craft

Back when life was simple, I used to spend school breaks on my grandparent's farm. My grandmother would keep me and my sister busy by enrolling us in knitting projects. She worked in the local college and I have memories of sitting in the lobby knitting and purling my way to a pair of slippers. Evenings would be spent under Scottish wool blankets watching TV with my grandmother's clickity clacket knitting ticking off the stitches hummed in the background.

I don't know why I dropped it all these years later. I wish I hadn't though. I could have used something to do with my "devil makes work for idle" hands. I think it was a lack of really cool yarn shops and the non development of bamboo needles. But knitting and crafting has had a resurgence. Knit groups are popping up. Shops with great names like

Purl- NYC
The Knit Cafe- Toronto
Three Bags Full- Vancouver
Lettuce Knit- Toronto

Ewe get the picture... Knitting is cool again and Alpaca is the new wool. What's behind it? I don't know. I desire to get a few steps back from the complexities of 21st century life? I think so maybe. Most of life is quite immediate. Cell phone, emails, texts, the Internet- it all keeps us plugged in to info and ideas in an immediate time frame. Knitting is like meditation with motion and in the end you get a pair of mittens.

And so, I signed up for a class and the next ting I know- 3 weeks later, I've mastered the cast on, cast off, knit, purl, stocking stitch, seed stick, ribbed stitch, basket weave and now circular knitting. I have 3 new pairs of knitting needles and $100 in yarn and now all I want for Christmas is socks.. lessons that is. It was the best thing I've done and I'm enjoying it and every now and then I can transport myself to the living room on the farm and that special air and quiet except for my grandmother's clickity clackets.

congregation

congregation, originally uploaded by jilly71.

I'm very excited to be planning my next photo show at the neighborhood hang out..  Pane Vero Cafe on Commercial Drive. The plan is January. All my lovely prairie photos and maybe an art installation.

just hit the puck in the net

 I'd busted my ass over something. I think I remember it vaguely.. I was about 10. We'd been instructed in school to decorate a shoebox for a picnic. The idea was to pack a lunch in your decorated shoe box and some lucky fella would pick your shoe box and the sun would shine through the clouds on a biblical day while you ate your lunch on the grass while blue birds chirped in your ears.

My grandiose plans didn't come to fruition and I was let down and disappointed. I think it set an early tone for the concept of goals. What was the point of setting them if for all your hopes and dreams and skills they didn't come true? An early experience coupled with the instinctive reaction of "what's the point" set deep into a brain chasm.. "well.. that was pointless". 

Sounds dreadful and dire doesn't it. I suppose I was a rather dreadful and dour child as well. But it set a tone for the concept of goals.. "Don't you have goals Jill?". I'm not kidding- I would feel perplexed by the MEANING of the word 'goal'. Like it was a touchdown. A goal? A score? 1 point for me, 0 for ....I remember being asked.. "where would you like to be in 5 years or 10 years" and I literally thought at a young age.. how can you even decide that.. what's the point when a car could speed around a corner and schmuck you.

I'm afraid since some pivotal moment of early failure.. I've put off the concept of "goals". I have to restructure it in my head as a "I'll try this out for a while" concept. As thought, if I put a period to the sentence, I'll erase the paragraph.

Nonetheless- I understand the concept of working towards something, albeit vaguely and I give it a go now and then.

Today is Nov 1. I'm trying out a few things. I'll tell you about them later. For now.. Idea #1- is to participate in National Blog Posting Month.

time capsule

It was 1940 and the German's were marching toward Paris and the war was coming. She was the granddaughter of a courted actress and apparently kept herself by a wealthy older suitor.

She lived in her grandmother's, Marthe de Florian, apartment and kept it in the same style as her grandmother had lived in it in 1890. She locked the door to the apartment, located near Pigale and fled to the south of France where she remained, and never having returned to Paris. Why did she never go back? Who paid the bills? Who were her neighbours, never wondering what lay beyond the door that was never opened.

The woman died recently, at the age of 91. Her apartment details found amongst her estate. When the door was finally opened, for the first time 71 years later, they remarked it was like stumbling into Sleeping Beauty's home.

70 years of dust covered the exquisite furniture and belongings, all now antiques. Found amongst the belongings, was a painting of her grandmother, which happened to be by 19th century Italian artist Giovanni Boldini- which happened to fetch €2.1 million at auction.

 Isn't that incredible?

I guess the mystery will unfold..


Here's the story..

Raise your arms for victory.. drink to love, drink to me.

The Black Harbor present: DM Stith "Thanksgiving Moon" from ISHOTHIM on Vimeo.

So, quite lovely. Don't you agree?

still a favorite photo

Dirt River, originally uploaded by jilly71.

apronstrings

Zom G. has left a new comment on your post "the convenience of adult life has spoiled me":

"This is such a lovely blog and I am excited to see where your new direction takes you. I was looking for hints and tips to drafting a floor-length apron pattern, but am quite happy to have found the story of your mythical dress instead. Will google-wonders never cease?"

