Posted in Abstract Art, Quilts

It Wasn’t On The Syllabus

I’m learning things in my painting class although none of what I’m learning is on the syllabus. I’m learning to see color better. I have to hold a piece of fabric up to the thread display to find thread that matches the fabric. I’ve marveled at those who can match thread and fabric from across the room. I can’t do that yet, but I am seeing subtle differences in colors. Or rather differences that are subtle to my eye. 

I’m learning who I am. For those who think finding oneself is done sometime between age 30 and age 40, it’s not. Finding oneself is a life-long journey. If it weren’t, I’d have found myself 40 years ago. 

The current assignment is four self-portraits done in four different forms – realistic, impasto, optical illusion, and abstract. The realistic painting isn’t realistic, but I kind of like it so I’m going to leave it as it is. The impasto painting was fun. Wild brush strokes. Lots of paint. Lots of fun.  The optical illusion one I detest. I’m not having fun. Even if I stood a half mile away, it would still look like a collection of lines with no focus. The abstract one is a revelation. The idea was to show how bipolar disorder feels. The unexpected side effect is a revelation.

I’m discovering I’m an abstract artist. I never thought of myself that way. I thought I couldn’t draw accurately so I’m a crappy artist. Nope. I’m an abstract artist. Looking back at my work completed during the last five years, I’ve discovered every piece is abstract. The pieces are about feelings rather than about depictions. My quilt about sexual assault is about rage. I started with a 3-D, life size, more or less anatomically correct portion of the female anatomy, and the emotion came roaring out of my hands.  My quilts about suicide are about grief, the long process of healing that grief, and trying to accept there is no answer to the critical question of why. My pandemic quilts are about depression and isolation. My biology quilts are about how I saw what I learned in my biology classes. The biology quilts are also about how I felt when I made them. My quilt about mass murder is a depiction of the will to live. There’s no way to depict any of that except as abstract art. 

I haven’t quilted Burying The Ghosts yet. It took so long to audition fabric, accept that what I had in mind wasn’t going to work, and redesign the piece. The entire concept is abstract. Or is it abstract realism? The emotion is real. The concept is abstract. Or maybe it’s life that is abstract.

Abstract pieces falling into place. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Brady, Depression, Memories, Mental Illness, Peripheral neuropathy, Photography

Another Day, Another Anniversary

For me, March is a month of anniversaries. 

March 5, 2012 was the day I was finally correctly diagnosed: bipolar disorder. Suddenly, my life made sense. 

March 9, 2021 was the day ketamine banished a bone-crushing depression.

March 13, 2020 was the day New Mexico shut down. I’ve had insomnia ever since. 

March 20, 2018 was the day I realized the reason I formulated a detailed plan to commit suicide was depression. It was also the day I decided to live and immediately went back on an antidepressant.

This past week was spring break. This past week was frustrating. This past week was, and still is, painful. I’m having a neuropathy flare up bad enough to keep me home rather than going in to school and working on the four self-portraits assigned in my painting class. I am significantly behind working on those paintings and fear I won’t have them done by the day they are due. The grade doesn’t matter because I’m not working towards another degree. What matters is having the work done on time, and it won’t be. I am embarrassed by this.

We are working on still lives in the photography class. This is part of what I handed in. 

Home made abortion tools; it’s a political statement.

Auditioning fabric.

Dead Life.

I rarely use live view, but I used it for this photo. I was setting up another shot, looked down, and saw what the camera “saw.” It was more interesting than the shot I had planned.

Peace. It’s my palate for my painting class. When I’m in the Art Zone, neuropathy pain disappears, the world disappears, I forget to use the bathroom. I love being in the Art Zone.

Cheshire moon. I love taking shots of a less than full moon. I wasn’t steady enough to set up the tripod and use the 150-600mm lens. The marijuana I use to combat neuropathy pain leaves me stoned and walking into walls. I used the 18-400mm lens that was on the camera.

