Secret Lentil Deconstructed / Reconstructed Clothing

lookbook!

2011-08-01T15:31:00.000-04:00

follow meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2011-06-05T12:34:00.000-04:00

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it works

2011-05-20T05:47:00.000-04:00

It Works!

A friend stopped by the studio this week with the gift of a mini toy sewing machine from the 60's.

It got me thinking about icons. I avoid representation in my work but oh, sewing machines ... it's hard to resist the lure of adoring them, isn't it? I do love them. They are so simple and good. Danny Mansmith gets it, of course.

Danny Mansmith's "The Waiting Spirits"

The mere act of lashing one slice of fabric to another with thread is small and large at the same time, the stuff of metaphor and art and I don't think I'll ever get sick of it. What else would the daughter of a machinist and a home-ec teacher do? Well, after trying everything else first, ha ha.

"This is my life's work." - Andy Goldsworthy, after a pile of rocks fell over, again.

2011-05-10T09:14:00.003-04:00

Studio morning so far.

Wasted time on facebook, drank coffee.

Stared at the ceiling for a while under the premise of stretching my neck.

Why I need a premise when I'm here alone is another story.

Now I turn to this:

I'm not really sure what it is.

Well it's a dress, and it's black.

But I've draped and carved it in a way I've never worked before,

using seams and pleats and paring it down from a large piece of fabric, just like I used to carve fish out of bars of Ivory Soap when I was a kid. It's spare, refined, minimalist, stark, mysterious. I like it.

It's almost done. I don't know yet if it works. It's scary and exciting, in the way that our work scares and excites us: everything is on the line. Nothing is on the line.

we also saw a snapping turtle in the park but i didn't get a picture of it

2011-04-24T12:33:00.000-04:00

hole in the park road that will have a speedbump anchored to it soon.

"Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself. - Katherine Hepburn

otoshiana and the hovering

2011-04-22T12:18:00.000-04:00

Please appreciate that I don't have my camera. This is me taking a picture by hovering the laptop over the cutting table. Thank you for your consideration.

At this moment I'm making my first otoshiana from Pattern Magic. That's a fancy word for a sculpted hole. And when I say "from" what I mean is, I didn't read the instructions or measure anything or do the prep part by making one out of paper, I just stared at the pictures then started cutting out my own. If I have my way it will end up in a skirt. If I don't you'll never hear about it again.

Speaking of never, and never saying it, I picked up my copy of The Sound of Paper by Julia Cameron yesterday - not to read, but to toss into the giveaway pile. Then I opened it up and read this line: "Artists love other artists. And part of what we love is their courage." Of course I instantly thought of all the wonderful support other artists have offered to me this week, just because I opened up enough to talk about my petty struggles. And this courage has been, in a way I didn't quite have words for, what I love about so many other makers (of all sorts) and what they do - their willingness to show up, and to not only make, but to actually push their creations out into the world. Once you start taking these chances yourself, respect for others and humility blooms in all directions. Yay. I need to remember this connection.

So ... I'm going to read it! I never quite clicked with The Artist's Way. When I found it it didn't address my resistance enough to keep my attention. I never like saying that out loud because so many other people dig it, but I'll start with this book and who knows, maybe back slowly up to that one too.

This was not an ad for Amazon dot com. It just came out this way.

so I thought, I've already embarrassed myself on the internet, why not share a poem I wrote?

2011-04-18T06:00:00.000-04:00

Around The House
by Helen Carter

with thanks to Billy Collins

While Mr. Collins sails alone around the room
I chase myself through my house.

Growing larger as I run - I only inhale -
from room to room I plod,
duck through doorways, careen off shaking walls,
flat feet pounding the worn wooden floors,
the ceiling fan now a garland in my hair.

Once I thought I had myself cornered
in the dust behind the furnace. And once I lunged at a blur of light
behind the shower curtain. Both times I fell.

I pass the baton to my other hand and pick up pace,
now even the dog, who will chase his own tail until he falls over
sees no point in this race
and lies down on the futon, idly counting laps.

I know what the buddha said
about the ten thousand things:
they are as they are.
But he has never been over to my place,
let alone climbed the stairs to my attic.

There he would find me,
fully inflated, finally still, exhausted,
sneaker filling the stairwell, neck bent oddly,
one giant pouting eye
blinking out through the louvered window,
noting the weeds in the garden, thinking
I’ve never been as cute as Alice,
thinking my head has grown too large to rest in his hands,
still thinking I will win next time ...
almost tired enough to exhale
before inhaling again.

His fingers find the hanging string and he puts out the light,
squeezing past my foot and silently down the stairs.
In the hall, the dogs thunk their tails as he passes,
not even bothering to lick his knees;
they know he is only walking over to my desk
as he does every day
to sit by the lamp and wait for me to wake up.

helen doesn't work here any more.

2011-04-17T09:03:00.000-04:00


paper pods in the studio

It's a clear gorgeous morning and I'm in the studio, with fresh crisp air coming in the window, and I'm drinking cold leftover tea. I made some paper pods yesterday from a ream of cheap crummy graph paper that I just got from a scary store full of crap. I really like it. It smells like glue. I have to remind myself to play. How sad is that? I continue my fight against treating myself like an employee - how long will it take to undo this? Can it be undone?

do not disturb

2011-03-29T17:05:00.000-04:00

Today in the studio ... I spent the day blissfully sculpting a wool vest - and I used the first precious roundrabbit stoneware button.

cutting black

2011-03-19T08:14:00.002-04:00

"For something to be beautiful it doesn’t have to be pretty." - Rei Kawakubo

.... from the "I have the best customers in the world" department

2011-03-10T07:01:00.000-05:00

Carole H. just let me know she's going through the Panama Canal this morning wearing her Secret Lentil skirt, and gave me the link to the live webcam so I can look for her. I love my people.

today in the studio ... wool pods

2011-03-04T11:43:00.001-05:00

Felting wool sweaters isn't a science ... well - if it is, I am not a scientist - and sometimes the poor dears turn out so thick that there's no way I can run two layers of them through my serger. So I've been collecting these orphans - first unwanted and then altogether too shrunked-up - and today I'm carving some into a few pod-shaped bags.

It's satisfying work to piece these together and do a little freeform stitching - and the near silence of the old Adler is a nice change from the constant hum of the commercial serger motor.

Mr. Lentil is taking some pictures later, after he makes lunch for us, so I should have some new work up on the website tonight ... or tomorrow if time won't bend to our will.

peacocks and progress

2011-02-22T11:09:00.000-05:00

1. My feature in Syracuse University's Connective Corridor newsletter came out today.
2. I've been busy and productive. No, they aren't always the same thing! It's a banner moment when I need to refill the tag jar and order thread in the same week. Good times.
3. I just made a Peacock skirt. Here's a sneak preview.

husk redux

2011-01-20T07:32:00.000-05:00

Return of the Layering Husk - back by popular demand! I got sick of them after a while but apparently other people didn't. So I gave the design a bit of an overhaul: lowered the dropped waist a bit more and shortened up the petals, flattened all the seams on the top half and added bias tape trim (oh, bias tape, how I love thee) to the neck and arms.

Now I like them too and we can all live happily ever after ... until I get bored again. This one is made from deep charcoal wool suiting - lightweight and floaty but an austere color - pretty much perfect in my book.

This one is on my website. More shall follow.

winter kitchen, winter reading

2010-12-20T21:40:00.000-05:00

Tonight's photo shoot is courtesy of my kitchen. When we first installed our Joe Strummer lightswitch my friend Jeff leaned toward it, squinted, and said "Yes, that's good, you want to have it where you can see it every day." He was right.

I bought myself some books. I just gave away my copy of Art and Fear but not before replacing it with a new copy plus another for another artist friend. It's the best book ever. I read parts of it every day. It's hard to explain why - it's so basic that it's difficult to describe. Not self help-y, but very helpful. It's simple and direct and puts everything in the right place.

I also chose The View From The Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way In An Uncertain World as it's written by one of the writers of Art and Fear. And then I went berserk and got Twyla Tharp's The Creative Habit (darn you Amazon and your free shipping) on the the premise that I just might be mature enough now to learn from someone so disciplined. I know, I'm laughing too. I'll let you know.

hold my calls.

2010-12-15T16:47:00.000-05:00

Zena in last week's snowstorm.

The never-ending stupid anxieties of self-employment are partially tempered by my ability to declare a snow day before it even starts. Tomorrow is already canceled.

Actually it will be a work from home day. Mr. Lentil took a bunch of pictures of my newest work, so I already measured everything and have a whole heap of new clothes and handwarmers to list on my website, as well as all the ingredients for apple crisp. I'll be wearing my slippers and drinking too much coffee, and after everything is listed, working on some new designs. Take that, snow. Now all I have to do is get home in it tonight.

