#i started getting into fiber arts literally by making lace

[psychiclounge]

that "you don't need to get into a new craft" post is a fucking curse btw now i have a mini inkle loom and a nalbinding needle coming

[soupbabe]

Not really a request (though ig it can be if you want it to be aleksk) but I've recently taken up bobbin lace and ngl its weirdly something I can see Lester doing if he has the chance to learn. Like I know the obvious art guy is Vincent but we've seen that his methods are more. Unhinged. Whereas bobbin lace can take like four hours to make a square inch so I he'd enjoy it for the first like 40 minutes, then get frustrated with both his lack of progress and the general lack of creative liberty involved alfjsje (like ngl hot take him using humans for his wax statues is just the murder equivalent of us using bases from deviantart for our middle school drawings)

Lester, on the other hand, I think would find it v v calming and would be more capable of just enjoying the process instead of being focused on the end result

Okay here's a mini Vincent rant of my own:you're right, his way of going about wax sculpture is miles more difficult than what I think it actually is 😭 like you're supposed to have a mold and pour wax in it, like Trudy in the beginning of the movie was closer to whatever the fuck Vincent is doing. Vincent just pours wax on some guy and hopes it sticks 😭😭 like he has to chip away and smooth everything out and hope he doesn't chip too far into the body n stuff...the main Sinclairs are kinda lame when you start really thinking about them omg

HOWEVER- Lester is great he's perfect, I think he finds it cool that it's all just very fancy knots and braids. Literally it's what piques his interest. Get this man into fiber arts and he's into it immediately. Could work on it for hours without realizing it. He gives you everything he makes and he's proud of every single one.

[aurumacadicus]

Ok, so random but I went to a yarn group today (I cannot crochet just embroidery but I thought it’d be fun to go) anyways!! I am now imagining Tony picking something like this up (crochet, embroidery whatever) and being in one of these groups could be an AU or maybe he picked it up to have something to do with his hands when bed bound because of getting hurt. Like someone literally just brought him the stuff “you are driving me insane learn how to do this and stay in the damn bed” kind of thing?

Anyways!!! So he’s in the group and for some damn reason Bucky (I’m leaning Bucky) didn’t know he did this, and some older ladies who are in the same group convince him to come after meeting him at a park or something (it’s therapeutic!) but tony is out of town or some reason? So Bucky goes to a few of these meetings, and these ladies won’t stop talking about sweet little “Anthony” and Bucky is sure someone’s talking about a grandson, gotta be someones grandson and how Bucky would get along with him so well and he’s like “oh someone is trying to set me up with their grandson.” Except these women know who Bucky is. Of course they do, he’s been on the news and stuff (if going with superhero’s). But manly because Tony won’t stop talking about him so they know tony has a crush on him, but won’t ever, ever say shit because “oh he hates me” so like old ladies getting them together.

A bunch of getting together shenanigans. Old ladies making it happen. Neither man knows these ladies are doing this. All the fun shit that comes with it you know?

I feel like I didn’t put this together well so I hope it makes sense?

It's perfectly understandable! And it gives me everything I crave, which is: Tony and Bucky being oblivious idiots, and fiber arts.

--

The Stitch and Bitch adopted Tony during physical therapy. He'd been urged to take up something to get the use of his hands back after his accident, and his Rhodey had dropped a hank of yarn and some sticks in his lap, and an hour later Mama Rhodes had arrived to teach him how to use them. She took him to a coffee shop where old ladies people met weekly to show off what they were working on and give advice when they struggled. Tony made a really ugly, lumpy scarf that Rhodey still wore proudly, and also found himself sort of bullied into continuing to attend so he could make better, beautiful scarves.

He figured he was there to stay when he started learning how to make lace shawls.

Tony didn’t get to go the meetings as often as he’d like, but he was always welcomed back with open arms when he could. They especially liked hearing about him vent about the rest of the Avengers, because, "Coffee grounds! In my garbage disposal! Bucky, at least, isn’t a neanderthal and puts them in the compost bucket where they belong." It’s very humanizing for the entire team.

Also one time Tony came in steaming mad because "I thought I had finally house-trained the team but apparently Natasha has just been stealing the coffee grounds to turn her hydrangeas blue and she’s on a mission for the next week and THERE ARE GROUNDS IN MY DISPOSAL AGAIN. I AM FIRING THE TEAM. No, Agnes, I didn’t know she kept hydrangeas, I am absolutely fucking boggled by how she snuck them in when they’re like fifty pounds what do you want from me."