I worked on turning some photos into fabric designs. Eventually, I’ll have them in my Spoonflower shop. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in anxiety

A Hard Rain Is A Falling

I remember arguing with my grandmother about nuclear weapons when I was in grade school. I thought then, and have never thought otherwise, that dropping an atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was morally wrong and never should have happened. My grandmother thought atomic bombs were the appropriate way to end the war. It was the only time she agreed with a decision by a democrat. The only time she criticized a republican was when Bush went to Hirohito’s funeral.

Mine was the first generation to grow up with the terror of nuclear war. Even as little kids, we knew about skeletons on fire and melting flesh. I had nightmares about being where a hydrogen bomb was dropped. Our fears weren’t groundless. We had useless air raid drills twice a year in school. I’ve never figured out how leaning my face against my locker and putting an arm behind my head would protect me from radiation poisoning and the school being reduced to rubble.

I grew up watching dead, burnt bodies in Vietnam on the evening news. We ate dinner while watching the news. I saw a naked child running down the street after she had been burned by napalm. I saw a Vietnamese man get his brains blown out of his head. Every time Lyndon Johnson came on TV, I told myself, “this time he will say it’s over.” He didn’t. He always came to us with a heavy heart. I was in high school when LBJ decided not to run for reelection. There was an announcement over the PA telling us he wasn’t running. That’s how much against the war people – even conservative people – were. 

After my clock radio alarm woke me up on May 5, 1970, I listened to the news about how the Ohio National Guard opened fire on unarmed students and murdered four people. I felt cold terror in my bowels. Ten years later, I was in college during Commuter Daze – a time to blow off steam before final exams – and saw the sheet hanging from the second floor of the student union. “My God, my God, they are killing us.” I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. I was halfway through eating a hot dog. Being seven years older than my classmates, what they learned about was what I experienced. I remember hearing someone say the message was about “some kids got killed.” 

Yesterday, February 24, 2022, I had a court appearance via zoom. This was a worker’s comp case and we had already worked out a settlement. All that needed to be done was the judge to ask my client if my client understood the terms and to approve the settlement agreement. Purely a formality. I’m comfortable in court. I love hearings and trials. I spent the morning on edge and anxious. After a while, I realized it wasn’t a hearing that concerned me. I was anxious because Russia invaded Ukraine and had captured what had been contained radiation from Chernobyl after the reactor melted down. NATO is going to have to respond. The US is already sending troops to Eastern Europe. Russia is aligned with China and North Korea. All three countries have nuclear weapons capable of hitting the US and all three countries are run by madmen.  We are sitting on the edge of a world war. This time, there will be no winners. There will only be radiation. 

What terrified me as a child, terrifies me now. 

Thank God the narcissistic sociopath lost the election. 

Posted in Depression, Fiber, Photography, Quilts

Making My Way Through Time and Place

Each year, NMSU has a juried student art show. I’ve submitted work in the past without acceptance. Quilting isn’t taught at NMSU; therefore, quilting isn’t an art. I wonder what the jurors would say about Faith Ringgold’s art. My painting teacher has made it a class assignment to enter up to three pieces of art to the juried show. He has encouraged me to enter my quilts. I chose one quilt: Depression. It’s a depiction of how I felt in February 2021. 

The other two entries are photographs I took when it snowed a couple weeks ago. 

Because there’s a cash prize for best in show, entrants must register for Scholar Dollars. I answered questions about did I grow up in a single-parent home. Yes, for four years before my mother married The Drunk. Do I have a disability? Yes. Bipolar disorder doesn’t feel like a disability but I’ve no idea what normal feels like. Any veterans in the family? My father, The Drunk and Jim are veterans. Overcome educational barriers? Yes. My mother and The Drunk were convinced college made a person stupid and I wasn’t allowed to apply to colleges. I started college shortly after my 25th birthday and earned two degrees: journalism and biology – although I was not allowed to take math or science classes in high school. 

I’m not sure when the decision will be made and I doubt my work will be accepted. I don’t make normal art. Neither does Faith Ringgold. 