"Uh-Oh, I've lost a button-hole." - Steven Wright

2010-11-17T11:38:00.001-05:00

Okay, so here I am with Nancy Schindler of RoundRabbit last month at the Salt City Urban Arts & Crafts Market. She's curly, I'm fat. But enough about us - what you want to know about is the buttons. I got all worked up a while back because she was making some special earthenware, exclusively Nancy-style large chunky buttons just for me to use ... and she brought them to the show ... drumroll please:

I know, I know. I'm excited too. Plus in the last wave of moving my studio I found the bin with the vintage mens' suits ... some of them match these and as soon as I'm past my holiday push I'll commence to chopping them up and rebuilding them into some vest-jackets and coats featuring these highly coveted buttons.

I swear, each one is lickable. But I have not licked them.

Just call me Tom Sawyer ...

2010-11-14T14:57:00.000-05:00

It's Sunday, I have great friends, some leftover wine, a lifetime supply of rubber-stamped pricetags and an awesome heap of hand-painted and stenciled bags.

I put an offer up on facebook to see if anyone wanted to come in and get messy in my studio. It was a full house and a raucous fun time.

My friends are nice people and very earnest workers. Please admire the concentration. Margaret, Norm.

Sue, Phil, Colleen.

I hope I shelved my control issues well enough and that we're still buddies. I think I did. Norm, Sara, Sue, Phil.

Lisa shows off the finished product. Her stenciling prowess is now known and revered by all. Ta-da!

Dear 221, No one will ever love you as much as I do ...

2010-10-11T15:46:00.000-04:00

So I'm moving to a new studio. Just down the hall from mine. I've been on a list for a while, and it turns out that the space I'm getting is better than I imagined, both for creativity (nice shape, nice light, good colors) and for practicality (better heat and AC options, more windows that open, near nicer bathrooms!)

Well I'm not good at waiting. This morning as I got dressed I realized I was already picturing arriving at the new studio. You should see how neat and organized it was! But sadly there are still other people working in there. The nerve. So I swept by and took a quick picture. It's blurry because I'm not a very good stalker. At the end of the month 221 is all mine.

Beams in the hall. I love this old warehouse.

self portrait of the artist thinking real hard-like.

2010-10-08T14:46:00.002-04:00

Here is me a few days ago. I'm working on a super avant gardey black sculpted vest that has about, oh, 8 gazillion pieces and at this point they were all trying to fit together gracefully on my dress form. Apparently when I need to concentrate I clamp my hand over my mouth! Coincidence? I think not.

I'm wearing my bracelet from Michelle Darin that I just got to match my newish morel mushroom necklace from Kirsten Skiles. AND my scarf, which was a gift from Carina at feydesigns. Hurray for great handmade stuff and the people who make it.

Today I turn 46.

"'Love → Building on Fire' is sometimes represented on the internet using the title 'Love Goes To Building on Fire.'"

2010-10-04T08:40:00.000-04:00

I'm not one of those perpetually slender design / architecture people with inexplicably overpriced eyeglasses who knows about buildings. A cornice might be a small chicken. I nod when people refer to soffits while I am frantically building a vague formless concept that they are some ... thing ... that might be up in a corner. That's about all I've got. I may know the names of three architects. No wait - four, since a new friend is the grand-daughter of one. I made note of his name in case I get to pretend I know about him in future conversations.

But I was compelled to watch Visual Acoustics: The Modernism of Julius Shulman because I secretly wanted it to help me figure out why I like those modern houses. You know the ones. The concrete slabs, floor-to-vaulted-ceiling windows, gaping spaces, the vague formless owners, always off camera, who seem to survive on a great view and little more - people who somehow have so much money that they don't seem to need anything. I want to mock them but also I am sucked in, maybe by the myth of a neat simple life or mind or as someone in the movie said, by the idea of a "private utopia." I could fall for that for a long time.

"Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?" Well yes, a few times a day, but I'm sort of used to it. I just don't trust vague formless desires that I coincidentally share with so many other people I don't know. Heck, I don't even like some of them. I don't believe there is magic behind it. I don't think we share collective unconscious desires as much as we all grew up looking at the same pictures in the same magazines at the dentist's office and as it turns out Julius Shulman probably took those pictures. So maybe what we really liked was the photography of Julius Shulman. And I do. But those houses ...

There were a few other simple clues that helped me piece this together. The movie talked about how these architects worked. They used existing landscapes and incorporated the houses into the hills, the rocks, the desert, so that they were a part of their surroundings. They used readily available affordable materials and worked with them in inventive ways. Hey, I do that too! Okay, so that connection makes sense. Also, I am easily overwhelmed. I like things that are neat and simple because they help calm my brain. I like details to have a purpose. Ornament wears me out. So add that to the list.

It's not that I feel like I have to pick desire apart until it bends to my logic and begs for mercy. But I do think that as someone raised in an unprecedented land of consumer whoredom I can be served by tracing my desires back to basics. Or at least I can try. There is value in peeling through the layers of memories and magazines to the simple act of naming what it is I like and why I like it.

Right now this liking is part of a bigger thing I'm working on. I can only sum it up as: I like spaces and I think about them a lot. I could draw you a map of the street fair I went to yesterday, or the machine shop my father owned when I was a kid, with its paneling and secretaries' desks, drafting tables and Royal Palm soda machine in back of the loud floor full of machinists and their machines. Are you like that too? I don't think everyone is. (And at this moment I'm trying not to mention that my spouse can't find his way out of the mall.) Thinking about spaces helps me locate myself in the world and hold my self together at the same time it connects me to the larger scheme of things. It helps me move forward to create new things, even when those things are dresses and sweaters instead of houses. It's one of the ways I make order out of chaos. Well okay then! Mystery solved. On with my day.

“Each morning when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure - that of being Salvador Dali.” - Salvador Dali

2010-10-01T08:21:00.000-04:00

I haven't yet awakened as Salvador Dali but if I do you'll be the first to know.

Actually I haven't looked in the mirror yet, so who knows?

Sometimes I wish it could be morning all day long. No, maybe that would get creepy. But anyway, I like it. This morning I'm working from home - hot mug of chai, dogs sleeping at my feet - listening to new Neil Young songs quietly farting through my little Mac speakers while I post new hand warmers on my etsy shop. It's gray and rainy out and everything seems perfect.

"Appealing workplaces are to be avoided. One wants a room with no view, so imagination can meet memory in the dark." - Annie Dillard

2010-09-26T14:38:00.000-04:00

Sorry Annie. Not only do I already have an attractive studio, I am also coveting a better one. Okay, obsessing may be more like it. It's just down the hall and actually smaller than my current space. But it's a more appealing shape, it has funky lights, it's sort of industrialsexywarm, and I don't know, I just want it to be mine.

And supposedly it is mine for the taking, but I'll believe it when we're wheeling carts of stuff down there and building a new dressing room. Also did I mention that it's closer to the boiler room and has windows that will hold an air conditioner? For someone who is only comfortable between, oh, say 64 and 69 degrees Fahrenheit, this is crucial. It's not easy being a fragile flower. I do the best I can.

antlers

2010-09-24T07:29:00.003-04:00

antlers

antlers on your wall
used to mean you had pulled on your boots in the dark before dawn
day after day and trudged
snow crunching under them.

and at the very right moment held your very cold hands
and shoulder
and breath and eye steady
then not only shot but also gutted - the steam and the blood of it -
and dragged
that animal with the antlers
back to your house.

i think maybe now it means
you got to the flea market on the train after brunch,
your cash ready, your coffee hot.
they, waiting on a folding table,
resigned to hang on your wall and wink:
a life is a life.

who will be you?

2010-09-20T15:31:00.000-04:00

"Is Charlie Parker one of a kind, or can we produce another Charlie Parker at will?

Answer: Yes, Charlie Parker is one of a kind.

Answer: No we cannot produce another Charlie Parker.

We also cannot produce another you. If you spend your life trying to be Charlie Parker, who will be you?"

- William Parker, from Who Owns Music

morning poem

2010-09-11T08:30:00.001-04:00

My soap exists to wash me
just as I am here to feed the dogs.
Everything is easy in the morning.

And if I cry at eight pm - I often do -
tired and full of pity,
(mystery achievement, my ass)

I'll try to remember morning
when it's sweet and soapy, simple
and the dogs say:
hurry, feed us, we need to get back to sleep.

it's okay, some of them adjust more quickly than others

2010-09-02T21:21:00.001-04:00

Release of the Bear Cubs. This dress is named after a dream I had years ago. I know, yawn, who wants to hear about my dream?

There were two bear cubs who had been kept safe while they hibernated in glass cases on either side of my brick fireplace. Then they were released from the back of a white van into a large lush green field. One cub instantly surveyed the area, perked up on its back legs, sniffing, then took off running for the forest in the distance.

The other seemed to be drugged, dazed, stumbled out of the van and just meandered. Once it fell over, and just as I began to worry about him (or rather me, since this is how I feel much of the time as I see other bears galloping off confidently) the narrator (British of course) came on to let us know "It's okay, some of them adjust more quickly than others." It's okay! Phew.

