Wednesday, March 28, 2012


I'm going to reveal a little part of my psyche here - I can't outline a box and not fill it in.  There is something about incompleteness that nags at me.  Which is really funny if you've ever seen my desk or house, because those entire spaces are studies in incompleteness.

On some days?  This is clean.

When I started my Vintage Iowa Postcard rug, I wanted to outline the entire thing first, because I've heard other hookers say that's how to start your rug.  But I can't do it.  I can't have that big outline and not have it filled in right away.  I find myself MEANING to outline the entire border, but then I'll start the trees and next thing you know, that small part is outlined and then filled in.  I start the cornfield, and then it's outlined and filled in.  Then the barn.  You get the drill.

It's a little tougher with the sky, because it's so big.  I can't really outline the entire sky, nor do I want to, so I'm outlining chunks of it and then filling in with swirls and wavy lines.  It's interesting, because as much as I want to think I'm consistent, each "chunk" turns out different.

Once again, I'm packing, and once again, I'm counting on the magic of steaming to work out some of my issues.  I just bought some wool from Nola Heidbreder to use on the clouds (you can see it on my desk - there is this fantastic turquoise/jade color, and the "Snow" wool is underneath it), and am waiting on some orange wool from Gene Shepherd to fill in my letters.


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