I need to come up with 10 additional photos for a sense of place for my photography class by Sunday. I’ve decided most of the shots I want although I’ve my doubts about how some of the shots will be received. Here’s what I’ve shot so far. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in bipolar disorder, Photography

Mood Swings

Is the bipolar disorder getting worse as I grow older? Or am I finally starting to take care of myself? 

I seem to have more mood swings now than when I was younger. Used to be, it didn’t matter how I felt; I went to work, walked in to court, and represented clients. Nothing that happens in court is ever about me. It’s about the person standing next to me so why care about my mood.

What about the mood swings? There were obvious manic episodes. Like the day I threw an inch-thick pile of discovery at a witness and told the witness to go through the pile and tell me what else he had refused to turn over to me. I actually got away with that. Or the time I told a client to stop speaking immediately or I would staple his lips together. I got away with that, too. 

I didn’t realize I had a problem until I screamed at a secretary. She made a joke about me volunteering to cook the turkey for the office Christmas party. I backed her into a wall as I screamed that whoever put the fucking turkey on the menu should have to cook the fucking turkey. I made an appointment to see my doctor the next day and started on Effexor that evening. It is a sad and terrifying statement about my office that no one noticed my behavior was out of control. 

Now that I’m retired, I notice every mood swing. I think. Frequently, it’s difficult for me to notice I’ve started to move away from center. I was depressed the other day. I was above suicidal but significantly below center. I had to take a second antidepressant. My doctor knows I do this when I’m significantly depressed. Earlier in the week, I had a severe manic episode. It snowed overnight. Although the university was closed until 11:00 AM, Jim got up at 4:30 AM and went to work. I’ve been battling insomnia and had only three hours sleep. Then Brady ate my hearing aids. At least she didn’t swallow them and the damage she did chewing on them could be fixed. I spiraled so far above center that I was unable to calm down. I needed to go to school for my photography class. If I took enough klonopin that I could start to calm down, I’d be unable to drive. If I did nothing, I couldn’t function. Brushing my teeth was the extent of my self care that day. Fortunately, my photography class was held via zoom rather than in person. I didn’t need to drive anywhere, so I took a day’s worth of klonopin in one dose. I calmed down. 

The next day, I took my chewed hearing aids to the place where I got them. A half hour later, I left with hearing aids that were fixed at no charge. 

I wonder. Is the bipolar disorder really getting worse? Or am I starting to take care of myself so I’m noticing the swings? Or am I entering the Art Zone – that place where the world disappears – less frequently?

As frustrating as the photography class is, I am learning things. Embarrassing things. Things that after 42 years of serious photography I ought to know but don’t. I discovered there’s a light meter in the viewfinder. I rarely use live view because I do so much outdoor photography and the live view monitor is useless in bright sunlight. I use the viewfinder. And never noticed the light meter. Last week, I learned that I can set the focus on my camera for fine detail. Years of macro photography, and I had no idea that setting existed. 

I did some snow photography this week and used the fine detail focus setting to get some ice crystal shots. 

I sold two designs from my Spoonflower shop this week. You can find my shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

You can find my online store, Deb Thuman Art here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com My store is filled with jewelry and one of a kind art.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in anxiety, Judiasm, Photography, Suicide

Life As I See It

I did the final shots for Shalom Shabbat and Yahrzeit. Yahrzeit was shot at the beginning of the yahrzeit for the person I knew who committed suicide three years ago. Then, I let the candle burn down and thought about how the person’s life burned down and disappeared. I still don’t understand why the suicide happened and I’m not enthralled with the idea I will never understand. This is the first time I was able to say kaddish. I broke down after the first two words and had to force myself to say the rest of the prayer.