So this dress has one cuff that is expansive, bold, and galloping, and the other is a folded bud of a bear cub that will get there in its own good time.

gotta get in to get out.

2010-08-29T11:13:00.000-04:00

Today in the studio.

The plan is, get in, sew, get out before I melt.

Listening to the Charlie Parker birthday broadcast on wkcr.

Making mountains of hand warmers from recycled wool.

In real life they are in focus.

I had a movie dream last night about a man who was preparing to die. All his family was with him, he was quite calm, and it wasn't sad - it was his time and he was calmly preparing his loved ones for his demise. There were three household / grooming items laid out on his bed that formed a check mark, that's how neat and clean it was, he'd been checked off of the great list of life! That's what I get for drinking beer and eating sushi late at night on a friend's porch.

I got a magic chrysalis

2010-08-27T16:33:00.000-04:00

from Lavinia Hanachiuc of almapottery.

It's a pirate moth.

It's hanging from my neck right now.

Gosh I love her work.

It looks like this:

I stare at her work a lot.

I'm hip to her plight.

In my dream world my house is clean and neat,

painted bright white and sunny and full of her work,

which never gets dusty.

keeping it real, small, and mildly surreal.

2010-08-18T17:54:00.000-04:00

I was eyeing my bamboo scarf this morning. It's waiting on the coat rack for me and for the proper Fall morning. I get such a thrill from the handful of things that other people have knit for me. That gratitude helps me remember why people are so excited (okay, sometimes a little stampedey) about my work. It helps me hold onto what is special and good, not about what I make per se, but how I go about it. Because there is always something exhilarating but also terrifying about relaxing into the smallness of what I do. I'm not trying to fill someone else's retail store, not trying to get discovered and hit the big time, not trying to hire people to do my work for me ... so what am I doing?

Well, today I am: sewing a heap of gray and black clothes for an out of town customer who'll be visiting the studio this weekend. I know what she likes! High sculpted collars, lots of gray, and even more black. So I'll have a fine pile of stuff for her to try on when she arrives. It's one of the joys of working small and knowing my people. It's so much the opposite of trying to please everyone ... it's just this: me sitting at my machine thinking of what I know of L. - which is only what she has already bought from me, and some details from a few email chats. It's not exclusive, it's not even fancy. But it's enough to work from. It's just me making stuff for you. It's simple and direct and nice. I'll do it for you if you want. It is my honor.

Two of my sisters and a niece brought lunch to me today at the studio. A favorite moment: when we swiftly decided that the pie-shaped and square-shaped contingents could each have the cornbread they desired. Now that's diplomacy.

Fuzzy self portrait of me today.

pssst I'm over here, behind the boxes.

2010-08-17T12:19:00.002-04:00

My normal scenic vista of ... well, okay, I admit it, the utility sink ... has been replaced with a mountain of boxes.

Yes, it's fabric.

Yes I usually rail against the evils of hoarding.

But I know just where all of this is going! I'll, umm, I'll feed it every day and clean its cage ... I promise.

It's my Fall stash for making layering husks, bloomers, ruffle shrugs and vests, etc - any of my limited run stuff that is not reconstructed. And it's really nice ... designer samples of some really lovely fabrics - linen, cotton, wool suiting from Japan and Italy, all great quality. Most are just large enough to cut out one or two items, so there will be much variety. I'm making bloomers out of some amazing patterns! I can't wait to share them with you. Especially the mod striped red white and blue pair.

My excuse is: my local fabric store is moving and they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Three unwieldy cartloads up the freight elevator later and my Fall is laid out before me ... literally. At least it's not too hard to figure out what to do every day.

So between that, getting my website all fancified (did I mention that you can shop directly from it now? cough cough?) there's a lot of change in the wind ... and if I'm lucky it will be a crisp cool sunny Autumnal wind ...

I Am What I Am: a cautionary tale

2010-08-06T05:10:00.002-04:00

Imagine my surprise when I clicked on a favorite blog this morning and saw MY ARM. It's on Worn Through: Apparel from an academic perspective. The sewing machine tattoo on my forearm is the first picture you'll see.

The post shows sewing tattoos but mostly it's about the blog author teaching a course on "personal and professional appearance" and it reads as a mildly cautionary tale. I don't flinch at that, but it is funny if you know me and know how much I ruminate over such decisions.

I got my tattoos when I was forty. When I ran one of my runner-up ideas past a very non-tattooed friend ("Matt, do you think I'll regret it if I get a ***** tattoo?") He immediately said "Helen, we're already the age when you would regret it." That cleared things right up.

I also got them after being self-employed for a few years. They are a reminder that I am who I am - and I have not ever felt so purely myself (in all the fantastic and tragic ways) since I left the world of working for others. It's basically been one long Zen retreat - and not the kind where someone serves you miso soup in a raku bowl and you suddenly see everything clearly. I'm talking about the part where you stare at the white wall and every demon you've ever built comes to visit and taunt you, and while they are chanting all your fears (Failure! Loser Failure! Loser!) you try to function, and create beautiful things, and keep your books - oh, and make enough money to eat.

My personality is enmeshed with my business. Like my tattoos, my business is me. But I was always taught that being professional included hiding your self. So I'm interested in redefining what it means for me to be professional based on this lack of traditional boundaries. For me professionalism is a direct extension of what it means to be moral. I make my business decisions in a humane way and I seek to strike a balance of fairness with everyone, myself included. But I'm also an artist, and a passionate fool with very specific quirks. In my perfect world I'm asking professionalism to becomes specific, flexible, and human - inclusive and not reductive. And I'm trusting that there isn't too much about me that needs to be hidden!

By design I am part of a very direct process: the things I've made with my hands - things that are part of my soul and are built based on every experience I've ever had - are traded directly for other people's hard-earned money. But they are also traded with admiration on both sides, and I know the people I sell to and they send me pictures of themselves wearing what I've made and they tell me stories about what my work means to them. They show me things they made with their hands, they share their lives with me. Over and over, we're building a world together where we are connected. I don't sell to stores, I don't hire other people to sew for me - I want to be part of this direct connection, even when it's hard. And it often is.

Yes, I may have to work for someone else some day, and yes, maybe I've doomed myself to working in long-sleeved shirts. But I can't believe that people who work in the straight world don't make choices that affect them permanently. I know they do. And while they aren't engraved in their flesh those choices are often written on their faces. I've seen it and it's not for me. I'm going to keep taking my chances on the choppy high seas of self employment and art-making for as long as I can. And if it fails I'll probably end up working for some youngster covered with octopus and knitting tattoos. It's all good.

p.s. here's the other one, equally as nice, though it lives in the shadow of the colorful one which gets paraded around books and the internet ...

"Be obscure clearly." E. B. White

2010-07-08T11:31:00.001-04:00

Managing my brain's energy is a full time job - but I do try to fit a bit of sewing into my days too - you know, so I can pay my bills. Every once in a while I pull these disparate goals together and do some work that keeps all neurons tidy and focused ... at least for a time.

Such is the case, currently, with knee-length skirts. I'm in love with making them. Each one has its own rhythm and shape that wants to emerge - the design unfolds nicely before me as I cut - a problem emerges and I solve it, an idea wants to come through and I sew this way and that, stitching those panels back together and yes - there is the idea, expressed with economy, like a tidy E.B. White paragraph. I wish it was always this way, this murky art ~ craft ~ brain ~ life work that I do.

In honor of riding the current energy stream I'm doing some custom skirts for people. Well, they're sort of custom-ish - here are the details. I get to pick the colors, so I don't know who will be adventurous enough to let me play/work for them. My plan is to make these for a short time, until the curiosity is gone and the mojo fades and I feel like skirts are stupid and I should never make one again! Which could be any day now. So if you want one, take the leap.

tag team alchemy

2010-06-11T04:10:00.000-04:00

Resourcefulness is its own reward. Mr. Lentil just worked his magical playfort technology on our giant studio windows. see below. On the left, a paper blind, circa 1994, Portland Or. – originally purchased to be a wall in our shared studio apartment (now that's love). Okay, so that part was easy – unless you've ever seen our attic.

On the right, he made curtains from a canvas drop cloth. Not only is it a dropcloth, but it was free – we found it in the give-away pile in our warehouse. Then he removed the one window panel that opens. It used to hang sort of open from the bottom with two little chains, like a castle bridge over a moat, effectively stopping any air from getting to us. But he flipped it over so it hinges at the top, then installed a pully system so we can open and close it. There's nothing more fun than battening the rope to the big wooden shelf with knots I learned as a Camp Fire Girl.

The chains that used to suspend the window now tie back the curtains. And of course, my favorite detail: he harvested the cord that holds the window open by gutting and fileting a broken extension cord.

Voila! We have more fresh air, muted sunshine, quirkily mismatched windows and the lasting satisfaction of having made something out of almost nothing.

getting away with it.