Of course, everyone noticed that one James Buchanan Barnes was carefully left out of Tony’s extensive bitching. "Why would I complain about the only other member of the team who knows what’s compostable," Tony had scoffed when they brought this up to him. Then when they tittered about the fact he was blushing, he just sank in his chair and sighed, frowning down at his motionless needles as he said, “It doesn’t matter. He hates me anyway. He probably only composts because he’s scared I’ll yell at him like I do everyone else.”

“Anthony, why are you so obsessed with compost,” Myrna asked to take his mind off it, because he got this kicked-puppy look that everyone hated when he went into one of his forlorn moods.

“I’m not fucking obsessed with compost,” Tony snapped. “I’m obsessed with the fact that my entire team apparently thinks they live in a frat house. If I find another half-scrubbed plate in the cupboard again, I will blow the team clear out of the tower.”

“As you should,” everyone agreed, nodding.

.-.

Bucky was adopted into the group when some of the members noticed him watching them at the park. He had sort of a resting bitch face, but they figured that just meant he was made for a Stitch and Bitch. They tried him out with knitting, but he hated the way the needle felt in his metal hand, so they swapped his needles for a hook and taught him to crochet instead.

He powered through three washcloths and a blanket before he discovered plush toys, and the rest, as they said, was history.

“You should come to our weekly Stitch and Bitch,” Myrna told him sweetly. “We think you’d be a great match for our little Anthony.”

Bucky sincerely doubted it, because the average person was not made to deal with a semi-brainwashed, dangerous former assassin. “I don’t know.”

“Just think about it,” Agnes said gently, remembering what Tony had said about Bucky not reacting well to orders and having to word everything as suggestions. It was best not to push too hard, he’d said. “I think our little Anthony would just enjoy having someone around his own age to talk to.”

Bucky did not say he was not Anthony’s age, he was almost a hundred, but he sort of wanted to, just to see them squawk. “He’s on the younger side then, huh?” he said instead.

“Oh yes,” Agnes and Myrna assured him.

Bucky still wasn’t sure about meeting ‘Anthony’ and the group at large, so they promised him that the next Stitch and Bitch would just be the main group; Anthony would be out of town for work, so they would be able to ease him in. “Everyone is very friendly, and you can always bitch about how the boy you like doesn’t notice you to fit in,” Myrna added.

“He’s not a boy,” Bucky said, scowling a little.

“The man you like who doesn’t notice you,” Agnes sighed, rolling her eyes.

Bucky scowled a little more. “Will everyone make fun of me like you two do?”

“James,” Myrna moaned, frustrated, before Agnes cheerfully added, “Of course!”

“Pass,” Bucky said, but somehow got wheedled into it with some judiciously wielded Grandma Guilt.

[handweavers]

hi hi!! ive tried to ask this a couple of times but idk how to word it alskjd but how would u recommend to get started in textile arts!! ive only ever done very simple embroidery for fun before but it all sounds so so interesting and i love reading your posts about it all!! thank u

hi!!! the really cool thing about textiles is there's infinite things you can do with them, it's the most versatile medium in my opinion and because it's so closely tied with our survival every culture in the world has some sort of textile tradition and we've had literally thousands upon thousands of years to come up with new ways of playing with fiber!

however that means there's literally SO much out there that it can feel impossible to approach because no matter what you're just hitting the tip of the iceberg. the most common things i would say are knitting, crochet, sewing, embroidery, quilting, and cross stitch, but there's also rug hooking, yarn painting, spinning, weaving, dyeing, nålebinding, macrame, felting, and lace making (and i'm sure i'm still leaving out stuff.) each craft can be done in so many ways and with wildly different techniques.

i recommend picking one or a few that interest you and doing some research on them and watch beginners youtube videos to get an idea of them and the supplies needed to start. pick one and try to find the supplies you'd need for cheap online or lower-end craft stores or diy them (there are lots of tutorials!! you can diy weavers looms, drop spindles, etc. from stuff you might already have) don't spend money on expensive materials until you know you like it, you can test any of these crafts out without spending a lot of money. look on ebay or fb marketplace or similar local sites if anyone's selling used or cheap equipment or materials, lots of people sell big boxes of yarn or thread or knitting needles they don't need anymore!! yarn can be expensive too so look for people selling leftover yarn lots!! you can get some good quality stuff for next to nothing.

if you prefer learning thru reading you can google magazines about the craft and look for free PDFs or see if your local library has any, check your library too for books about it!! in my experience there are always books about knitting and quilting and embroidery in libraries it's pretty much guaranteed. also check out your local museums esp textile museums if you can afford it, you can see all the places people take the medium and you might see something and go 'that! i want to learn how to make that!'