Shabbat Shalom
Yahrzeit

I’ve taken a few more shots for the sense of place assignment for my photography class. I made the decision that I’ll do the assignments that interest me and forget about the rest. It’s a difficult class. The subject matter isn’t difficult – it’s the class itself that is causing severe anxiety. The class is taught by a grad student. I’ve had grad student teachers before and some are fantastic. This grad student is far from fantastic. She proclaimed Annie Leibowitz is a fashion photographer. Certainly what John Lennon was wearing in the famous shot taken a few hours before he was killed was fashion forward. I had no idea Rolling Stone had a fashion section. Yes, Leibowitz shot several covers for Vogue, but those shots are clearly portrait shots. To shoot a good portrait shot, you have to focus on the person’s eyes. Fashion photography focuses on the clothing. The covers Leibowitz shot focus on the face and the clothing is an after thought. The student next to me said that Georgia O’Keeffe was “some sort of artist, I think.” I live in southern New Mexico and it’s impossible for me to imagine any art student here isn’t familiar with Georgia O’Keeffe’s work. I try not to have physical reactions to things the other students say, but I did a face plant when I heard that. 

I started playing around with a photo of a bunny-munched prickly pear cactus pad.

I got out the macro lens to shoot yucca seed pods.

Apparently 14 years is the lifespan of an iPod. I had to break down and buy an iPod Touch. When I want music, I want music. I don’t want texts. I don’t want phone calls. I don’t want games. If I’m going to watch a movie, it won’t be on a 4” screen. I blasted off all the apps I have never used on my iPhone and certainly would never use on an iPod. Next, I had to buy new earbuds. The ones I had will only pair on one ear. I bought a set of JBL earbuds. They stay in my ears and both pair with the iPod. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in Emotions, Fiber, Grief, Photography, Quilts, Suicide

Candlelight

I’m taking a photography class at the local university. The class is being taught by a grad student. I’m the only one in the class who has worked with film. My first single lens reflex camera was a Valentine’s Day present in 1980. Canon – AT1, the last fully manual camera Canon made. I loved that camera, I still have it, and it’s older than everyone in my class. My current camera, a DSLR Canon 90D, was a Valentine’s Day gift in 2020.

We’re assigned to take a series of photos showing a sense of place, but not the usual chamber of commerce type shots.

These are studies for two photos.

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat shalom means sabbath peace. I made the quilt after a terrorist armed with an assault rifle walked into the Tree of Life synagog in Pittsburgh and killed 11 people. When congregants were allowed back into the sanctuary, they saw blood spatter and brain matter on the walls. The blue in the middle is Chai, the Hebrew word meaning Life. On shabbat, two candles are lit to celebrate the beginning of shabbat. The candleholders – which can be elaborate or simple – are a ceramic pair I made specifically for shabbat candles. The final shot will be taken after dark and with the candles lit. I wanted to get as much of the shot as possible set up in advance.

Yahrzeit

Three years ago, someone I knew killed himself. Tonight begins his yahrzeit – the anniversary of his death. The quilt is one I made in an attempt to make sense of his suicide. I’ll be taking the formal shot after sundown and lighting the yahrzeit candle.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in bipolar disorder, Child abuse, Depression, Emotions, PTSD

In Honor Of The 49th Anniversary of Roe v Wade

I’m alive because abortion was illegal in 1952.

My mother was a violent, drunken narcissist who was single when I was born. Four years later, she married a violent drunk. Although he adopted me, something I didn’t know until I was 34, he never forgot I was someone else’s kid. I’m told to be grateful The Drunk gave me a name – the same name of a Nazi war criminal who was tried and executed by the British. The Drunk and the Nazi were related – both by blood and by hateful ideology.

My mother and The Drunk had three children – none of which my mother wanted and she made sure we knew we were unwanted. By the time I was 10, I had myself and three siblings to raise. I didn’t do a very good job; children aren’t capable of raising children. Don’t tell me to be grateful for a childhood in hell.

I endured 16 years of child abuse hell which resulted in bipolar disorder. The first time I tried to kill myself, I was 11. The last of six suicidal episodes was the fall of 2019. I live in terror that there will be another episode and eventually, an episode will kill me. Don’t tell me to be grateful.

When I was 25, I put myself through college and earned degrees in journalism and biology – even though I wasn’t allowed to take any math or science classes in high school. When I was 38, I put myself through law school.