2010-06-04T17:34:00.001-04:00

I heard two women talking about me in the store the other day. Trust me, I couldn't avoid it - and one announced that - "well, she can get away with that because she's tall."

Okay, first of all, don't speak loudly about someone as if they aren't there when they're standing right there and can see you. That's number one.

But also, why that phrase? Why do we use "get away with it" only for outfits and murder? Of course I get it, some clothes look better than others. But if something looks good on you, what exactly are you getting away with?

Because I make women's clothes - and honestly, I think, because I'm fat, women tell me a lot about their bodies. And almost always, they tell me what is wrong. Women call certain body parts "their problem." I hear a lot about hiding things: hiding upper arms, hiding thighs, hiding necks, hiding knees - and I learned early on that there is no arguing with these ideas because no logic applies.

Usually I feel like honored, a trusted confidante, and I feel strong enough to act as some sort of keeper of sacred body faults, but sometimes it just saddens me and tires me out. Maybe if we didn't feel like looking good was "getting away with something" it would be a start toward moving through the world in a new way - a way that is more about showing who we are more than what we hope to keep hidden.

ikearrhea

2010-06-02T16:43:00.001-04:00

Any day that includes coining a new word is a good day for me. (Can you coin a word or just a phrase?) Well anyway, in this case Mr. Lentil gets credit for naming my new design: The Haoredux Shrug. Look, it's not even in Google yet. The name is ... sort of Japano-French? The shrug is a ruffly cropped jacket, with boxy haori-like sleeves that are elbow length, and of course, also ruffly. If Ikea can make up words why can't Secret Lentil?

i like Spring but

2010-03-28T07:47:00.000-04:00

i still want to make things out of wool.

"You've got to BE there ..." - William S. Burroughs

2010-02-25T04:06:00.000-05:00

There just aren't enough knitting action shots in the world.

But Carina just sent some. Here she is knitting in her very green back yard of which I am eternally jealous. She's wearing her Secret Lentil hand warmers and holding the glompod clutch which is stuffed full of yarn.

Over on my side of the country we're getting a big wet nonstop dump of snow today. Schools are closed, the trees are covered. I'm inside sipping hot chai but thinking about boots and shovels and getting to the studio.

I spent so many years trying to get out of things I didn't want to do - going to school, to other jobs - and just waiting waiting for a snow day or even a sick day to get out of the drudgery. But this morning I saw my niece's post on facebook - she was looking forward to talking about a novel in class and working on an art project but she's snowed in. Oh! I guess not everyone hated that, ha ha.

It's still new to me to like what I'm doing. To like it in the real deep way where I'm not even secretly hoping for the day off. Where I'm not showing up every day but inside the I Want To Quit clock is ticking and I know this gig won't last long. I think I'd like a snow day but then I sit here for a few minutes and my brain gets engaged with what needs to happen today - shipping, listing some new pieces, re-arranging the studio, maybe even sewing a bit - and I'm surprised that I'd rather find some socks and see if I can dig out and get there.

I'm building a theory about how the moment we have an imaginary endgame - pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, winning lottery ticket, prince on white horse, hoping someone pulls the fire alarm so we can stand out in the parking lot instead of working for 20 minutes, etc. - that as soon as we have switched to wishing we were somewhere else we lessen our ability to be engaged with what needs to happen right in front of us. We begin to wait for life instead of living it. No i didn't invent this idea. But the more I think about it the more I think those imaginary fairy tale distractions hurt us. They cause real immediate harm. I'd love to ramble about it more but I have to go to work. Want to go to work.

deterioration, rot, rejection, heartbreak and other creature comforts

2010-02-08T16:27:00.001-05:00

I do fine with failure, tragedy, general deterioration and rot, but when things go well I get tense. I've tried to talk to people about my fears of success and the conversation always dies an awkward death. I think I'm not alone, yet no one will talk about this. Things are going really well for me over here, people, and I need some help! Okay, that does sound a bit pathetic.

So I was relieved to come across a Joshua Wolf Shenk article in The Atlantic, about a man who studied happiness, that puts words to what I've been trying to say:

But why, he asked, do people tell psychologists they’d cross the street to avoid someone who had given them a compliment the previous day?

In fact, Vaillant went on, positive emotions make us more vulnerable than negative ones. One reason is that they’re future-oriented. Fear and sadness have immediate payoffs—protecting us from attack or attracting resources at times of distress. Gratitude and joy, over time, will yield better health and deeper connections—but in the short term actually put us at risk. That’s because, while negative emotions tend to be insulating, positive emotions expose us to the common elements of rejection and heartbreak.

Was that so hard to admit? Success makes us feel vulnerable. Am I not allowed to say this out loud?

Last month I made some clothes for Rosie O'Donnell. She almost wore something of mine on Oprah. She did wear one of my sweaters on Good Morning America.

I'll spare you the details of the freak-out I put myself through getting things made and delivered to her, then stalking whorish news-faux-tainment sites trying to get a glimpse of her. "Lift your arm! I can't see the sleeves! Lift your damn arm!"

But here's what came of it. First, even a brief stalking of one person online to see what they are or are not wearing gave me a lot of empathy for famous people. I wouldn't wish that much success on anyone.

And it gave me a fresh appreciation, as if I needed one, for how many times we can gawk at something to confirm that it did not happen. That is not my sweater on Oprah *clicks play* that is not my sweater on Oprah *clicks play* that is not my sweater on Oprah *clicks play* ... oh the sweet comfort of having dodged success ... by the time someone told me they saw her on Good Morning America, in my sweater, I didn't even flinch.

So really the biggest change in my life is that people have squealed at me more than my comfort level will allow. And hopefully I have one more happy customer who feels better moving through the world dressed in my clothes. That's really all I want for anyone who chooses my work.

All I really need to knowI learned from David Lynch.

2010-01-03T06:58:00.001-05:00

I'm not calling them resolutions, but I did tear a large unruly sheet of kraft paper off my roll and spread it out on the table to do some sprawling, rambling dreaming about the coming year. Anything that physically resembles a kindergarten craft project is a great way to get my brain focused. I'm taping tabs of paper with subjects or thoughts written on them, then moving them around, unsticking and sticking them, and just trying to think through all the things I'm holding in my head about my frendly little Secret Lentil empire.

It's an awesome thing to build something from nothing, but then even more of - well I guess - more of a responsibility to nourish and grow it.

Some of the ideas are banal, things that slip through the cracks because, well, because I'm sewing everything I sell by hand, one at a time, and I'm trying to stay alive! Like gift certificates. Hello Helen, why don't you sell those online?

Others are more big and dreamy, like: I want to write a book. I have a folder on my computer that already has an outline and notes I've scrawled from time to time. Yes, I'd like to make that happen. I would publish it myself, heck I may even build each one out of kraft paper and packing tape.

But mostly I'm trying to figure out how to embrace every day, keep my work enjoyable, and stay on a path I respect. Go ahead and laugh, I'm laughing. Oh! That's it, I'll just embrace every day! Like I've never tried that before. But really, I think I'm getting there. The truth is that I'm getting used to worrying about starving, not paying my bills, never retiring, and the fear that suddenly, all on the same day of course, everyone on earth will decide they don't like my work. Those fears get boring after a while. That's right, I said it, they bore me.

I just watched a documentary about David Lynch and I'm smitten with the way he works - on movies but also on painting, on ceramics, on tinkering around with just about anything. He just states plainly that you really need to enjoy doing the work itself. And that if you don't enjoy it "you should do something else." Okay. That sounds good.

Also, I want to learn how to say "Hello" the same way he answers the phone. Hel-LO!

"Divide a loaf by a knife: what's the answer to that?"

2009-11-30T10:01:00.000-05:00

It's done. Here's The Red Queen sweater, plus a few other things I made while I've got red loaded in the serger. I haven't finished the threads yet so you'll see some dangly strings. I like red and gray together, it's sort of sporty and sort of sexy at the same time.

“If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.” - Lewis Carroll

2009-11-29T08:43:00.000-05:00

In the studio today I'm working on The Red Queen sweater - a super-lush all red sweater with red thread. It's cotton and velour and will be very full and maybe ruffly, it's too soon to tell. I hope whoever gets this will use their power for good not evil.

"Make a remark," said the Red Queen; "it's ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding!"

a morbid tale becomes a comfortable dress

2009-11-04T15:55:00.001-05:00

I had a picture book when I was a kid that has stuck with me, in ethereal ways, for decades. I remembered inky dense speckled eggs on matte paper, a snake and something about a chimney. And the snake, all logy, with bulges in it from eating those eggs.

Fast forward to these internet times, and it turns out to be "The Crows of Pearblossom" - one of two children's book written by Aldous Huxley - well, wasn't I a fancy child? And the eggs, snake and chimney were Barbara Cooney illustrations. I am not surprised to hear that it is a morbid tale, and I look forward to reading it again.

In the meantime, here is a dress inspired by those dense speckled eggs.

Secret Lentil, now for your coffee table.