Thanks for the lovely comment. Come back often.. The magic of the mythical apron dress continues.. 
Jillx

thinking ahead for spring

Mourning the loss of the mythical apron dress..I've been looking at linen dresses on Etsy. I don't usually go in for muying clothes off the internet because you can't really tell if they'll suit you or fit you but I'm chancing my luck on 2 relatively inexpensive and gorgeous linen pieces to mend my apron dress broken heart.

Dress 1 is called Cheste Pleated and has 2 side pockets and a funky hemline. 1 size fits all- sounds good. It's clever and pretty and color choices of apricot, purple, silver or grass (pictured). I opted for silver because grey is my favorite color. I figure it'll be good if I go back to Cuba.

Dress #2 is a long shirt dress with shoulder pleats. I'm not crazy about the pale blue color so I figure it's light enough to dye a darker shade if I want to.

Both are organic linen, handmade, from this seller..NewExtrave. The total for the 2 + shipping was less than $150. I figure I'd get as much use as the long lost apron dress.. at least. I'm sure they'll fit.

that's a lotta tea

I like something that I would vaguely described as Canadiana. Some sort of farm kitchz vibe that I surround my self with. Now don't get me wrong, I don't like to surround my self with everything I see.. I'm pretty choosy. Has to kind of be the thing I might never see again and somehow reminds me of Rural Canada. In the last few years, chickadees and tiny birds are a fondness

Not so long ago, I took a trip with my mom to one of my favorite small towns- Nanton, Alberta- south of Calgary by an hour or so and full of antique shops. I can scour them for hours. Just as we were leaving we saw one last one.. Lope. I spotted this one little porcelain bird figurine. It tuned out the women had a ice cream bucket of them.

Like Tetley Tea figurines, the little birds came from a tea box- Tender Leaf Teas from the 1960's. Buy a box of tea and get a free tea bird. Fantastic idea. There were 30 of them in total. But this women at Lope stood them all up and I pondered my choices.. at $8 each, I had to be choosy. I picked my favorite 7 and bartered her down to $35.

Well, I couldn't get the little birds out of my head.. so I called the store, and a few emails later..  now I have 26 little bird figurines..

did you shave your beard?

You seem different somehow.. or is it just me? Do you like the changes?

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel..

I found this tonight while going through old folders.. It was the best $639.66 US I ever spent.

Granville Island buskers

in a pickle, originally uploaded by jilly71.

the convenience of adult life has spoiled me

A long time ago.. I could do a bunch of things I don't really know how to do now.. I could knit a pair of slippers (with the watchful eye of the best grandmother anyone could ever have). I had successful runs at cinnamon buns and fresh brown baked bread but had the assistance of said grandmother. (But she had a  magical kitchen with prairie sun and farm washed tea towels that did something special to yeast, sugar, milk eggs and flour.)

I could follow a sewing pattern thanks to the best mom one could ever have who taught me how to thread a sewing machine and I remember distinctly her patience with a apron pattern cut from brown paper brought home from Girl Guides. Learning to crotchet, darn, and embroider comes naturally when you come from a family with nimble fingers. Having constant access to knitting needles, yarn, sewing machines, needles, pots and pans and support was idyllic when you think of teenagers today.What happened to my skills?

Somewhere along the lines.. I realized I couldn't knit a pair of mittens if I wanted to. I tried to crotchet socks.. they lay unfinished in the back of a craft cupboard with way too many balls of yarn (I decided once I would make an afghan.) I could also buy 4 yards of fabric and a pattern but would then loose patience with the confusion of what exactly a salvage is. If I had to make bread from scratch on a dare it would end up like paper mache and if someone asked me to make jam, I'd probably freeze and stare wide eyed into the horizon and pretend I didn't hear you.

So, I've decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak.

This weekend, I'll be taking a one day course in sewing. The project is a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms. I bought a perfect green, red, blue, and yellow striped cotton (no- it'll look festive on dark rainy mornings) and enrolled myself at Vancouver's latest "sewing lab"- Spool of Thread.I figured 2 legs, a crotch seam and some hems and I'd be back in action.

Later, every Thursday night for 4 weeks, I'll be at Three Bags Full every Thursday learning how to cast on, knit, purl and will walk away with a hat or a scarf. I choose red yarn and wooden knitting needled. It will go well with the jaunty striped pajama pants.

Beyond that, I'll go back to the one other thing I learned on the farm..I'll learn how to drive, just not a car. But someone stop me if I go riding in my new "outfit".

The story of the Linen Apron Dress

Once a long while ago before I had a savings account that had more than 1 month's rent, I still used to be able to tie two pennies together and spin myself a nifty living. I worked in a laundry factory as a mender sewing holes and patches and buttons all day long. I clocked in at 7:29 and clocked out at 3:31. I had a neat apartment with a fireplace, hardwood floors, a cat, a bike and bus pass. I was marginally happy, I suppose, being a factory girl when other people my age were going to university and thinking about "the future".