50 years after marrying and leaving a home run by a pair of violent drunks, I still have complex PTSD. I still have flashbacks. After many years of therapy, the flashbacks are annoying rather than debilitating as they were 50 years ago. There is no cure for complex PTSD and I will have flashbacks as long as I live. Don’t tell me to be grateful for a lifetime of internal hell.

I’d have been better off if my mother had had an abortion.

Think about that the next time you want to condemn a pregnant woman to motherhood.

Posted in Fiber, Peripheral neuropathy, Photography, Sewing

Progress???

I’m still decluttering and organizing the sewing room. It seems as if I get one spot clean, and the mess moves to another spot. 

I’m finding odds and ends of fabric and I’ve an idea how to use those. The city of Las Cruces has a new ordinance – no single use plastic bags. If a vendor puts your purchases into a paper bag, the vendor must charge 10 cents per bag. Then the vendor must give 5 cents from each bag to the city. Eventually, I’ll go back to setting up at the Farmers Market. I don’t want to keep a second set of books to record how many paper bags and then fill out extra forms to give the city a nickel per bag. The solution: fabric bags. Bags will be assorted sizes. Either buy my art and don’t expect a fabric bag free of charge, buy a bag along with my art, buy just a bag, or bring a bag with you. I’m considering making some larger bags and sewing zippered pockets onto the bag. It’s nice not to have to fish for your car keys after shopping. Just find the zippered pocket. Some bags will be muslin. Some bags will be upholstery fabric. Some bags will have some sort of applique made from small odds and ends of fabric. More than 10 years ago, a friend bought one of my fancier upholstery bags to give to her granddaughter. That bag went through high school, college, and is now going through grad school. 

I have been doing a bit of photography. Last night, there was a smiling moon and I’ve been wanting to shoot a smiling moon. Ideally, I would have used my 150-600mm zoom lens and a tripod. Instead, I had a neuropathy flare up. CBD massage oil, CBD oil put into a capsule, gabapentin and marijuana. I wasn’t as steady on my feet as I would have liked and I don’t want to destroy my photography gear. Instead, I used my 18-400mm zoom lens and skipped the tripod. I’m not in love with this shot, but I’m not disappointed, either. 

Art is a reliable way to kill neuropathy pain, so I’ve been doing some shooting when I’m in pain. That gave me golden hour shots and some sunset shots. 

This one was taken about 45 minutes before sundown. These are the Dona Ana Mountains about six miles behind my house. One of these days, I need to go hiking in these mountains. They are actually part of the caldera of a very long-dead volcano.

I’ve been playing with my photos again and will eventually turn these photos into fabric designs. 

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Brady, Fiber, Photography, PTSD, Sewing

Decluttering. Organizing. Cleaning.

Sewing room decluttering, organizing, and deep cleaning continues. I found three incredibly dusty thread organizers I had forgotten I had. This is good because I have more thread than the new thread organizers I bought can hold. I’m putting together a box of goodies to be donated to a thrift store. I’ve kept the wooden thread spools because of memories. My grandfather would hammer four nails into the top of an empty wooden thread spool and I’m make yarn ropes. This was a way to keep me occupied, and I thought they were wonderful toys. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with the spools, but I can’t bring myself to throw them out. Some memories need to be kept.

I’ve put 84 new deigns into my Spoonflower shop including several whole cloth designs. You can find them here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

We’ve had some wild weather the last few days and I photographed the storm blowing in and the resulting rain and mountain eating fog. 

Brady is now 35 pounds. Jim took her to the shop and let her zoom. Here, she’s taking a brief rest. She’s got boundless energy. She plays hard, then she sleeps hard to prepare for the next zoom.