i find that it's easiest to learn something new when i have a specific thing i'm going to use it for, ex. i wanted to learn knitting so i could make my own socks, i wanted to learn the zig zag stitch so i could make a scarf with it, i wanted to learn to spin so i could weave and knit with it, i'm teaching myself pibione weaving to make this specific tapestry idea i have, etc. figure out a concrete project you want to be able to make, like socks or a pillow or a rug or a shirt or a patch or a wall hanging or a plant hanger etc its one thing to say "I want to learn how to knit" and another to say "I want to learn how to knit so I can make my own sweaters" and focus your learning on the skills and materials to be able to produce something. its incredibly motivating.

if you have any q's about getting into a specific craft let me know!! but this is generally the advice i'd give regardless of the fiber art. best of luck!!

[frogeyedape]

My biggest advice for a first knitting project is do not pick something huge or very long. Like...a scarf...in garter stitch...it gets...so tedious...I didn't finish a scarf until literal years into my knitting career. Honestly, I like the idea of a plain hat as a first project. You can knit it flat and seam it to make it hat shaped, or you can start on circular needles (or dpns, double pointed needles) and make it round from the get go. You'll get practice with just knit stitch for the main body of your hat, and then the shaping is generally 1 type of decrease, which is almost identical. But basically...target your first project as something with very few components. If the instructions say a lot of "knit across row" that's good.

You *can* start out with something that goes full hog with knits and pearls and increases and decreases (read: lace. No it's not true lace but it is still full of deliberate holes), but it's easier to read the knit fabric, and your mistakes in it, if you familiarize yourself with 1 or 2 elements first.

Whatever you do. If you tend to work with high tension in your other fiber arts...do not pull cotton stitches tight on your needles. Wool and acrylic will stretch to a point, cotton will try to break you. And your needles.

@roboticchibitan @swords-n-spindles

Im gonna learn how to knit. ((And mostly read the charts lol))

I have a LOT of that yarn thats the super average red heart stuff thats everywhere.

And i.......dont know where to start wrt needle sizes and patterns and stuff like that.

With tatting and cross stitch, learning went really smoothly to have a couple really small projects and a few slightly larger ones to build confidence and practice techniques. And then a significantly larger one that was not technically difficult.

Like i made a BUNCH of these little coasters and then made a giant 14" doily

I super understand if this isnt something you can help with or is too specific or aaaahhhhh.

Im also okay with being sent tutorial videos lol.

[flickerofhopenh]

Lift Me Up - A Niall Horan AU fanfiction

CHAPTER ONE

WARNING: this contains adult content and mentions of addiction, substance abuse, and foul language, read with caution!

AUTHORS NOTE: so! here’s my first chapter to my fic! all the info is on my page under the writing tab ( i may or may not have gotten carried away so it’s a bit long! ) but give it a read and gimmie some feedback! It would be appreciated!

CAST

mia spaulding: freya mavor

niall horan: himself

harry styles: himself

logan goff: adam driver

MIA’S POV 

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  ⠀⠀

Saturday nights at the bar are literal hell.

And this is me putting it lightly.

What people don’t understand is that if the hours are from twelve o’clock pm to three o’clock am that doesn’t give you the right to come in at two fifty-nine and expect to get a nice warm meal and a good attitude.

Fifty hours of work per week was a necessary evil. Seattle isn’t a cheap place to live, even with splitting the rent between two people is barely enough to pay for rent and utilities. So, The Red Lodge had become my second home, if I don’t walk through the door of my apartment smelling like Jack Daniels and fried chicken then it wasn’t a day worth working.

I finally clocked out at three forty five and locked the door after half-ass cleaning the grill and mopping up the kitchen, praying that Jim wouldn’t have my ass for not making sure that the ketchup bottles were filled to the brim and the salt and pepper packages were organized into two separate piles. I was utterly exhausted, and I wasn’t about to spend an extra twenty minutes filling up thirty ketchup bottles to meet Jim’s ridiculously high standards. It wasn’t like I had anything it loose, I was the backbone to this bar, without me it would fall apart in a matter of minutes.

With my aching feet I made the trek back to the apartment that I shared with my fiancé Logan. We’ve been together off and on for about seven years, since we met in our junior year of high school through mutual friends and have been inseparable ever since. He’s truly my rock, and my best friend.

Most people would take a look at my life and see its mundane characteristics; same boyfriend since high school, same shitty job, and a handful of close friends. However, it was what I was content with; I wasn’t a huge fan of change, and my simplistic ways kept me from veering off my fifteen year plan. It sounds cheesy, but my fifteen year plan has kept me on the straight and narrow after a few bumps in the road. It isn’t incredibly detailed, but it’s a reminder of where I use to be, and where I want to be in future.