2009-10-17T05:10:00.001-04:00

Ethella, Mythical Katamari Cousin tunic, Faux Faux Bois dress, Homage to Doctor Zoidberg sweater ...

Three of my pieces have just been published in the book 1000 Ideas for Creative Reuse: Remake, Restyle, Recycle, Renew. I'm thrilled for all obvious reasons, but also because the book is designed really well and my work is in exceptional company! If you click on the link you can browse the pages. It was written and edited by the extremely enthusiastic Garth Johnson of Extreme Craft.

luxe-y me

2009-10-06T12:25:00.001-04:00

Today's dreaming ... I got to the studio before sun-up today, did a lot of work and now I get to play. I'm going to see if these colors are willing to become a coat. It's been a while since I made a "Secret Lentil luxe" piece and I'm getting requests. I hope these will cooperate.

oh it's YOU.

2009-09-30T15:03:00.001-04:00

Yesterday Mr. Lentil and I finished making the new dressing room in my studio. Come in and try things on! (I'm in The Delavan Center in Syracuse NY. Here's a map. ) The mister and I are at our best when building things out of nothing. We made this from old weathered wood that we found, a dropcloth that someone left in the grab pile in our warehouse, and the chartreuse ties used to be a tablecloth.

It's great meeting some of the lovely humans I've met over these internet tubes. I'm having a guest in from Toronto next week, a friendstomer I already love though we've never met in person. I'm a bit giddy about it, although I don't know how to tell her that I've never finished a Jane Austen novel. *cringing* I hope she'll forgive my literary transgressions.

You can call me (315...380...9610) or email to set up a time to visit.

names make all the difference

2009-08-26T14:23:00.001-04:00

"glompod? is that you, boy?'

There's a word for it.
Words don't mean a thing.
There's a name for it.
Names make all the difference in the world. - David Byrne

A friend, who shall remain nameless for her protection, lives in one of our country's liberal hubs. I am jealous of the good restaurants she has access to, and the good shoes for sale, but mostly I marvel at her stories of the uptightness necessary to keep a place liberal. There are more rules there than at your average military encampment, but many of them are unwritten. It would prompt me to misbehave mightily, I fear.

It's better to visit once in a while, but mostly I just listen to her tales. The latest involved a woman who has eschewed a name, settling on a sound in its place. I don't know her reasoning, but it sure seems like it would just muck a lot of things up. Your attempt at becoming egoless, for instance, could make you bitter after you've explained it for the 12 thousandth time. I picture a sort of karmic "Wuh's on first" routine.

This is all to say: here is a sneak peak at a new bag I'm making. It needs a name. The good news is that I enjoy naming things. For some reason I want to call it Glompod, but that seems a bit gloomy. But it's kind of a pod you glom on to. I promise I'll make a choice though, and not name it "That sigh that you sound when someone is slow at the register in front of you."

i don't think people were meant to be so shiny.

2009-08-11T11:57:00.001-04:00

in the acupuncturist's waiting room.

The Buddha whispered something but I didn't catch it.

apertures, eyeballs and agfas

2009-07-14T15:21:00.001-04:00

a dress from my f-stop series

I love old cameras. When I was kid my dad gave me an old Agfa. It was wonderfully dense, with ridged black sides and a lens that popped out with the press of a button, suspended by matte black accordian-folds. It used square 120 film that I would take down to Fay's Drugs to get developed, and I still remember the thrill of discovering I could take double exposures if I didn't advance the film manually.

I liked that cameras mirror our eye functions, I liked how much sense all the settings made, and I desperately wanted to have something in common with my dad - I was getting weary of skeet shooting ...

what does it mean to have enough?

Photography is all about letting enough light in for the right amount of time - finding balance while accounting for all the options we have available to us.

So I've been thinking this through - what is enough, what has balance, restraint, and about longing for things we can't have - as I'm making a series of clothes called f.stop. I'll be listing them here as they're done, through the next week or two.

my clothing is flexible but i am not ...

2009-07-13T07:47:00.001-04:00

and here is my proof:

Mr. Lentil kept saying "I think people could pull these skirts up and wear them as dresses."

Then a customer said "Did you know that I can wear this many different ways including two ways as a dress?"

Then another customer said "Great as a skirt or dress or top."

Okay okay, get off my back. I'll tell people they work as dresses and tops.

like a surgeon -woo! cutting for the very first time

2009-07-05T07:22:00.001-04:00

my hands, changing blades on the industrial serger

I'm used to chopping things up - it's what I do for a living - but even for me it's been a big weekend.

In real life I replaced the blades on my industrial serger for the first time. I had already sharpened the old ones (Was that breaking the rules? Well, it worked) so I sort of had an idea how to take things apart in there.

In the gelatinous semi-real world of the internet, ahhhh, that's where things got messy. I transferred my website to a new host, pretty much deciphered how to update it, started a website overhaul, and almost have my bevy of email addresses sorted back out. Almost.

I also set up a Secret Lentil page on facebook, so if you're already all facebooky you can become a fan. And, hint hint, you can suggest it to your friends.

Oh, and I set up the blog you are reading right now, which is now part of my website proper. I'm leaving the old blog out there like a carcass on the rocks - I hope that's the compassionate thing to do.

Speaking of death - and oh yes, there's a smooth transition - that's really where all this change started, with a recent family death. After all the tumult and drama and big big sadness it was hard to just sit back down and sew. It made more sense to tear some things apart and build better things in their place, to poke death in the snoot one more time before getting back to normal, back to the calm churning rhythm of my sewing machine that connects everything to everything else: fabric to fabric, death to life, and ultimately, me to you.

onward and upward

2009-07-04T10:25:00.003-04:00

new blog coming any moment now.
i'm integrating my blog into my proper website.
looking forward to writing some essays on clothes, and life.
any ... moment ...

Studio Secrets Revealed!

2009-04-11T08:37:00.006-04:00

New tote bags in the works.

That's right, my secret design weapon is kraft paper™. No CAD. No space-age polymers. No robots.

Now I must kill you.

hermetic.

2009-02-22T10:02:00.004-05:00

Hermetic is when you prefer to stay sealed in your own house drinking Sumatran French Roast, right? I thought so.

I skipped a friend's party last night to stay home, drink too much coffee too late at night, watch bad tv and shave my hair off. Ahhhh, February.

p.s. I didn't shave it all off. I used the number 8 attachment and left a few wisps in front to signify "girl."

the weirdness. it's genetical.

2009-02-07T09:48:00.004-05:00

My sister (above? no, but she painted that) wrote me a poem.
I'm sorry she insulted your sewing abilities but I still love it.

Dear Miss Lentil dost thou speak of threads and bobbin things?
The clothes you make are destined to bestow on people wings.
Not gossamer not silkiness not chintz not crepe but cotton,
Your fingers weave a dream for those whose sewing skills are rotten.

gracefuller than me?

2009-01-30T09:21:00.005-05:00

I just finished a series of black pieces called "Everything Went Black." I am super pleased with how a few of them turned out. When I focus on my work in the proper way, just doing what I do, every once in a while I look up from my work and think "how did I do that?"
This dress
came out so solid, so graceful, so coherent, so self-contained in a way I love.

I don't mention this to brag. I mention it because I am continually baffled at how this art thing works. I feel like a fumbling baffoon - awkward, bumbly, full of neurotic striving, with a constant chant (sometimes whispering, sometimes pounding loud, accompanied by tablas and backup singers) of FAILURE FAILURE FAILURE always playing in the background. But somehow I made this very confident, graceful, standing-up-straight dress.

Can I make something that has qualities I lack? Or does my creating them mean that I have all those things in me somewhere?

aww shucks and happy new year.

2009-01-04T08:33:00.006-05:00

Oh look! I got a glowing mention in Marcy Tilton's 2009 New Year Newsletter.

Marcy designs her own line of clothing and home decorating patterns for Vogue Patterns and, among many other things, also co-runs creativity/sewing/fiber retreats nationally.

She calls herself a "textile adventuress" - and while we haven't ever met, I'll bet we are related somehow, the way many of us are, through needle and thread and a desire to make our own way in the world with them.

happy accident

2008-11-25T13:58:00.004-05:00

So I just finished a series of pieces based on the Marcel Duchamp painting "The Chocolate Grinder."

Or, I should say, based on what I remember, based on the framed print I have of it, which is stashed somewhere on my back porch along with heaps of books, boxes of audio tubes and files full of job evaluations and insurance paperwork from 1993.

I didn't look at the print first.

It is not brown and gray. Perfect!

my tattoo is in a book.

2008-11-19T06:47:00.009-05:00

My sewing machine tattoo is in a book.

I have now held a copy in my hands, and it's true, there it is: my forearm for all the world to see. Of course they didn't tell me it was "A fascinating catalog of visual imagery and personal folly" - ha ha. It turns out I'm proud of my folly. It may be the only thing I can truly call my own.

"Those who realize their folly are not true fools." - Zhuangzi

serious trouble will bypass you.