PTSD sometimes takes a while to appear. I’m now having flashbacks from the hell I went through at the public defender office from February 2007 to November 12, 2015 when I retired. I’ll have to work on this with my psychologist. I believe flashbacks are my brain’s way of indicating that I can now process the emotions I had during the trauma. I get tired of the flashbacks. I lived through the crap once and I’ve no desire to live through it a second time.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My online store, Deb Thuman Art, is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Fiber, Memories, Quilts, Sewing, Undies

Deep Cleaning My Memories

It’s time to deep clean the sewing room. I thought I would be able to donate a fair amount of leftover memories, but the donation box is nearly empty. Some memories I am not ready to part with. 

As I went through boxes, I found things I don’t remember buying – or maybe these things came from my grandmother’s house. She had a massive stroke, and we had to clean out the house before it could be sold. I took all the sewing things. 

I found a small cutting mat that was hidden away. I bought the mat to take with me to a seminar. I could cut leftover fabric for a quilt in my hotel room while waiting to become tired enough to sleep. 

I found fabric from more than 40 years ago. Plaid from a skirt I made when I was in college. I bought a lot of polyester back then, including the plaid from the skirt. I’ve no idea if I still have the skirt. If I do, it won’t fit. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with the leftover plaid. 

Yards and yards and yards of white with sprigs of pink flowers from an attempt to make drapes for a sliding glass door. I’m sure I can make something from this fabric, but I can’t imagine what. Maybe boxers for Jim. 

Fabric from one of the shirts I made for Jim from nearly 20 years ago. I can do something with these scraps. Eventually. 

I found brushed rayon that is left over from a pants suit. Yellow linen look fabric from a dress I made 33 years ago. I’m pretty sure the fabric is polyester, but it’s pretty so I’m keeping it. A bit of raw silk that will make nice lingerie. I want to make bras for myself, so all those little scraps I couldn’t toss out will become bras. Maybe. 

Wooden spools with thread which came from my grandmother’s house. When I was little, my grandfather would put four nails into the top of the spool and I’d make long ropes out of yarn. No idea what, if anything, I ever did with the ropes. But I’ll keep the wood spools. The thread, likely more than 50 years old, isn’t useful anymore. Thread has a shelf life. I’ll do something with the spools. Assuming I can find a use for the miles of rope I’ll make. 

Buttons and buttons and buttons. I took my grandmother’s button box when we cleaned out her house. A good friend sent me at least 10 pounds of buttons. He said the buttons will give me closure. It’s been years since I bought buttons. 

There’s some heavy canvas that would be good for making a purse. Except it’s ecru and boring. Maybe I could add some of the scraps from ancient projects to jazz up the unimaginative fabric. 

There’s some metallic copper stretch fabric that is good for….I’ve no idea. The metallic washes off leaving a dull sort of copper in place of the metallic copper. Originally, I made a sports bra and exercise short from the fabric. I used a some of the left over fabric to make my uterus quilt. Doesn’t everyone have a metallic copper uterus and fallopian tubes? 

I opened a closet that hasn’t been opened for more than 15 years. I found interesting upholstery fabric that will make a nice purse. Or something. I’ll think of a use for it. 

I’ve been collecting vintage knitting and crocheting books for more than 40 years. Now, the pattern books I bought that were cutting edge fashion in 1970 are now vintage. I’ll keep those.  

Wheat colored crochet thread thin enough to make nice doilies. Not that I use doilies. Or I could use it for tatting thread. Assuming I can find the tatting shuttle. 

I found books from a women’s literature class I took in college 44 years ago. I can’t part with those books even though I ran out of bookcase room years ago. Now, I fill up my iPad with e-books. Space saving, but not something I could read from wile soaking in the tub. 

Now that I’ve unpacked the memories, I need to find some sort of plastic tote in which to put them. Then I need to find a place to put the plastic totes. I thought I could put boxes of memories in the closet in my sewing room. But the closet has a weird wall that makes an odd angle on one end of the closet. Not a good place to store boxes of memories. 