Fishing the keys from my bag, I unlock the door and walk up the four flights of stairs to apartment 215 where I could hear the low hum of the TV playing through our apartment and figured Logan was asleep on the couch like every night when he promises to wait up for me.

I shut the door behind me and lock it, making my way over to the couch I find him huddled up with a blanket tucked up to his chin, soft snores coming from his parted lips.

I felt my heart swell with utter adoration and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead I decide to let him be until he woke up and decided to come to bed. Logan worked his ass off just as much as I did. He was running a car repair shop just outside of downtown Seattle and was well known for his skills and good prices.

I turn off the TV and flip the lamp off in the living room, quietly making my way to the bedroom not to wake up Logan who was still sleeping peacefully on our couch.

Dropping my bag at the foot of the bed I run a hand through my blonde ringlets and heave out a sigh. My back was aching and my feet were throbbing, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and get some sleep after a shit night at work. As much as I wanted to vent to Logan and tell him about my day, I knew he needed his rest just as much as I did.

Logan was a simple man; he enjoyed the small pleasures in life like beer, cars, music, and good sex. People would always tell me that I would get tired of him after being with the same person since high school, but I proved them wrong, and I had a sparkling engagement ring as proof.

It took him long enough, but last month Logan popped the question on my birthday with a nice dinner and a handwritten letter, nothing glamorous, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I could hardly wait to marry my best friend, my other half; it was all I thought about, it got me through the long shifts, and the little quarrels we would have once in awhile. Was he the picture perfect man? No. Did I give a shit? Absolutely not. I didn’t care if he didn’t compliment me as much as I would like, or make dinner after a long day; that didn’t prove anything to me. I knew that Logan loved me with every fiber of his being, if he didn’t love me we wouldn’t be where we are today, we both have our faults, but in the end I know we are meant to be together.

Letting my black work shirt drop to the floor, I walked to the shared closet we had and thumbed through it until I found my designated shirt that Logan allows me to wear. I slide it over my head and savor the smell of his leftover cologne and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. It was almost like being engulfed in one of his hugs, I could almost feel his arms around me and his lips against my forehead.

He was my safe haven.

It was incredibly late, and as much as I wanted my head to hit the pillow and get some well deserved rest, I decided that something much more important was called to my attention. Being an artist your creativity spikes at night, it’s scientifically proven that you focus better and have more motivation at night, and I was a prime example. I pick up the notepad on the bedside table along with the pencil and tuck it under my arm and make my way out to our fire escape which I have dubbed as my temporary art studio until Logan and I can move into an actual home and not a rundown apartment complex.

The cool Seattle air causes my cheeks to sting red and I return inside to grab a blanket to keep myself warm while I do a bit of sketching. I perch myself on the lawn chair seated on the cement patio and wrap the blue fleece blanket over my shoulders and flip to the sketch I was currently working on which was an abstract sketch of two bodies molded together. I got the idea while talking with Logan’s mom on the phone the other day, listening to her preach about teamwork and being separate but equal in a relationship was the key to making a marriage work.

I’ve never really had a good example of relationship’s growing up, my parents divorced when I was young after my Father’s drug addiction drove my Mom to her breaking point and she left without looking back. Dad was forced into rehab and my Mom got full custody without a second of hesitation from the court. I got along well with my Mom, and we had a good relationship until I started dating Logan. She would constantly point out his flaws, and could never support our relationship; she was a pessimist and couldn’t just be happy for me. One night during dinner she told me that his actions and attitude reminded her of my Dad and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back and I haven’t spoke to her in two and a half years. It was hard at first, but I moved on, I didn’t need someone as toxic as her raining on my parade and controlling my life, I was twenty three years old, she didn’t have a say in who I was involved with. I’ve lost all hope in trying to rekindle a relationship with her, of course I’ll get a voicemail every now and then and a facebook notification but that was it – she truly didn’t give two shits about me, and I didn’t give two shits about her, so we’re on the same page.

My pencil meets the paper and I get to work, perfecting every line and curve, erasing until I’m satisfied with the outcome. Nights like these are my favorite, the sound of passing cars and the wind rustling the oak trees was like a lullaby. Not a single soul was out this late at night, but if they were it was usually drunken patrons making their way home, or a group of girls laughing far too loud in the apartments adjacent to ours.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ when will she get it through her thick skull that I don’t wan’ ta talk to her.”