2008-10-26T11:10:00.002-04:00

my window sill would never tell you a lie.

space is the place

2008-10-04T08:06:00.009-04:00

I have a great Sun Ra quote somewhere, a good long rambling paragraph about how in these times you need to listen to the people who don't know what they're talking about. But I can't find it. So trust me.

Space is the place. There is a mortgage crisis, the stock market, which has never seemed real to me anyway, is bouncing all over. So what do I do? I sign a lease on a gigantic gorgeous artist studio. Good opportunities never seem to come at rational times.

I'm moving in this weekend and on Monday morning it will be my job. The more uncertain the world is, the more I prefer to have my fate in my own hands. And my own hands can't wait to set things up there and start creating great things.

the accidental parade is more entertaining than the real one.

2008-09-22T10:39:00.006-04:00

Okay, that was fun. I'm sore, groggy, and my face hurts from smiling so much. The Westcott St. Cultural Fair, with it's bizarre little peace-puppet parade, its aging co-op members, African dancers, slender vegans and high ratio of scruffy-teens has come and gone.

Dang! I met some sweet people, had lots of people seek me out from last year, saw lots of old store customers, chatted with new and old friends, and enjoyed the day long other parade, the informal one, the neverending stream of people I've seen around forever but never met, who all seem to be getting older too. There's that guy we used to call Bohemian Man, he's traded in his lizard boots for sneakers. Is that woman one of the belly dancers or is that her real outfit? Oh, that guy's rasta hat is even bigger. Humans and time, they make a great parade.

this is the time. and this is the record of the time.

2008-08-28T11:23:00.015-04:00

I worked through a valiant round of tag making this morning. No wonder I put it off, it takes forever to churn out a new batch. Plus I have to tuck in all the nice dry fabric and get out the gooey tools. But tag day is always a good chance to pause and be proud that I am forging ahead, to acknowledge that I've used up a whole bunch and apparently I have enough faith that in the coming months I'll sew each one of these onto a new creation.
In other news: Syracuse. I complain about my city a lot. It deserves it. But I am thrilled, yes thrilled, to report that we have a new local fabric store. And by local I mean it is not a chain. It's in the Delavan Center, the artist's warehouse space where, conveniently enough, Mr. Lentil works.

Normally I use all recycled materials, but I admit they have caught my eye. I skulked in carefully, fearing that by the name alone (Feminine Touch Fabrics) they might kick me out immediately. But no. The owner Linda introduced herself, shook my hand, didn't gawk at my tattoos and promptly took me on a tour. They. Have. A. Warehouse. Full of fabric. I had many moments of bliss. I picket out some wonderfully inky-black stretch linen (sounds tacky but it is not) and a nice big remnant of coral cotton jersey. I'm not a big fabric hoarder, but they are nearby and as soon as I use this I will be back. If you're local, let me know and I'll meet you there. I mean it.

free jazz makes me proud to be a human.

2008-08-22T18:42:00.005-04:00

More than most things. Frode Gjerstad + Paal Nilssen-Love Monday night at Metropolis.
Opening set by American Sphinx: Michael Hentz and Jarek Miller.
Thanks to Michael Hentz from NewThing for the pictures.

Mountains come out of the sky and THEY STAND THERE.

2008-08-06T11:08:00.004-04:00

This isn't funny any more. I'm brushing my teeth, I'm washing the dishes, minding my own business and without advance notice discover I am humming or singing either the words or bass line from the Yes song Roundabout.

It has now been months. Months, my friends. A weaker mind would have snapped. A stronger mind would have bucked this somehow.

I did just discover the source though, and it has not helped. I haven't heard Roundabout in years, and, I must say, never on purpose. But I've been playing this pinball game on the Wii and one of the games has music that ends with a similar riff - just one measure. That planted the evil seed. But I refuse to stop playing the game. And thus I suffer.

Please see the poll on your right. (poll closed, thanks.)

lush plush.

2008-07-28T18:56:00.004-04:00

There's a whole lotta good plush on etsy. I grabbed a coveted Treasury today and curated a lovely bunch of stuffed things.

Artists, by etsy name: nimoy, debivanzyl, girlsavage (thanks for the picture), dkoss2, spidercamp, curster, mummysam, Quirkles, ObeyMyBrain, herzensart, beccajo, catsmiaow.

that's Mister Pot Roast to you.

2008-07-20T17:53:00.004-04:00

I got sick. A horrid stomach virus whose details shall not be discussed here.

But upon my recovery I bounced back with a rabid desire for some disgusting food. We chose Ihop. I felt like I hadn't been out in the world in ages (perhaps because in my mind, Ihop = 1986.) The menu looked gigantic, daunting. The lighting harsh. It felt dangerous.

I ended up ordering a mildly healthy spinach salad but ate half of Mr. Lentil's strawberry cheesecake pancakes. For a brief magical moment I really wanted the Senior Pot Roast, thinking it said Señor Pot Roast and not just tough meat for the elderly. In conclusion: maybe I should not have been allowed out of the house yet. But I feel fine.

I come by it natural-like.

2008-07-15T06:51:00.001-04:00

I just got done processing pictures of my latest batch of clothes, the highlight being my first Secret Lentil Luxe piece: The Maid of the Moss Traveling Jacket. Oh dearie me I'm happy with this. It's cotton and linen, made of lots of greens and purples and sewn with miles and miles of freeform meandering thread. I picture someone wearing this and shrinking down really teensy-like, walking in between fronds of moss, sweeping out pebbles and spraying the moss with a mister. I don't do as many drugs as you might think.

Blueberry Scones with Lime Sugar, or do not bake while tired.

2008-07-14T08:51:00.010-04:00

Mark my words: if you aren't awake enough to follow a recipe, do not bake. If you get half way done and say "Oh, that's not baking soda ..." maybe you should have just watched someone cook on tv instead. So, I mixed my powders and sodas, only sort of measured the butter, mauled some berries beyond recognition and made a few of the scones larger than whales.

Still, they came out pretty dang good. I used girlsavage's recipe for raspberry scones to make the blueberry version with our first summer blueberries. And I topped them by pilfering spidercamp's suggestion for lime sugar. Yum.

lyle love.

2008-07-13T11:41:00.006-04:00

I have a little Lyle Lovett problem. Well it isn't a problem, exactly. Even back when he married JR my then-coworkers knew enough to have me sit down before they broke the news.

Here's a sewing/portrait I did of him a handful of years ago. It took a while to find the right jacket for it but now it's wearable.
The only problem is that it seems to be haunted - I wear it once and it immediately goes missing in my house for months. And no, the problem is not my messiness. Ahem! How dare you suggest that?

i see weird people.

2008-07-04T09:54:00.004-04:00

It's true: I only make clothes so I can play with other people I meet on the intarweb.

Here's the feedback someone, above, left me for a skirt she bought on etsy. (Reminder: today is July 4th.)

oh, beauuuuuutiful for spacious clothes, for layers of earth skirt!!! For helen's creativity and prices that don't huuuuuuuuurt! Se-CRET lentil, Se-CRET lentil, my clothing feels so freeeeeeeee! And wear her good clothes like you should from sea to shining seaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

when you are bored you are boring to be with

2008-06-14T07:19:00.006-04:00

My sister ran the youth center in my village while I was growing up. There was a poster on the wall there that read "When you are bored you are boring to be with" and even the poster itself was remarkably boring. Do you think it ever motivated anyone? Maybe to become an English teacher, ha ha. We used the line as a joke for years.

But, people, I am bored by my own blog. I can't expect to entertain you, if that is the point, when I am boring my own fine self. So I'm thinking about what it is I want to do here. I'll come back with something energized and focused, something that at the very least entertains me.

The bottle cap magnet is from etsy shop bornlippy. It's part of a set of three that read "I am creepy," "Destiny is a bore," and "I am so hopelessly incomplete."

second hand love

2008-05-12T21:07:00.007-04:00

We went through a bit of vinyl withdrawal here at the Lentil house waiting for a replacement belt for our turntable. Now it's here, it's on, all is well. It is a bit hard to believe a large rubber band can cost so much, but okay. It's also hard to believe a cartridge can be worth $300 - as ours would be, except that Mr. Lentil scooped it up at a thrift store, new in the box, for four dollars. I guess it averages out just fine.

To celebrate we cracked the seal on our original Blue Note recording of Jackie McLean's Action. Yes, it was sealed, geeky collector types, and no, it was not the re-issue! When we owned a record store we had to part with a lot of things we loved. Now, a year past it's closing, I'm starting to feel like a citizen of the world again, of our world anyway, the world where we buy something of quality because we know what we love, and we keep it. It is a much better planet. We're back to our house full of flea market furniture, discarded library art, dusty books and records - back where we belong.