Eventually, the memories will go into boxes or storage containers. Then I will forget about them until the next time I need to deep clean my sewing room.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in Beads, Brady, Child abuse, Fiber, Jewelry, Memories, Photography, Quilts

Maybe Making Progress

I’ve been making progress on the spirit dancing quilt. I gave up on using iridescent fabrics because they just didn’t work against a dark background. Instead, I’ve re-designed the quilt and now it’s about dancing in the place where I buried the ghosts. This is one of the trails at Rushford Lake. We had a cottage there. I used to walk these trails every weekend because I needed to get away from my toxic family. One summer, my mother decided to take my siblings out to the lake for the week and left me home to babysit the drunk. I’d spend the day going through cookbooks to find something interesting to make for dinner. Eventually, the drunk would stagger in and announce he had already eaten dinner. I asked my mother if I could go out to the lake with her and my siblings. No. That’s how much she hated me. Later, I discovered that although my siblings and spouses could go to the lake and stay at the cottage, I couldn’t. In 2018, we traveled to Rushford Lake and I buried the ghosts that had haunted me for 50 years. 

I’m not sure if I like what I’ve done so I’m letting the quilt sit for a few days. Frequently, something I thought looked terrible, looked much better the next day. 

Brady looks so innocent when she’s asleep. Usually, I don’t like a photo to be this grainy, but I like how this shot came out. I used my cell phone for this shot. 

I’ve been playing with fabric designs. 

Eventually, these will be in my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

I’ve been playing with beads The blue stones on this necklace are recycled glass.

The pendant on this necklace is agate. Eventually, these will go into my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com

I’m linking with Nina Marie. http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Beads, Depression, Judiasm, Photography

Let The Light Shine

I’ve been working with beads this week. I have more snowflakes. The snowflake frames come in 3.75” and 6”. It’s interesting working with symmetry and finding beads that work well with each other. With necklaces, I use a necklace board that has channels for beads and inch marks to let me know how long the necklace will be. With the snowflake frames, I have to find beads that work well together but still fit on the frame. 

I’m having a hard time photographing the snowflakes. I want a blurred background and the entire snowflake in focus.

This is the setup I used to shoot snowflakes.

Once I get decent photos, I’ll be putting the snowflakes in my store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com

I’ve had some sales of the designs in my Spoonflower shop, https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman It’s exciting to discover people like my designs enough to buy them.

I wanted to test out my new, cataract-free eyes, so I started working with 0/8 seed beads to make a beaded cuff. I haven’t figured out the best strength for reading glasses yet and I’m not able to work well with 0/11 although I’ve been trying. 

This one is made with 11/0 seed beads and it’s not finished.

This one is made with 8/0 beads and it needs a clasp.

Used to be, I’d go into a major depression the third week of November and stay depressed until New Year’s Day. If you had to suffer through holidays with my family, you’d be depressed, too. The screaming. The fighting. The crying. The yelling. For a while, we took off on a vacation over Christmas so we wouldn’t have to spend time with the families. My sister-in-law said we were just running away. Damn straight. 

It’s been a long time since I got depressed in mid-November and stayed depressed. This year, something odd happened. I decided to make Green Stuff. Every Thanksgiving, my mother would make Green Stuff. It was the only enjoyable part of holiday dinners. It took a while to find a recipe. It’s a lime Jell-o salad with whipped cream and crushed pineapple. I wanted to make it on Thanksgiving, but I forgot to tell Jim to buy whipped cream. He went grocery shopping today and discovered three stores are out of heavy cream. He bought a can of Red-I Whip so he could make puppaccinos for Brady. I’ll be using Red-I Whip in place of whipped cream. I think it’s a sign of significant healing that I want to make Green Stuff this year. 

I’m still suffering from malaise. I printed out a Seamwork pattern, taped the pages together to form one big pattern. Now, I have to transfer the pattern to an interfacing that has a grid on it. Or not. Maybe I’ll live dangerously and just cut out the paper pattern. I’ve marked the lines for my size. I want to make this loose, oversized dress so I will have a cover up for when I model nude. Can’t very well walk naked down the hallway to get to the ladies’ room. 

