luxe

so. i set my phone to wake me up early, and well…yeah. um. didn’t get up early. i am so bad in the morning. i did get up and returned some phone calls before getting to work organizing the studio a bit more and mostly trying to figure out what fiber and yarns were listed already and what was just sitting there. lots. i didn’t even list all of it, but there is a lot of stuff there and more yarns to come. lots. sock yarns as well as some worsted and artyarns. really good. i got this pop up mesh laundry basket thingy that has 3 compartments, so i was able to put lots of things in there in a moderately organized manner, as much as yarn and fiber can be. i was glad. more of that to-morrow.

i was just checking emails and comments on the newest softie i posted (several more of those to come, too) and was thinking about how i do my work. with the softies, i start with a yarn. make a shape, see where it goes. stuff it. see who it wants to be and just build it up from there. when i made the pirate zombie thingy, it was more preconceived toy than i make and my heart wasn’t in it. i felt kind of boxed in. and as i like to say, i don’t like to be told what to do…even by myself. so there, me! you shut up! in art, i feel similarly, like the work sort of forms itself. i have a hard time accepting compliments because i feel like they are their own entity and kind of just…showed up. like it someone tells me that peeps is really pretty…yeah, she is, but it is more a compliment to her than to me. i didn’t make her.

so, i just discovered the plushteam.com blog and this posting by the toy designer flying star toys which is in australia(r) anyway, she made this comment

“The soul of a toy is the most important ingredient, my art is just this. The little beings should look gently at you as if they had always existed and you have just happened upon them.

okay, mine don’t always look gently at you, they often…snarl, but still, i tend to agree with her. her things are very sweet.

the thing that is so exciting to me about making and selling things is how they speak to people. and often, it has a meaning that you never intended, but it doesn’t matter. i made life sized and bigger ceramic busts with different themes in school and i had one that had a jagged hole cut into its stomach and branches for arms. the woman who bought it had survived uterine cancer. she believed it was made for her. in another direction, i made this dwarf abominable polar bear:

and the woman who is getting him called him the “po’d polar bear” and thought he looked like her. mainly, i thought that he was trying to act mean and scary because he is only 6 inches tall and usually polar bears are…bigger. so he is doing his best. and he is super soft. and fuzzy. and..cute. i said it. even his little purple nipples and belly button. cute! i haven’t interviewed him for his story yet, though.

when i still tattooed, i found that people were stupid. they didn’t take any time to look at anything or process it. i worried that it would be the same with the artsy and craftsy stuff. it isn’t. people really absorb it, think about it, touch it, remember it. how is it that you people are able to put so much consideration into such tiny details and comprehend them (armpit hair? knees?) but others are willing to get a tattoo on their skin and don’t realize it is misspelled. among other things. odd, no? we put more effort into adding embroidery than most people do in their whole day. now the snob comes out. well. in a way. in another way, it goes in a direction that many artsy/craftsy decidedly non-snobs would (joseph beuys and frida kahlo, to name a few) who believed that art is for everybody. you can make sure to notice those little things, to make sure you have beauty in your life, whether it be a flower in your hair, or a pretty piece of china or some soft and gorgeous hand knitted socks. all of it. that is what life is about really, isn’t it?

i wish i could absorb more. i wish i could notice every detail. i wish i could see the sun come up and go down. see flowers open for the day and close for the night. i want to remember to remember. and you know what? i want all of you to, as well.

when i was younger…i was miserable. life sucked. it did. i didn’t realize until i was in my late twenties that i was in control of my own life. seriously. i know. sad. when people say “i wish i knew then what i know now…” yeah. i know what they mean. i can only do my best to enjoy it all now. i let myself miss out on lots of life, and i can’t blame anyone but myself. i am a bit of a slow learner. okay, really really slow.

so, after a bout of being too exhausted to do…anything (and i mean that. i didn’t knit, spin, read, talk on the phone, nothing) i feel a bit overexcited about feeling okay and i imagine that as is normal for these phases, i will crank out some stuff as fast as possible. stand back. you might get pelted with something. no worries, it will likely be fuzzy or paint. hopefully.

my nose has been really off lately. everything smells like something else to me. i am usually the super snoot. i can smell something and tell you all of the spices in it. it can be a bad thing. anyway, everything smells different lately. right now, i swear i can smell pasta cooking. except that it is almost midnight and no one has cooked or is cooking. it is really odd. i have had a lot of headaches, so my brain might be a bid muddled.

also, the cats are still fighting. particularly, pavel is constantly growling in a really aggressive way at the other cats even when they are either nowhere near him or sleeping, or just walking by. this causes one sister to growl, the other to come and see and a huge fight because pavel is a total sissy. he is going to have to go to the vet. if he isn’t sick, then he is going crazy. i had a cat that became dangerously aggressive and had to be put to sleep. it was one of the most terrible things i have ever had to do. pavel has been a bit stand-offish even with jake, and that is unusual.

i ate the almond-like pit of a nectarine because i love almonds and thought maybe that was where almonds came from and then barbe told me they had cyanide in them. i looked it up and they do. i then realized that mostly all fruits seeds and pits have cyanide in them and thought about the jack lalane juicer that he puts all of the whole fruits in seeds and all. you could sue him! right? um. oh, and don’t eat that almond-looking thing inside the nectarine. it does taste like an almond…a bitter gross almond. blech. it gets grosser after you swallow too. who knew poison tasted so bad.

on a really depressing note, this story is from not so far away from me. this poor 13 year old girl finally shot her passed out drunk abusive piece of shite father. the house didn’t have running water and was infested with fleas and lice. one of the arresting officers said that the had been to crack houses that were nicer. um. they think that the dad had been raping her, as if the fact that her living conditions were like that wasn’t enough. her mom didn’t have custody of her, but jesus, how bad was her mom if she let the dad keep her and her brother and knew that little about the situation? they aren’t trying her as an adult, but she is going to be in juvey which is just not right. i feel so bad for the kid. i have thought a bit about being a foster parent, dismissing the idea because i am so tired all the time. this girl needs someone, so that she doesn’t just become the same as her mother who has kids and leaves them to fend for themselves. when i was in junior high, a kid killed his stepdad in a similar kind of thing. i don’t know what ever happened to that kid. i remember his face, though. i wonder if i could send her a care package or if that isn’t allowed in the detention center. hm.

okay. i need to try to read a bit and go to sleep.
i love you guys. i really do.
n.