Mr. Lentil said "Are you sure? We could sell it on ebay." Yes, I'm sure. A lot of good things are worth more than money.

turning japanese i think i'm turning japanese i really think so

2008-05-08T09:40:00.010-04:00

Last night before bed I watched an interview with Shigeru Miyamoto who invented Wii Fit (among many other things). He was so sweet and obviously motivated by the simplicity and beauty of interactive design. Even saying it that way sounds too complicated. He is just directly connected with his work. Our work doesn't have to be complicated, just attentive and engaged, she mumbles to herself.

Then I went to bed and after dreaming about making thousands of Mii's in a contest, I dreamed I took Mr. Lentil out for his birthday to a small fancy restaurant owned by a Japanese family. We watched as they made our dinner, flat oval-shaped discs made of redbeans, served with a sauce and rice. I was taken aback when it didn't really taste like anything, but as we chewed it it got better and better. Then the mother and father and their little girl all came out with gifts for Mr. Lentil, wrapped in paper and covered with notes they had written to him in Japanese. So, in conclusion, thanks Japanese people, for all the food and video games.

First up today is a dress and shrug with ubersleeves made from the green and black fabrics that you see up there. Getting started with a CD mix of Brian Eno - Another Green World, Radiohead - I Might Be Wrong, Laurie Anderson - Big Science, Dr. John - In The Right Place, and my friend Norm: The Human - The Human Loves You. He does, you know.

etsy colors

2008-05-05T18:59:00.003-04:00

my tattoo is cooler than i am, by far.

2008-04-25T09:43:00.007-04:00

I took some better pictures of my tattoo this week. I also took some of the other one on my other forearm, which, for some reason, no one ever cares about. I won't even show it to you, so there. Take that. It's beautiful too. But you cannot see it.

I'm a bad leader. When I was a kid I had to earn beads for my Bluebird vest - for leadership, service, business, etc. But my mom was a group leader so I figured who wants to do all these boring things when we have boxes of those beads at home? What's my motivation here? Besides, who the hell wants to be seen in such an ugly vest? And when we recited our Bluebird pledge I would only mouth the line "I will always finish what I begin" because I didn't want to lie. Too bad there wasn't a bead for Cynical But Honest Pragmatism.

But I do enjoy running the Etsy People With Tattoos group. Perhaps because there is no work or obligation involved. Plus, no putting on skits, marching in a parade dressed "like an Indian" in a burlap outfit or selling candy door to door in the middle of Winter.

warn your children

2008-04-18T17:56:00.007-04:00

So, I recently upgraded my operating system to Leopard. Ever since then, a couple times a day when I'm busy shuffling things around, a text file called "utah phillips quote" keeps opening up.

I didn't open it. It opens itself. (Cue the theremin.)

You might know Utah Phillips as the crusty old lefty who recorded an album with Ani DiFranco on her label. He's probably done a million other things, but that's how I found him.

I am a quote hoarder. You never know when a good quote is going to be useful. Apparently this one wants to be heard now. Or, my Mac wants you to hear it. Utah Phillips, to an auditorium of children:

"You're about to be told one more time that you're America's most valuable natural resource. Have you seen what they do to valuable natural resources? Have you seen a strip mine? Have you seen a clearcut in the forest? Have you seen a polluted river? Don't ever let them call you a valuable natural resource! They're gonna strip mine your soul! They're gonna clear-cut your best thoughts for the sake of profit, unless you learn to resist, 'cause the profit system follows the path of least resistance, and following the path of least resistance is what makes the river crooked."

second cherry? that sounds naughty

2008-04-17T13:59:00.005-04:00

I got a mention on the blog Second Cherry today as part of a series on deconstructed fashion. Second Cherry is " for women who refuse to mature" - I didn't realize I was part of a demographic!

it's not as bad as seeing how sausage is made, but it ain't pretty.

2008-04-13T11:09:00.010-04:00

I'm overhauling my work space this weekend. Ugh! I couldn't bear to take a before picture, but here is a during shot:
My work room (what would be a normal person's dining room) is 10 by 11 feet wide, and I think I've actually come up with a plan to sew comfortably and, by moving a few key items, be able to shoot pictures in here. Ha! The Organizational Gods are laughing at me. I'm used to it. I ignore their hearty guffaws.
The clothing rack on wheels, where I sort source material for current projects, has a chunk of bright white fabric that gets tossed over it. When pivoted out it becomes the light diffuser for my half-assed photo booth.

By the way, these racks are the best thing ever. You can get a crappy Martha Stewart rack at KMart for about 6o bucks. Some day, without issuing out a plaintive warning call, it will crumble. For 52 dollars you can buy a real rack that you could use as a support beam in your house. Plus when you push it around you feel like you're in the garment district in New York. Well, I do anyway, but as Mr. Lentil said this morning, after seeing me stomp on a cardboard box: "You have a flair for the awkwardly dramatic." (Note to self: use this phrase on your next business cards.)
The only flaw in my plan? I have to kick Mr. Lentil's computer out of the other corner. But really, how can someone who keeps a drumset in our living room complain about a little thing like that?

talking heads vs. flapping lips

2008-04-08T09:10:00.007-04:00

Here's the Black Ant dress I mentioned in my last post.

I don't want to hear people's lips flapping today - there is such a thing as too much NPR. I have a promising mix in ye olde cd player: Mike Doughty, Radiohead, Atlantic Drone, Talking Heads and Thelonius Monk. Surely good things will come from this. I think it's a law. I love mornings. Everything seems possible.

This morning I'm finishing up "Retired Military," a long duster in olive and red made from a vintage army jacket. I guess it's fitting (oh, bad pun) that I'm putting military clothing into peaceful service on the same day that the big wigs in uniform are talking to Congress about Oceania's oops - our war, while simultaneously I, sensitive soul, am too shell-shocked to listen to it on the radio. I'll play my own music and sew, thank you very much.

my advice: stare at what you love.

2008-04-01T14:34:00.006-04:00

I like bugs. I just finished making The Black Ant Dress - yes, it's all black, with six pod pockets (two rows of three) cascading down the sides. No pictures yet. I don't think anyone will mistake it's wearer for an ant, but it is what I had in mind as I made it. Insects, six legs, etc.

I spent my formative years gently lifting logs and rocks and staring for a long time at whatever was there - the shiny shells of ants, the velvety bellies of orange newts, the gold foil of toads' eyes.

I was kind, except for a phase during which I was certain that toads would be happier in my elaborately built housing than they ever could be in the wild. Oh, and there was a pet grass snake that I tried taking for walks wearing a red yarn leash. Don't worry, he escaped. But for the most part I just watched.

It's still surprising to me what an important place these creatures hold in my imagination and that now, years later when I finally dare to call myself an artist, they are there waiting for me, their colors vivid, the smell of damp black dirt still fresh.

There are good reasons to spend time staring at things you love. What you are attentive to becomes part of you, and stays with you, with no effort on your part. I'll try to remember that the next time I'm tempted to watch tv.

You're also staring at a handmade stuffed dung beetle, Danny, with dung ball, from etsy seller weirdbuglady.

this just in from the HMS Legume

2008-03-29T18:48:00.006-04:00

I just got my Top Secret Lentil Advance Notice System - aka mailing list - running. I've been getting so many "When will you make another one like this?" questions that I thought I'd put out an alert on days I'm listing. Sign up - I won't bother you too often.

At the other end, the production end, I'm also trying to make more. More. Must. Make. More. Moving fast doesn't agree with me though. There's a reason I'm so fond of turtles and sloths.

rock paper scissors

2008-03-25T18:15:00.005-04:00

I like getting inspired by objects whose shapes I enjoy. Milkweed pods, turtles, Dodge Darts and other old square cars, rocks. Usually I transmogrify that inspiration into my clothing, but today I started working on a more literal piece: a sculpted handbag shaped like those nice old metal working-man lunch boxes. They are such a satisfying shape. I made a scale model out of scrap paper and tomorrow I'll try out a real one.

I've just about got my mailing list ready to go. Of course I tinkered with it - I would never have my sign up box be blue! I set about mucking with the html - fine, boxes are now gray - but I tweaked it a bit too much and, well, broke it. As soon as I get it re-assembled I shall roll it out to the world. I should stick to paper and tape.

oops i did it again

2008-03-14T10:48:00.006-04:00

Every once in a while I surprise myself and do the same thing twice. Well, more or less. I just finished this brown and purple babydoll dress with super long scrunchable sleeves. The colors make me very happy.

Late last night Mr. Lentil's eyes felt allergized and we heard geese flying overhead - sure signs of Spring.

look out - i will surely get "your goat"

2008-02-27T14:22:00.023-05:00

I'm on day three of an incredibly calm productive stream of sewing. My secret? Very. Little. Internet. Time. I banned myself from the etsy forum, and I haven't looked back. I've finished 4 dresses, 2 tunics, 2 shirts and a few shirts. I've tried some new draping experiments and made some very different pieces from my norm. And even though it's snowy I churned out a few bright Spring dresses.