Hanukkah starts tonight. My favorite Hanukkah store comes from an article I wrote many years ago. I wrote an article about Judaic collectibles for AntiqueWeek. I visited a museum in one of the larger temples in Buffalo, NY. Among the fascinating objects was a small menorah. During WWII, a soldier took a tin that had held K-rations and 9 bullet casings. He attached the casings to the inside of the tin to make a menorah. Hanukkah celebrates the triumph of a small band of Jewish soldiers who vanquished Antiochus IV and re-took the temple.  During a time when Hitler was trying to wipe out all the Jews in Europe, a Jewish soldier celebrated Hanukkah. 

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Beads, Fiber, Quilts

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

That sound you hear is me banging my head on the table. There’s a quilt I’ve been wanting to make for the last 14 years. I had a vision where I saw my spirit dancing in a forest. My spirit was a magnificent, shimmering being. Finally, I got the right background – one of my photographs of the woods where I buried the ghosts. I had gotten a sheer fabric that I thought would work – but I bought the fabric before I had the background worked out. Naturally, the fabric I bought looks awful with the background. Now, I get to audition fabric. My stash is huge. You’d think the perfect fabric would jump out of the storage bin, but that’s not happening. So far, I’ve found at least a half dozen fabrics that absolutely will not work. I’ve picked out one that has possibilities, but I need to let it sit on top of the background for a day or so in order to know if it works or not. I do have a batik – white with pale blue design. It looked wrong. If I use what I’m auditioning, I’ll need to add beads so it looks more or less shimmery.

Meanwhile, I went to print out a pattern for a dress (already designed and bought the fabric). #$%$%*(!!! printer is out of ink. I went to the Canon website (after checking and seeing amazon and Best Buy had the same price) and ordered ink. What a PITA! I had to keep going back because the form said I did something wrong. Eventually I managed to order the ink. Which won’t arrive for about 3 days.

So here I am. The wrong fabric. The printer out of ink. And all I got done is to draw out the template for the dancer to be appliqued onto the quilt.

I can only manage to make three snowflakes per day. More than that and my head explodes. These are all in my store, Deb Thuman Art here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com

Posted in Beads, Brady, Jewelry, Photography

Art

My eyesight is getting better each day. My right eye is 20/25 and my left eye is 20/30. Before cataract surgery, my vision was worse than 20/200. It’s interesting having to learn to take off my glasses when I need to see distance and to put on my glasses when I need to see things up close. 

I now have a pair of reading glasses, each with a beaded string, in my office, my sewing room, the living room (so I can knit while watching TV) and in my purse. And I have a pair of decent sunglasses. Used to be, I had bifocals, computer glasses, and sunglasses for distance only. 

I’ve been working with watercolor pencils and watercolor crayons to make backgrounds for fabric designs. I like how the colors blend when I brush water over the paper. Spoonflower had a sale and free shipping so I ordered proofs for 84 designs. Several of the designs are whole cloth designs to be added to the whole cloth designs already in my Spoonflower shop here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Setting up at the Farmers & Craft Market isn’t an option. Jim is getting physical therapy for the repair to a torn rotator cuff and a torn bicep. EZ-Up is a misnomer. It doesn’t go up easy, and it requires two people to set it up. Then weights have to be attached to each corner to keep the EZ-Up from becoming a Flying-Up. Jim doesn’t have full range of motion in his arm yet. Instead, I’ll be adding things to my store, Deb Thuman Art, each week. My store is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

I made some snowflakes. I bought some small frames and some large frames. These are made with the small frames. I also made a beaded string for reading glasses. The snowflakes and beaded string will be going into my store in the next couple days. I need to figure out pricing. It’s interesting trying to find a price point where I make a profit, but I haven’t priced the piece so high that few people would be interested in buying the piece. No, I haven’t figured out a magic formula.

Brady held still long enough for me to focus the camera. She’s eight months old and weighs 33 pounds.

I shot the sunset the other day.

Jim went to a thrift store and came home with a Nordic Ware snowman cake pan. $6.00. I feel a pound cake coming on.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: http://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com