Well, the silence was nice while it lasted.

I look up from my sketchpad and see a figure through the light bleeding through his own apartment and he was pacing back and forth on the fire escape, his fingers laced through his hair with one hand and a phone pressed to his cheek in the other. His accent was thick and was loud enough that it echoed through the alleyways next to the apartment complex.

I was puzzled, not because of the conversation he was having over the phone, but that fact that I’ve never seen him before. The apartment beside us belonged to Harry, who was a close friend of Logan’s and he always had people popping in and out of his apartment on occasion, but he didn’t sound familiar.

“Well, I don’t wan’ ta talk to her, so you can tell that bitch that she can go fuck herself.”

Jesus, who the hell pissed this guy off?

I return back to my sketching and decide to leave it be, it wasn’t my place to pry, and I didn’t want to get some sob story from a stranger who would probably expect some form of pity.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know anybody was out here.”

Once again, I was interrupted by the same voice and this time it was much softer. When I looked up his hands were gripping the railing and he was gazing at me.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, I’m use to this place not being very quiet,” I reply, going back to my drawing, hoping to end this incredibly awkward conversation.

“Yeah? Well that’s good ta here, Ireland is much nosier than this place, that’s for sure,” he says with a sigh in an attempt to slow his racing heart.

I don’t bother to reply, small talk wasn’t my forte, I would much rather get ten teeth pulled than have to make small talk with a stranger, let alone a stranger who just cussed someone out over the phone.

“’m Niall by the way.”

He clearly didn’t get the memo.

I surrender and tuck my pencil behind my ear and shut my notebook, looking up once again at Niall, my eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Mia, did you just move in or something? I’m sure I would have heard that accent through the walls if you didn’t.”

He grinned and let out a small laugh, shaking his head “Nah, ‘m stayin’ with my mate Harry, ya know him? Great lad.”

“Yeah, he’s close friends with my fiancé Logan, they go drinking on the weekends sometimes.”

That made much more sense as to why I didn’t recognize him, he must of just gotten here, because Harry didn’t even mention anything about a house guest when we were over two nights ago to have dinner and watch football.

When I mentioned the word fiancé, I could see the expression on Niall’s face harden, and his adam’s apple bob like he was swallowing down something vile.

“Fiancé eh? Congratulation,” Niall replied dryly, not showing an ounce of emotion.

I guess that was a touchy subject, and I made a mental note to not ever bring it up if I ever encountered him again.

“You an artist?” Niall questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah, that would explain the sketchbook and pencil,” I say sarcastically, earning a small smirk in return from him.

“Ah, that would make sense, wish I could draw, I’ve always loved art, I can strum a guitar until me finger’s bleed but I couldn’t draw a stick figure to save me life.”

I grimace at the image of bleeding fingers and this causes Niall to laugh once more, holding his hands up to surrender. “My apologies, that wasn’t ‘ta best analogy to use.”

I haven’t spoken to anyone like Niall in years, he was so open and willing to drop facts about him like it was nothing. I was the complete opposite; it took a lot for me to even disclose the simplest of facts about myself; so if he was looking to talk about my religious beliefs or politics he wasn’t going to get very far.

“Well Mia, ‘m sure you’re a wonderful artist, maybe one day I’ll see your paintin’ in a museum or something and I’ll think ‘ta myself ‘Hey! I met her on a fire escape one night and she heard me cuss out me mother!’”

Niall’s comment earns a small smile from me in return and I shake my head in disagreement, “Not even, it’s a dog eat dog world in the art industry, especially in Seattle. Everyone and their grandmother are trying to become artists.”

He grins and I quickly interject, “Except you of course, I’m sure your stick figures would make it in an art museum.”

“Ya got that right.”

Niall was actually interesting to talk to; he seemed genuine, which you don’t get very often, especially in big cities. The poor kid would get eaten alive if he went about meeting everyone like this, so open and forthcoming – but maybe that was a good thing? Maybe it was better to be honest than put on a facade and change your opinions and beliefs depending on who you’re around.

“Can I see?”

I was pulled out of my own train of thought to Niall leaning closer over towards my side of the fire escape, a guard rail and a few feet separating us.

“See what?”

“Your drawin’ of course, I wan’ ‘ta see what me stick figure is up against.”

I wasn’t one to flaunt my art around, mostly because it was personal; it was almost like a diary in a way, and a piece of me when into every brush stroke or pencil mark. It was like exposing bits and pieces of me to a complete stranger.

“Come on, I won’t criticize ya or anything, like I said, ‘m sure you’re an amazing artist.”