Me and my 2 pennies kept each other company and every now and then we'd have a little fun. One day I saw this dress. This amazing dress. It was about $100 which was alot of pennies to me at the time. But it was so special. It was blue linen and floor length, but it wrapped around at the waist with a bib apron and a bare back, with cross the back straps and a long wrap tie. I was rib cage thin back then. I loved that dress. I tried it on and I couldn't bear the thought of leaving the store without it. My 2 pennies and that dress had a chat in the change room and we all decided we were going to be friends.

I wore that dress with a secret glamor, like I had Cinderella's ID in my pocket. I put that dress on with a white tshirt and sneakers and a rainbow was my sidewalk- you get the point. That dress was powerful. Years later I carefully rolled it and packed it in my 3rd hand backpack to Europe when I thought I should only take things I wouldn't mind loosing because they would get stolen in the sketchy hostels I was headed to.  I took a chance with that dress, I'll tell you. I guarded my back pack with my life and that dress doubled as a pillow on many occasions.

I remember one day in Paris after many days of a scruffy wayward traveller look, I wore it and went exploring. I'd tied the waist straps criss-cross up my waist like a corset and put on a beret. I was walking up some steps at the Louvre and feeling like a fashion model that hadn't been discovered when the wind caught the wrap around panel and I walked long giraffe strides across the plaza. Further enhancing the spectacle, there were 2 guys walking directly behind me and and I was so aware of how fabulous I must have looked! While I never turned to look at them- I could overhear them speaking delicious warm croissant French words. I've always lingered on that memory believing they were talking about my fabulous dress. They were you know. Anybody who saw that dress would have talked about it in whispers woven with gold.

One day, after enjoying the dress for many years, I decided I was clever enough to have 2. In a disastrous turn of events, the awesomeness of those stitches evaporated. Before I could stop myself,  I snipped the seams until each panel and piece was separate from the other. The crime scene on my bedroom floor, you can sense I'm sure. Like an explosion in slow motion. The bib of the dress decapitated from the apron, the hems spilt open and frayed. It was a fool thing to do  and I new I would never make a copy of the original.

I was dismayed, devastated and discouraged. I carefully folded up the parts and wrapped them up. I promised myself I would put the arms and legs back on the doll one day and she would come back to life. In grief- I kept myself busy doing other things, never fully admitting I had not the skills to accomplish the task. One day I came upon those pieces of navy blue linen with frayed ends and mismatched pieces that I couldn't quite figure out what I had done or how to fix it and figured.. you know "It's time to move on." and "You can't keep hanging onto these scraps." It was a bad time of purge and I threw them away.

That was 13 years ago and I still lament the loss of dress. I frequently search- often late at night- through Google- for  some variation of "linen apron dress" in hopes of finding it again. I should maybe add the word "mythical". Not one picture of me exists in the dress and I've never seen it again. I still mourn for the $100 Linen Apron Dress to where I'm thinking me and a few of my penny friends might visit a professional dress maker/ crime scene sketch artist and send out a search party for my long lost comrade.

Here's a picture that looks not really like the the dress but a clue to it's one day recovery. (Or the day I dress up like a wash maiden from the 20's- which I suppose it what I looked like that day in Paris..)

new things to look at

I've updated my sidebar links.. look left.. to have a lot of the websites that I linger around trying to stir up the inspirtation ot open the craft cupboard. I hope you like them.

feeling a bit neglected

I'm sorry about that. It's shameful how time has passed while I mulled over an update and then said.. oh tomorrow. Suddenly tomorrow was a long time ago. Which is kind of been my feeling lately. I'm plagued by thoughts that I'm not having as much fun.. I'm not enjoying myself as much as I should be.

Just the other day I was testing gravity and my clumsy factor by jumping between garages behind my parent's house. Talking about the Cult and having water fights with friends.

Friends- I was throwing parties in my parent's basement and hiding the booze and waving the pot smoke away. I was throwing parties. I think the last time I did that was in junior high or early high school.

I think about my childhood alot lately and how far away it was and how I used to think.. one day I'll be all grown up and I don't know.. something *magical* would have happened. Something would have fallen into place and the phase I was "going through" would be over. You know and life would look like it did on TV. I'd be an adult and it would all make sense.That doesn't really happen. I think we just forget what we thought was so confusing.

So.. yeah time is slipping away every day. I'll try and start documenting it again.

I've missed you too.








 

Dorothy, Alberta

prairie landscape, originally uploaded by jilly71.

She said.."he whispers to you in your dreams." I suspect that's why I like to go to sleep.

July 8 1965, originally uploaded by jilly71.

i took this photo from a parachute.. wha? TOTALLY AMAZING

DSC00400, originally uploaded by jilly71.

bird's view

I jumped tandem out of a plane today. We went through a cloud and then I saw the ground 10000 feet away. It was incredible. Then I got to take a photo of my feet. That circle.. that's where we landed. Totally amazing.. totally exhausting.