This is the year the youngest turns 21. We’re in the midst of planning his birthday trip to celebrate. However, his girlfriend, who we love to pieces, beat him to that milestone. In fact, she kicked off this Labor Day weekend with birthday cookies and legal fun. When the realization set in that this was the year the children wouldn’t be children any longer (at least in terms of age), I knew it was important to mark the celebration with something out of the ordinary.
Combining her favorite elephants with the symbols of her sorority and her school colors, 21 Elephants came to life. She tells me she loves it.
In lieu of a poem, the label for this piece was used for a birthday message.
21 Elephants
21 ElephantsThese elephants come in assorted colorsThis elephant is one to grow onA birthday message
Next up: An experimental piece to practice technique.
My Grandpa Gene was my favorite. Just as parents aren’t supposed to have favorite children, I suppose children shouldn’t have favorite grandparents. But I did.
I loved all my grandparents. I still do, very much, but Grandpa Gene is the one who I remember with the most clarity, the memories vibrant and vivid and bright.
Gene was a big man, with large hands and feet, and a gruff demeanor; a gentle giant with his tiny wife and daughter, and his two tinier grandchildren. He made large pots of chili, loved to fish and hunt and watch football. He smoked Parliaments and read dirty joke books in the bathroom off the kitchen. He managed a cold storage in our town, he served as a fireman and an alderman. He gave me a Jolly Green Giant doll he received from the Green Giant people.
I wish I still had that doll. It smelled like him.
This big man would allow my brother and I to climb in his lap. We would lay across the arms of the armchair in the den, and he would rub our backs with one large hand. No masseuse can compete with those back rubs.
When I was ten, he died. He had just turned seventy.
Grandpa Gene was one of six relatives we lost over the course of a year and a half. My Grandma Clark was another (see her quilt here). His was the first funeral I attended. The monsignor told funny stories in the eulogy. I sat with my parents and my Nonie in the front pew on the right side of the aisle in St. Patrick’s Church, awash in tears, baffled and offended that anyone could find anything funny about the loss of Grandpa Gene.
It has been almost forty years since Grandpa Gene left us and there is still nothing funny about this loss. I wept then. I weep today.
His color was blue. That seems fitting. My tears are blue too.
Fabric choicesThe canvasA vast sea of blueFishes swimming in the vast sea
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Is there someone you’ve lost for whom you still grieve, even though it’s been decades?
I’ve mentioned in previous posts for this series that, while working on Any Color’s All Right As Long As It’s Red, in honor of my Grandpa Clark, I realized Red (for Basil) was the first in a series for my grandparents.
This third honors my paternal grandmother, Neska, who loved purple. She wore it in dresses and hats, brooches and shoes. I believe she would have had purple carpets, drapes, and even walls if my Grandpa had been willing.
Neska passed away when I was 10 or 11, during a time when our family lost several loved ones. I wish my memories were stronger, but those I do have are of a woman who loved her children and grandchildren. She called each of us Pet and gave the best Grandma kisses. My grandfather adored her, this woman who worked as a nurse before they married in the ‘20s. She was strong and sweet and loving.
While working on this piece of art for her, I realized the memory, of how much she loved us all, is the only one I really need.
The paletteThe canvasThe top…the hearts, kisses, and other items have been fused and the quilt sandwich made
Quilting is underway. Check back in a week or two to see how Purple turns out.
While I was working on “Any Color’s All Right As Long As It’s Red” in honor of my Grandpa Clark, I realized Red was the first in a series for my grandparents. After a little digging through my parent’s and my own memory banks, favorite colors were recalled so the work could begin.
My maternal grandmother, Lucille, loved green. The carpets in the three houses I remember her living in were always some shade of her favorite color. She was an independent, strong, and stubborn woman — I’ve inherited all of that from her and couldn’t be more pleased. My brother and I were her only grandchildren, so she doted on us, taking us camping in her Airstream trailer to Paraiso Hot Springs. The scent of eucalyptus reminds me of those trips.
I remember her letting herself into our house, a dozen Winchell’s donuts in hand. “I can’t stay; I brought these for the kids,” she’d say as she dropped the box on the kitchen counter, one heel already turned to dart back out the door to run her errands or attend Altar Society meetings or visit with friends.
She also loved music. Or more correctly, loved musical instruments. She owned a baby grand piano, an organ, a violin, an accordion, a flute, and probably a couple more. I faintly recall a guitar. Probably not a Les Paul, though.
Lucille passed away when I was 25. She was the last remaining grandparent and the one most active in our lives. I hope she can see the field of green I’m creating for her.
A field of greenI can see her playing the piano…
Come back in a couple of weeks to see how the quilting is coming along.
This homage quilt to my paternal Grandfather could have been finished in a week if I didn’t have a day job. 🙂
However, because, like everyone, I have bills to pay and I prefer eating to starving, off to work I go. I’ve mentioned I changed jobs in November; the requirements and obligations of taking on a new role are such that the time to balance my life with creativity has been diminished. I’m working on getting that balance back.
In the meantime, I did finish Any Color’s All Right As Long As It’s Red (for Basil). I think it’s my best art work yet (and that’s saying something because I’m pretty hard on myself). Primarily pieced and fused, it’s the little extras like lettered beads to spell “transmugliforcandanbumshamity” and a scanned copy of the famous Basil that make this art quilt pop. I kept the quilting to a minimum and think I’ve found a style that represents my voice.
The first in four panels honoring my grandparentsMinimal quilting. This piece didn’t need the density.The beads spell “transmugliforcandanbumshamity”, Grandpa’s invented word.The whales look 3D to me.Poem labelGrandpa Clark
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Any Color’s All Right As Long As It’s Green (for Lucille) is up next.