“Now you’re just buttering me up.”

“That’s me forte,” Niall beams proudly, straightening up his shoulders.

I hesitate for a moment, lips pursed together before I stand up and walk towards his end of the fire escape, handing him my sketchbook, trusting that he wouldn’t criticize every bit of my sketches.

“They’re just sketches, some of them aren’t finished,” I point out, watching him open up to the first few pages, his eyebrows furrowed as he study’s the pieces laid out before him.

“Aren’t finished? Jesus Christ these are amazing, I’ve never seen anythin’ like these before, you got a talent, that’s for damn sure.”

I feel my cheeks flush red involuntary and I chuckle, shaking my head once again, “Well thank you, but I’m sure you haven’t seen that may pieces of art, I’m still learning.”

It was true, I didn’t even consider myself good at drawing, and it was more of a hobby. Would I like to make a career out of it? Of course. Did I stand a chance in the industry? Hell no. It was difficult to even get your art out there for people to see, let alone be displayed in museums.

“I’ve seen some rough pieces of art, but this is amazing Mia, really amazing,” Niall gushed as he shook his head, flipping through the last few pages of my sketchbook.

“Mia.”

The familiar voice makes my head snap to the door and I see Logan standing in the doorway, looking groggy and exhausted in a tee shirt and sweatpants, his eyes shift between Niall and I and I quickly snatch the sketchbook from him.

“Didn’t know you were home from work,” He folded his arms over his broad chest and I retreated back towards him, standing in front of Logan, seeing a change in his stature as I felt Niall’s eyes on the two of us. Logan was the protective type, he didn’t like the thought of anyone looking at me or talking to me, I knew it was because he had been cheated on before we started dating, so that fear was always still in the back of his mind.

“You were asleep on the couch, I didn’t want to wake you,” I assure him, resting my hands on his waist, standing on my toes to give him a peck on the cheek, feeling his stubble tickle my lips.

“Hey, ‘m Niall, friends with Harry, ya know him?” Niall pipes up, hoping to ease some of the awkward tension between the three of us.

“Yeah I know Harry, Didn’t know he had a roommate.”

“Nah, ‘m just stayin’ for a few weeks thought I’d pay him a visit.”

“I see.”

Jesus, you could physically feel the uncomfortable air between us, I could tell Logan looked upset at the fact that I was showing Niall my art, especially since I was hesitant to show my fiancé my drawings, but I was so willing to show them to a complete stranger.

“It’s time for bed baby, come on let’s go inside,” I say meekly, glancing back at Niall over my shoulder for a split second, I see him looking confused and cautious, as if Logan was a grenade and he was waiting for him to go off. I usher Logan inside, without another word uttered to the brunette that was on the fire escape, praying that I wouldn’t cause another quarrel between Logan and I. I hear the door shut behind us and I walk to the bathroom to wash my face off, and to give Logan some space, half expecting him to lash out in anger right then and there.

“You showed him your art,” Logan stated, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, his lips pursed into a thin line.

“He was just curious, that’s it, I just showed him one picture,” I defended, drying my hands and pushing past Logan to get ready for bed, my emotions on high alert.

“It looked more than one picture Mia,” He says with a bit of edge in his voice.

I feel my stomach coil and I step out of my jeans and pull on some shorts, tying my hair up into a bun as I think of one to say, tip toeing around the situation.

“He just kept flipping, that’s it, no big deal Logan, it’s fine.”

I make my way across the room to Logan who was sitting on the edge of them bed, his shoulders tense and arms still folded over his chest. I move to sit on his lap and cup his stubble cheeks in my hands and lean in to kiss his lips. I feel him relax beneath me and a sigh of relief come from his lips.

“I’m sorry, you know how I get, I didn’t mean to piss you off,” He apologized, hands resting on the small of my back to pull him closer to his broad chest.

“It’s okay baby, and I’m working on a piece just for you, for your eyes only,” I beam at my handsome fiancé and run the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip.

“Missed you today, I was lonely without my girl.”

I feel my heart skip a beat and my stomach flutter when he utters those two words, his lips attach to my neck and his hands tighten around my slender waist. My breathing hitches in my throat and in surrender to his touch.

“Suddenly I’m not tired anymore,” I hum, digging my fingernails into Logan’s forearms as I feel his lips travel across my clavicle, leaving gentle kisses and soft bites on my freckled skin.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on going to bed anytime soon either,” He looks up at me through his thick black lashed and I feel his lips curve into a smirk against my skin. In one swift movement he lays back on the bed and I straddle his waist once more, a laugh tumbling from my lips.

