As the year draws to a close it is inevitable that I look back and piece together the small accomplishments and ponder on how much more of myself has manifested itself. Most of the year has been spent on creating and bring new art into life experimenting with textures nad materials, seeing what really ticks me during the processes. And I have come to the conclusion that fabric, felt, ribbons and threads, yarn and fibres, velvets and linens are my favorite materials.

Once in a while, after reading all the magazines out there, I will return to paper, but I really don't enjoy it that much. First of all the messiness, second of all being honest with myself, I'm not really all that good at it.

So I believe the next year will be spent more on discovering and re-discovering more of fabrics.

I remember as a girl being taken to the Victoria and Albert museum by my parents and loving the section with all the costumes through the ages, seeing Degas' Ballerina for the first time with her tutu and just gazing at it from all angles. I was in love with fabrics and brocades already. Then seeing the Bayeaux Tapestry became a memory ingrained in my mind forever.

Latin America too exposed me to the array of weaving and all the bright colors I use more commonly. I love bright colors, they are synonimous with happiness.

This doesn't mean I won't keep exploring the canvas, I sometimes enjoy painting, mixing different mediums to achieve relief, but in order to find that one loud voice, I would prefer to start narrowing my creativity to one medium I truly love.

Rows and floes of angel hair

And ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere

I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun

They rain and they snow on everyone

So many things I would have done

But clouds got in my way

Ive looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

Its cloud illusions I recall

I really dont know clouds at all

Moons and junes and ferris wheels

The dizzy dancing way that you feel

As every fairy tale comes real

I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show

And you leave em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now

From give and take, and still somehow

It's loves illusions that I recall

I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud

To say I love you right out loud

Dreams and schemes and circus crowds

I've looked at life that way

But now old friends they're acting strange

They shake their heads, they say I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's lifes illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

I've looked at life from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It's lifes illusions that I recall

I really don't know life at all

It's amazing what a conversation, especially a conversation with one of your own, and one that starts out horrifying you, can reveal about yourself. We are sometimes in such denial, clinging to pseudo truths for lack of an escape route, that we actually lie to ourselves. Me being the kind of person that believes I am here on a journey to aspire to become a better person feel tarnished when I am not true to myself.

Since this is a public blog and partially a personal journal, this might seem written in code and it must remain so; no, I will not reveal what has been bothering me about myself (that is between me, God and my inner conscience) although many of you know from years of hints that I have been living a double standard. I find this a safe place, a sort of room of my own where I can humanly spill the beans as I ponder over my next step.

So my conversation with Tatiana, my twenty-one year old daughter whose soul has taken quantum leaps in the last year through experiences of her own, was a treasure waiting.

It is time, I must seize the moment and confront the truth. She mentioned I had always been a hustler in the past and that I had slowly become complacent, leaning too much on those around me to maintain a status quo when there were so many more mountains to climb and so many more surprises outside my door. I see now that she really liked that part of me in spite of having seen me struggle financially as a single mother for over 9 years. The truth is I liked it too, the survivor instinct, the never-giving-up attitude, the stiff upper lip English heritage.

If only I had the strength and courage to open that door again. I am not as strong as I used to be, mentally or physically so this will be a challenge indeed. But the first step has been taken, I have made up my mind, no more living in a blur, no more playing it safe, no more giving in nor giving up my dreams.

Even if this means remaining by myself for a good sabbatical year, it will feel better than compromising out of guilt and duty. How can I possibly become my true self otherwise? How can I be an example to my children if I don't live by the principles I have so much striven to teach them? It cannot all boil down to money all the time; I have been the happiest when I have had the least and I can do it again.

So today, I begin by opening a window, my bedroom window and feeling the air in my nostrils.

To Those I Love, Go in Peace

Just a quickie this morning to thank all I love for their beautiful comments on my posts and uploads on my Flickr photostream. The blessings just keep pouring my way.

The countdown 'til Christmas has begun and packages in array of papers begin to surround the fireplace, lists for cooking begin and commitments for visits registered.