Oh, say, did I mention that I'm the spawn of Satan? I do searches for deconstructed clothing now and then to see what's out there. I just found this lovely piece of Reefer-Madness-esque propaganda from an LDS church "Image Integrity" site about the evils of deconstructed clothing. The best part:

Deconstructed clothes are purposely intended to visually communicate unwillingness to conform to looking "nice" as was once enjoyed. The looks are pridefully and immodestly, "in your face," for the purpose of getting attention, getting "your goat," or getting "the edge."

Wow, I feel so bad-ass now. I admit, at 43 I'm still mildly thrilled at being so misunderstood and judged. The best part is that they don't even seem to know what deconstructed means. It's sort of perfect.

For the record, I have nothing for or against the LDS church. Mr. Lentil holds a Philosophy degree and enjoys inviting their nice young elders in and chatting them up. Once a few of them shoveled our driveway. Plus, they put on a fantastic show.

if maple syrup, then Spring.

2008-02-26T14:41:00.004-05:00

Here's the view today out the window of my work space. I sure feel silly making a bright celery green Spring dress. But Spring happens every year, right? Right?

it's a DIY thing.

2008-02-14T13:57:00.009-05:00

My interview in the flagship edition of DIY City was posted today. DIY City is an online mag put out by the fine folks at DIYthing. Each issue will feature a city, and although I'm removed from New York City they were kind enough to squeeze me in. It's quite an impressive undertaking!

I was interviewed by designer Lori Sandstedt of lorimarsha. Lori's also a reconstructer and I'm a big fan of her work. I just love that so many people can reconstruct clothes and have completely different styles. Where I'm cottons, solids and earth-tones, Lori is laces, plaids and patterns, West Coast sunshine and ripe fruit. She makes clothing, handbags and gorgeous chunky jewelry. I'm happy to have Lori as part of my informal online support network. She asked some great questions and being the grand overthinker that I am, I got all carried away answering them. I do hope you'll read the interview.

one mission (like a salmon)

2008-02-09T08:46:00.001-05:00

Here's the dress I made from the orange and gray striped cotton. I had some matching salmon/orange thermal cotton and some super plush gray velour.

six impossible things

2008-02-05T10:27:00.000-05:00

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as
six impossible things before breakfast."
The Queen, Alice in Wonderland

I set my toast plate down next to today's project (see yesterday's heinous drawing) and accidently made a fine photo opp. These colors please me. The darker blue-green is a velvet vintage skirt that will hopefully become a belt for this sweater. I got these small plates plus some cups and saucers years ago at the flea market.

I'm going to believe as many impossible things as I can today, including that my vote matters in today's presidential primary.

let us now praise good-humored self deprecation.

2008-02-04T09:45:00.001-05:00

I think this speaks for itself.
Trust me, the real sweater will be three dimensional.

"I ain't scaret."

2008-02-03T19:35:00.000-05:00

Today on my "day off" I accidently made a dress. As a big fan of all things gray (or grey) I've been enjoying mixing it with other colors. So I was happy to find this gray and salmon orange cotton jersey in teeny little stripes. I made it, along with some matching orange thermal cotton and gray jersey and velour, into a dress. It's all ripply and textured and has a hidden side pocket. When it's all washed and ready I'll post the finished product.

I sort of can't wait to sleep, get up and have the "real" work week begin. I have a bunch of stuff ready to list and a pile of new projects lined up to make. As the young boy who timidly tripped up our stairs for Halloween one year said "I ain't scaret."

sink in and tinker.

2008-02-02T14:13:00.001-05:00

I've got a new wave of bag-making fever. I've made a few and plan to dig into my boxes of salvaged leather to make some more. For inspiration I dug through my archives to peek at some bags I made before I really got rolling on this whole full time maker/making gig.

These are three I made by a combination of weaving and sewing. The brown and purple one is made from wool and purple cotton jersey - it came out really well but I would never be patient enough to make another. I don't know how real weavers do what they do.

I also found a sort of bag-making manifesto called "dreams of bags" that I barely remember writing. As usual I was struggling with how to stay calm and get work done - ending with "sink in and tinker."

It's not a big mystery. You just have to sink in and tinker.

Why is this so hard to remember every morning?

ludwig ... let me count the ways

2008-02-01T14:15:00.000-05:00

You'll have lemonade -

pink, and take afternoon naps.
Live with me, Ludwig.

Inspired by an etsy forum thread that called for us to write a haiku about something we covet, I wrote this poem for Ludwig. I admit, I am naturally suspicious of being a grown woman who is attracted to stuffed animals in the same way I distrust men with boy's names - the exception being Billy Collins. I guess I've just seen too many women wearing Disney sweatshirts. But this is different. I just know it is.

Ludwig was dreamed up and knit by Debi van Zyl, whose work and blog I am ever-so fond of. Her beasts make me happy. She makes paper things and mobiles too.

my heart got broken a little bit.

2008-01-29T16:26:00.000-05:00

So, even though I should have stayed quiet about it I blabbed a titch some months ago about possibly being featured in a national magazine's article about reconstructed clothing. Well, it fell through. I spent a week (a week in December, ugh) making samples to send them, twenty four dollars in shipping, and of course, really got my hopes up.

They liked my clothes. But we had a misunderstanding about the models' sizes and nothing I sent fit their people. Ugh. That makes it worse. I guess I learned to ask more questions - I didn't because I was so excited and didn't want to be annoying. In retrospect, I would take annoying over heartbroken any day.

The black pillow above is from MooganCreations.

obi oh my.

2007-12-28T21:07:00.000-05:00

I made a big bunch of clothing tags today. Just me, my rubber stamps and the iron. It was dizzifying. Other than that I fussed around feeling like a big loser and stomping my feet. I'm cranky.

Oh but I also took pictures of the new kimono-inspired jacket I just finished.
I have obi fever. I made a black one with gold stitching for a friend for the holidays, then a black and brown one for etsy, then this one. I've been wanting to mix gray with gold for a while and was happy I had enough fabric to churn this out. This obi is reversible - here's a picture with the gold side out. It has free-form gray stitching - click on it for better details:

this is not a product placement ...

2007-12-23T12:36:00.000-05:00

... but I did just spend a few moments gazing longingly into my thread drawer. Ahhh, thread. When I was a neurotic non-artist I couldn't really enjoy having tools and supplies because they caused me more agony. I wasn't using them, or I wasn't using them the right way, or they sat in the corner mocking me, blah blah blah. Now I'm a neurotic artist and it's a joy to have things that serve me well. No added crap.

Today I've got 3 out of 4 discs of John Coltrane's Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings loaded into the cd player. Ok I admit it, I can't find the fourth one. But I'm still sure I'll have something sewn when the first three are done.

"The women who have led the craft movement don’t want to work for the Man."

2007-12-15T14:47:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite lines from the article about etsy in the 12/16/07 New York Times Magazine.

happy, warm.

2007-12-11T11:21:00.001-05:00

I'm happy for more than one reason today. I stepped up to the plate, resisted flashing my tattoos, and got picked for jury duty. I figured I could sew plenty in the evenings but when I got home last night I was fairly brain dead. Getting all hepped up preparing to pass judgment on another human then being asked to sit and sit and sit in various rooms for hours is really not an energizing experience.

Back I went this morning, where after a mere hour and a half in the juror's room, we were called into the courtroom and released. Apparently we looked so tough - even without tattoos - that they accepted a plea.

The other reason I'm happy is my new head warmer. My friend Beth of Big Geek Knit Blog made it for me. When you aren't patient enough to knit it's important to befriend those who are. It's keeping me toasty and warm. Sometimes I cheat and wear it around my neck.

Now I can get back to my sewing machines and post some new stuff on etsy. I have a few sculpted layering shirt-things ready and I'm just finishing up a dress. Hurray for warm happy and productive.

friendly empire building

2007-12-02T21:06:00.000-05:00

I just got secretlentil.com up and running. Right now it just sends you to etsy, flickr or here, but it's a start. It was nice to just jump onto Dreamweaver and whip it up - even that simple design would have been like pulling teeth a few years ago. Or maybe like growing new ones. Hurray for a learning curve.

once more for a simple twist of fate.

2007-11-29T07:41:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what compels people to blurt out "I've never won anything in my life" when they win something. Is it a strange form of modesty? Is it a fact? A protective utterance put forth in hopes of saving more luck for later? I just hope these people, who have just received word of their raffle or pie or Carribean cruise, haven't been silently labeling every other moment in their lives before that as losing.

Well, I won something.

Amanda Ryznar of YogaGoat Pottery put a post up on the etsy forum asking for help editing a blurb to describe her work. Space was limited and she wanted to keep "Spirited Hand-thrown Porcelain." I stared at her shop for a long time and after wiping the drool off my chin suggested three nice condensed words: "Spirited Hand-thrown Porcelain. Lush Fresh Design." And I won. I've never won anything in my life! I got to choose my prize from her shop - I'll soon be the proud owner of a lush fresh bird tumbler. Thanks Amanda.

I expect to never, ever lose again.