“Good,” I reply, bending down to kiss Logan’s lips and pull the hem of his shirt up over his head, and tossing it to the floor.

[femmesfollesnebraska]

Artist Feature: Holly Wong

Thrilled to feature this q-and-a with artist Holly Wong...

1.       Where are you from? 

I am from North Miami Beach Florida which is a diverse suburban community within the broader Miami, Dade County.

“Mind/Forest II” 2018, Polyester tulle, thread, duralene plastic, plastic rope, cotton gauze, origami paper, and monofilament wire, 20’L x 15’D x 14’H.

2.       How did you get into creative work and what is your impetus for creating? 

Like many children, I had a passion for drawing when I was growing up and I developed an ability and love for art making at an early age.  Miami was experimenting at the time with arts magnet educational programs in the 1980’s and I had the benefit of attending a number of arts high schools that helped me focus my interest in art making as a life path.  Alongside of this, my mother taught me a great deal about sewing and in general, making things with fabric and other types of materials; I developed a confidence in sewing later in life as a result of this.

3.       Tell me about your current/upcoming show/exhibit/book/project and why it’s important to you. 

I currently am preparing for two exhibitions.  The first is participating in the A.I.R. Gallery National Members exhibit in Brooklyn, New York from May 23, 2019-June 22, 2019.  I will be showing a series of four water colors on paper that have been burned with candle smoke.  The imagery in this series has a patterned and dream-like reference, layered with the candle smoke which blurs and obfuscates the images.  It is a metaphor for memory and how our understanding of history changes with the passage of time.  The second exhibition is a solo show at the Evanston Art Center in Illinois from July 14, 2019-August 11, 2019.  This exhibit is titled “Silent Music” and consists of several large fiber-based installations on the walls as well as suspended pieces in front of a large window which speak to the nature of psychological states and the visual movement of thought. I utilize ephemeral materials such as polyester tulle, thread and dichroic film to describe a state of both absence and presence.  “Silent Music” is about trying to find a center of stillness in a deeply conflicted world.

“Silent Music I”, 18’W x 8’H x 2’D, Dichroic film, vinyl table cloth, plastic bags, gold foil, hand-painted vellum, and thread, 2019.

4.       What do you hope people get out of your work? 

This is always a really great question because people’s responses to a piece of art work are not only the function of the work itself but also the lens of their own psychology and personal experience.  I do hope that my work gives a feeling of peace and an opportunity for self-reflection. In some ways, my work is an invitation to enter a psychological space free of judgment or preconception.  I want people to have a primary experience in viewing my work and to feel awareness that despite our casting of reality in one way or another, impermanence is the constant.

5.       Does collaboration play a role in your work—whether with your community, artists or others?  How so and how does this impact your work?

I would say that at this point, my work to date has entirely been constructed by my own hands and I take a particular joy from literally the hundreds of hours of sewing involved.  It is a meditation in itself.  I do hope at some point to do larger public works and I realize to scale up, I will need to trust and involve others.  I have been invited to participate in a collaborative project with other artists as a part of an application to the Canadian World of Threads 2021 festival which will be my first collaborative activity.  I really appreciate Hana Rotchild’s invitation and her work is wonderful. (See more at @hanarotchild) 

6.       Considering the political climate, how do you think the temperature is for the arts right now, what/how do you hope it may change or make a difference?

I think there are many climates in the arts environment because it is such a complex ecosystem and it is hard to describe it monolithically.  That said, I do see trends; there is a new focus on art that has a quality of social practice/social engagement and also a focus on highlighting artists of color which is incredibly encouraging.  It has also been great to see artists creating their own opportunities for themselves by launching collectives and defining exhibition venues for themselves.  These are very positive things.  I think the market place still ultimately drives what is talked about or shown in some major museums but it is changing as more people of color become curators and start to be a part of the conversation that they were never a part of previously. I don’t think any of these things happened because it was “given to people”.  It was the result of many years of fighting and advocacy and if there was something that I wish could change, I would say that the art world needs to continue to expand to include more voices and to institutionalize the notion of inclusiveness vs. an occasional give away when it is politically advantageous.

“Emerge ”, 11”W x 12”H, Plastic, dichroic film, vinyl lace tablecloth, painted vellum, polyester tulle and thread, 2019 

  7.       Artist Wanda Ewing, who curated and titled the original LFF exhibit, examined the perspective of femininity and race in her work, and spoke positively of feminism, saying “yes, it is still relevant” to have exhibits and forums for women in art; does feminism play a role in your work? 