Gathering, sharing, excitement, children's voices and laughter and all the glitter awaits.

It is almost finished. Weeks of embroidery and beading have produced this freehand Mandala. It's frame awaits anxiously. The world is embracing color. After decades of beiges and browns and classic colors all is playful, almost childlike. I think we are all craving more naivete, a pure environment, simple things, anything to brighten up the bleakness of the times. I choose to join them. Most of my art inclinations call for bright colors and optimism.

I feel so loved

Back in the day it was pen pals. I used to have a couple of friends in Germany I used to write to and exchange postcards and photographs with. Now it is my cyber friends: over 100 on Facebook, all friends from my past in England and Chile, some who have moved to foreign countries and some here in America. But my favorites are my blog and Flickr friends, people I have met over the years becasue of common art tastes and similar values.

With this group of friends ever growing, I have more and more people to love. I get so much back from them, laughter, appreciation, admiration, support, empathy, wisdom and inspiration. I feel so loved.

Bless the month with a turkey in the oven

Bless the penny found on the ground and the minutes left on the meter.

Bless the lowly turnip married to sweet cream butter.

Bless yesterday's mistakes before you let them go.

Bless canned tomatoes on a frozen winter night.

Bless the spatula that flips the egg over easy and so tenderly.

Bless the taken-for-granted light in the refrigerator.

Bless the goose that gives up its down.

Bless the bulbs dreaming underground.

Bless the lesson learned the hard way

Bless the people who know your name, the heart's GPS, the road home.

Extracted from an issue of SKIRT

Jon surprised me today with three doodles, soemthing he hadn't done in years after he picked music as his artform of choice. As a boy he was a great cartoonist in school and I have several of his doodles framed that are timeless. But these really blew me away. How lucky to have an artistic descendant; someone who understands the pseudo-madness it involves, the humor, the pent up anger, the social responsibility, the urge, the need, the duty to see underneath the surface of things.

Bluebird
there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there,

I'm not going to let anybody see you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks

never know that he's in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay down,

do you want to mess me up?

you want to screw up the works?

you want to blow my book sales in Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I'm too clever,

I only let him out at night

sometimes when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,

so don't be sad.

then I put him back,

but he's singing a little in there,

I haven't quite let him die

and we sleep together like that

with our secret pact

and it's nice enough to make a man weep,

but I don't weep,

do you?

BUKOWSKI

Recordando Aquel Gran Amor

And so it Goes
In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along
I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break
And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows

Billy Joel speaking for me

Oh so busy with the Christmas decor and shopping that Art takes second place. Not all bad since, as an artist, sometimes one can obsess and wander into a labrynth with no exit for days. As a matter of fact there have been weeks where I have barely wandered further than my immediate neighborhood taking care of the necesssities and then rushing home in order not to lose the creative momentum. There have also been days where I am still in my jammies way past lunch time, refusing to stop what I am doing.

So this break of sorts puts me in contact with reality. Ofcourse my favorite stores are the bookstores where I can make an excuse to visit the magazine section and the Arts and Crafts section and come up with an excuse to give myself something too. Went into Barnes and Noble a couple of days ago looking for Susan Tuttle's book "Mixed Media Demonstrations and Explorations" www.amazon.com/Exhibition-36-Gallery-Mixed-Media-Inspiration/dp/1600611044/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1207791122&sr=1-3 but couldn't find it and had to settle for two more Somerset Studio magazines instead. I have never been a good shopper, I get confused and anxious when I have to spend money. Although making those I love happy by giving, I much prefer Thanksgiving which has not been contaminated with material giving. I am now almost done though, thoroughly making lists and getting to the post office early to mail all my Flickr friends overseas their gifts ahead of the rush. Hopefully, once I complete the last two or three pending gifts we can enjoy Home and all it's decorations, light the fireplace, turn on the scented candles, watch a movie or two, read some poetry and cook that special something we've been putting off 'til this opportunity.

Yet Art abides! Eves,I inevitably pull out some yarn and crochet a hat 4 Jan or make another bauble for my bauble garland.