raging inner world. Who even believes that anymore? Anyone?

So the Dean of Students and the Assistant Principal sat there and listened. Their advice quite trite, get off social media. What? She wants to make friends. Be a friend. Why should she not fight back and change the landscape of abuse? Why do the good people need to retreat and lay down their swords?

As we exited school property, two police officers pulled up. Our schools are now protected by officers of the law. What little law is up held. We are flying free in the streets, rioting and not caring of the girl, weeping in the night. Now afraid to be a friend to the world.

My daughter has recently turned 18 but she was made an adult before she had a chance to be a kid. So it is with modern society. It has become an adult before it ever figured out how to be.

Journal April 2, 2013

“Never move faster than the wind.” 4/2/2013

Sage advice to myself or just random thoughts scribbled down with no real meaning.  Today I think I could use a gush of wind to get me moving from this chair, typing away, thinking all the way back to March 1, 2008 and even beyond that to a great, great, great grandfather buried in Russiaville, IN, after dying in the War of 1812.  Did his actions make me who I am today?  And what about his father and the fathers before him? (Gregg and his wife, Frances, are buried in Russiaville Cemetery and I plan to get there soon to take pictures.  His wife’s stone only remains but his name is inscribed on it.)

Our family history is interwoven in the fabric of America, but even before that our family origins span England, Ireland, Finland and who knows where else.  People are travelers and most of us have a bit of differing culture dwelling in our genes.  What impact does any of this have on me? Us?

I have a great, great grandmother who befriended Black Hawk (aka Black Hawk War), in the Kickapoo Valley of Wisconsin.  The story goes that Black Hawk was roaming in the woods and in need of food and shelter for the night.  My great, great grandmother invited him in for dinner and a restful sleep.  She was a widow with children but took it upon herself, practicing her Christian beliefs, to help the unfortunate.  I take pride in this story.  She did what little she could do to provide sacrificially.  She was a strong woman surviving in the wilderness.

These stories give me a sense of humanity at the best and the worst.  War is inevitable but so is compassion.  I wonder where I would be had America never become who she is today? Family from Finland might never have reached the shores.  I just might never have existed.

Find time

When all you have is time

what keeps you from giving time

all you have?


I am a “modern quilter”. I learned how to hand-stitch traditional blocks but have ventured into my own fabric expression, the wildflower i am. 


My next project is a depiction of my daughter via Picasso inspiration and the mention of her considering adding blue highlights to her long, dark hair. 

A piece of her 3rd grade art, the background of the quilt, chose the fabric colors for the piece. (Yeah, my fabric yardage whittles away, slowly.)

To get back to my question, I will tell you what is keeping me from giving quilting time, myself. I have so many projects brewing. I’m dabbling in producing a mixed-media soul journal, I have tons of pinterest pins standing by to help with that, not to mention my “Promise Garden” where the weeds have taken advantage of the rain. Then there is the problem of loved ones who have rumbly tummies. (Thanks Pooh!) 

So my fabric sits idly by.

I love the colors. Ooooh orange! Yes, I am a fabric-scrap junkie. Gazing at the materials gives me goosebumps. 

Happy quilting, writing, mixed-media journaling, gardening, cooking…. I’m tired. Sorta! 🙂 

time ago

Hamlet. He asked “to be
or not to be”. Inspiration
for countless others. Tragic
that role model. Hero?

And then Thursday
rolled in
storm clouds boiling over.

There have been two suicides in my family. Both impacted me deeply. Too deeply.

Then Thursday rolled in
and the rain
started falling. The lighting
and thunder were not far
behind. Sudden. Shock.

News is only
good when you smile.
The house is cold
lately. Staring off
in the distance, numb
to the sound of birds.
Spring approaches
and with it grief.

Winter never leaves the crushed soul. Earth gives no relief to the burdened heart.

Thursday rolled in
again
another year to be
in the midst of rain.
Fog descends
the sun burning off
what remains.
My heart trembles
the positive thoughts
are manufactured.
Anger
at God
with questions of why.

Why?

Identity

Restless mind
thoughts standing bold before the queen.
Dare scatter the sharp-sheathed seeds?

Zealous lyrics stretching into the dark corners.
Songs ringing through the kingdom.
Freedom exists for those who dare.

A brave soul!
Rare
as a bird’s treasured feathers.

Connections

Wretched days and shameful nights
forgiveness alludes
the family whose wounds
speak to a weary clouded sky.
Child accused for all the wrong
with dad and mom and home
not acknowledging the aching
lips she keeps shut tight.
Oh save us, the child cries
scared to move at night
the beasts in the window
screaming a great fright.
No one comes to save
images prepare to fade
if only the day would
send some grace for these endless wretched ways.

Mirrored Reflection

I have been listening to conversations. What would others think of the words you speak? Imagine the reflection you mirror.

Two  friends spoke, or rather gossiped together over coffee, “She only works part-time now that she quit her other job.” The other replied, “Really?! Why would she do that? She had such a great job.” “For her kids.”

Life is fleeting. Our values belong in our heart, safe from ravenous wolves. All we take from this life is the love of family and joy from loyal friends.

“Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.” Matthew 7:15

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”   Eleanor Roosevelt

What will be your heritage? Seek and travel the chosen road.©