I would not describe my work as explicitly feminist per se because the impetus of my work is my study of Zen Buddhism and the notion of creating a visual environment of formlessness and nondiscrimination.  However, I use fabric and sewing practices as a major component of my work and can often be cast as “other” because I am working in ephemeral materials that are the domain of domestic activity.  Because I am a middle-aged woman, I have experienced some inequities as many of my generation have whether in the workplace or elsewhere.  Thus by definition, I am a feminist because I believe firmly in the full emancipation of my gender.  Feminism is 100% still relevant because many women, especially disadvantaged women of color, are not free or able to participate in their own self-determination.  It is true that my artwork does not explicitly speak to these issues but its presence outside the white cube is a feminist action in of itself.

8.       Ewing’s advice to aspiring artists was “you’ve got to develop the skill of when to listen and when not to;” and “Leave. Gain perspective.”  What is your favorite advice you have received or given?  

I love Ewing’s advice and it really resonates with me.  My husband, Al Wong, a highly accomplished San Francisco Bay Area artist and educator, gave me the best advice one day. I was feeling deeply uncertain about the nature of my imagery, its value or relevance.  He said to me: “You must be your own Charlie Parker.”  (For readers new to jazz, Charlie Parker was a legendary American jazz saxophonist and composer living during the first half of the 20th century).  My husband encourages me to follow my artist path exactly as my instincts are telling me to do and not to copy anyone in order to be accepted.  His fierce belief in me even at times when I did not see it in myself was ultimately transformational for me.

Holly Wong in her studio, photo by Al Wong.

https://hollywongart.com/

~

Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins.  LFF Booksis a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017).Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

Current call for collaborative art-writing: http://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/181376606692/lff-2019-artistpoet-collaborations

Current call: What does being a womxn mean to you? http://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/183697785757/what-does-being-a-womxn-today-mean-to-youyour

[coppersloths]

8 Creative Destructions Annotation/Reaction

“I see making art as a way of combining the world in my head together with he world outside.”  

I think this is a pretty perfect definition of what I feel like art is to me! 

It is always interesting to me to hear how artists stumbled upon their initial idea for a new collection of pieces. Like lane, who had jokingly  put doilies on all of the welding machines after cleaning up her shop and realizing how “feminine” the task seemed. This is just so interesting that something as small as that started a huge project! 

“it creates a dialogue of beautiful filth”

i like that sentence 

GOD her crafts just impeccable. the lace patterns she is able to work into the metal is perfect! another is no way its a walk in the park to handle that torch. as she said, it created rough lines, yet he is able to make it look so delicate, so purposefully done. It looks handmade, but also manufactured. 

Devore’: an acids-etching technique (dictionary.com definition: a velvet fabric with a pattern formed by burning the pile away with acid.)

Example of devore’ 

“I am interested in...the physical tolerance of the material, in thinking about this cloth as a kind of membrane or skinny and the idea that the cutting it pushes it toward its most fragile limit.”

The idea of thinking of cloth as skin, as a membrane. draws an interesting visual  in my head. I had never thought of textile like that. 

Jali Screens: dictionary.com “is the term for a perforated stone or latticed screen, usually with an ornamental pattern constructed through the use of calligraphy and geometry.” 

example of jail screen (BEAUTIFUL!!!) 

I just cannot get over how clean these artists are in their craft. Half the reason these pieces are abet be so striking and work so well is the meticulousness of how they were created.

“she chose as her material a Persian carpet that was once in the living room of her childhood home. ‘ it is something i stared at so many times, and although it eventually had been worn almost beyond recognition, i still knew it really intimately; it was embedded in my visual repertoire’”

I am very interested in the intrinsic value textiles/fibers can hold. Just the other month, my mother was going to throw away his ancient tattered afghan that we have had in the house since before i was born. I literally almost cried. So i took it and its on my bed now. It is in complete tatters, and anyone who saw it should probably also agree it belongs in the trash, but the feeling that blunt gives me goes beyond the fibers it is made of. This is so interesting to me. Nothing quote shows wear and tear as well as fibers, they break down the quickest of most manufactured things, when compared to furniture, paintings, and things of that nature. Yet, to me, though fibers is the most ephemeral, it is the most likely to hold value. The wearing down of those textiles and fibers in our lives is like the aging of a whiskey or wine, it gets better as it ages. It becomes more and more special to you the closer it gets to its deadline. 

REACTION: I think this is another favorite article. I liked the writing style and the visual analysis was interesting and not too long. All of these artists are so talented, and i love any kind of reading material that makes me think of my own craft/art and how i can improve as an artist, or be inspired by the artists that are being talked about.