Guess it’s time to find some pins and start taking down all the squares on the wall…
Will the excitement never end? ;-) Now where are those big straight pins?
I looked at myself earlier: Black short-sleeved top. Red knit pants. Raspberry-colored socks.
Personally I had no problem with this combo. It reminded me of a particular outfit from my childhood. It was a beautiful pink organza pinafore. I always wanted to wear it over something really red, but I had been told “pink doesn’t go with red.” I hope I wore it anyway. I wonder what it originally was designed to go with?
From the Quote Box
It is not the critic who counts, not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. — Theodore Roosevelt
A few waves of big thunder, a few sprinkles of rain, a huge drop in temperature… the road out front is steaming with the rain. The light has changed and all those greens are popped.
Last night I stuck it out until all the rows and corner were filled in with brown squares. There’s always a change that happens when there’s nothing for your brain to fill in. It changes from what’s in my head being imagined to what’s there in actual fabric and cut up bits.
At this point, I like to look at it some. Could be a bit or a few days. Other than the obvious too-dark, too-light, too-repetitive areas, I wouldn’t be able to put what I’m looking at in particular.
It helps to squint at the whole deal to rule out value problems. I guess I try to look at the fabrics themselves. Occasionally I’ll miss some blotch of a dot because it’s tucked under another square. Those are usually pretty obvious when sewing them together.
I’ll always remember the lady at a Vermont Quilt Festival who pulled me over to my displayed quilt to tell me about how there was a mistake in it. I let her show me what she meant – a darker grey area in a quilt that was mostly blues and white. I agreed in my head that standing a foot away from the surface, the grey was too-dark looking.
The lady was quite adamant in her comments about my mistake and i couldn’t get her to walk away from the quilt to look at it a little further away. Nor was she interested in any idea of dark areas of clouds or skies.
When she left me there with the quilt, I looked at it awhile from close up. Then I went back to a normal viewing distance. The darker grey area receded into the rest of the quilt. From further away, it hardly showed at all, except as a variation of color and value.
What’s come to perfection perishes. / Things learned on earth, we shall practice in heaven. / Works done least rapidly, Art most cherishes.
