I've been on an art trip around Olympia, and I feel like a gadfly! I started at the gallery on the West side, The Artist's Gallery. I had a lovely spot, lots of room to show my stuff, but there was so little traffic, it just didn't seem worth the time. So I decided to withdraw, with no plans for another gallery. Wayne and my working on our re do trailers takes lot of time, and my energy level was so low, that seemed to be all I could handle. I also withdrew from the Manje Gallery in Edmonds, where I have sold for 5 or 6 years.  And then I sat.  I worked at the shop, which is fun and great to be with Wayne all day, we work well together.  I fussed around home, getting darn near nothing done. And something was missing.
I have thought of myself as an artist for  lots of years, at least 35, I'd guess, and that was the missing part of me. I did know that the artistic side of me was important, but I hadn't realized until I wasn't creating anything much how important. I felt like I'd gotten rid of a part of me, and I sure didn't like it!  It was one thing to decide how to remove all the  years from an aluminum window, very satisfying and hard work, and totally another to chose and create the fabric, the garment, the scarf by my own talent. And I missed that, along with the "thinking" time that goes with creation.
So, an opportunity came along to jury for a gallery on the boardwalk in Olympia, Splash. Pretty nice, good work all around, and you sign up for a 3 month trial period. The artists were welcoming, the space was good, the location seemed wonderful. And the sales were nil. Nothing for two months , aside from good words and smiles all around. The time it took to be there along with the cost of the space was not proving to be a help to me, and to tell the truth, I was embarrassed that I had no sales. The third month I did sell some things, lower in  price range, but with my trial period coming up, and the costs of being there without sight of payment, I had to admit that I couldn't stay there and just hope. So I removed myself once again.
I contacted the owner at Manje Gallery, and she graciously let me back into her sales floor.
The very time I was out of Splash Gallery, a new gallery was opened, called Gallery Boom. Much lower in price per month, less time needing spent at the gallery working, and something new and bright, and , again, full of possibilities. So I've taken the leap again, trying to find an audience for the things I love to make. I have a smaller space than I've had before, a longer commitment, and again high hopes. Christine, the owner, is full of energy and positive vibes, and I hope this  turns out to be true. We're not in the main part of downtown, could be a problem, and a year to go seems like a long time. But I've made one little sale already, which helps me to look forward to this year with a happy face and a hopeful heart. It is important to me to have sales, other wise I will be covered and smothered when I die with tons of fabric and scarves, with my angels on my belly and back. And armpits and elbows.  But I am happy to be creating again, and I know I have room in my life for both the trailers with Wayne, and the wonderful and almost wonderful things that come out of my studio. Now if only I could keep house!

Priest Lake

The Initial Cruise
Dad bought a "get away" lot on Priest Lake, Idaho, and probably then told Mom how much fun this camping spot was going to be for all of us. Mom was a good sport for most ventures Dad was up to, so off we went to see the new lot.
The 5 of us , Mom, Dad, myself, Nancy and Marianne, the baby, piled in the Plymouth one fine Spring day, heading for the wilds of Idaho. Of course, Dad knew a short cut- after our stop for lunch at Dhiarea Dolly's-( named after the fact and the truth!) We headed up a one-car-wide dirt mountain road, bumps and all, one side mountain, one side wide open canyon. We rounded a curve after several miles, and ran right into a 5' high snowbank! No one told the Idaho mountains it was Spring. There was no place to turn around, so Dad started backing down the mile or more to a wide enough spot to turn around. A few minutes was all it took for Mom to holler "stop"!  With a comment that "Merritt, you're going to kill us all"- we hiked behind Dad and the car, Marianne in Mom's arms, Nancy holding one hand, and me holding her coat tail.
After a turn around and another long ride, we finally made it to the Grandview Motel on beautiful Priest Lake, and got a room for the night. All of us. Long night!
Morning light barely peaked over the lake, wind blowing and gray skies, and Dad loaded us into a rented kicker boat, headed again for our little piece of Heaven, according to Dad. Now Priest Lake is huge, and near  as I could tell, there was no way to tell one lot from another. But our intrepid father never let the facts get in the way of his idea of fun. The farther we got out to the middle of the lake, the harder the wind blew. White caps everywhere and water on our feet in the leaking boat. Nancy and I, all of 5 and 9, were handed empty coffee cans and were told " Bail girls, bail! Merritt Johnson, you're going to kill us all!" It was a long voyage, Anne a baby, crying, Nancy and I and Mom sure we were going to drown, and Dad grinning from ear to ear saying "Isn't this fun?!"

The Fun Stuff!
We spent many years enjoying Priest Lake- the clear clean water, the beautiful forrest, hours of swimming. First Dad built a "kitchen"- a long board between trees to hold the camp stove and the dishpan. Water was hauled from the lake to drink, wash dishes, and for Mom to wash diapers. ( Did I say what a good sport Mom was?!) Next my father, the king of napping, built a love seat out of logs  to snooze on. He could take a nap there, going to sleep on command, Army training no doubt, but it was so uncomfortable the rest of us sat on stumps and rocks!  The crowning building project was the bunk house.  (After the outhouse, of course). It was big enough go a double bed, built of logs, and lumber and one crib, hauled in by boat. Nancy and I spent one soaking wet 4th of July laying in an old Army pup tent kicking each other while Mom and Dad and baby Anne did whatever they did in the bunkhouse- we were not let in despite the rain and the reading and re- reading many times our one comic book. At the time, I thought they were just mean- but maybe thee was a little "afternoon delight" going on in there!
I did truly love our times at Priest- I spent many happy hours building rafts and navigating up and down our cove, and I still puff up with pride when I remember my first swim-in to our lot, while the rest of the family went on ahead by boat. We picked and ate a lot of huckleberries, watching for bears all the time. ( I never saw one!) Nancy love to fish and visit with our neighbors, the Hughes. Mr. Hughes, Mike, was a gruff speaking man who enjoyed Nancy's company. (The Hughes had a real cabin, which we never had while we owned the lot.) I took my first boyfriend one family camping weekend, where Dad embarrassed him by asking him to chop wood for the fire and he didn't know how.Dad was not impressed!
Mom was the good sport who cleaned up the baby Anne, as she crawled in the dirt, washed her  diapers in a bucket of cold lake water, and made meals while killing ants and swatting mosquitos.All this while packing in and out all the things we used by boat. And she smiled!  Dad loved being outdoors, and in a place with no phone and no clients. No Farmer Brown could call with a problem, no will had to be drawn up, no divorces taken care of. He fished to his heart's content, built with logs using his skills learned and enjoyed as an Eagle Scout, and snored loud enough while napping smooshed on his love seat to keep away any critters!
Priest Lake was a wonderful part of my growing up-an idyllic spot where I was free to read as long as I wanted, swim until I turned blue, and eat s'mores until I was sticky. Our family was there alone-together. At home we all went our separate ways, but at Priest Lake we had each other, the water, the campfires. That's where I first found the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and Dad tried to teach us the other constellations. It was a wonderful magical place.
I've gone back to Priest Lake once, and it's still beautiful there. The water's still clear, the stars are still unbelievably bright- but the family I love, the ones I grew up with weren't there. The me that was- was no more. The memories are still fresh and strong. So Priest Lake, thank you. A wonderful young and fresh world, like no other place or time. What a memory!

One day a few years ago I was riding in our "cool" '52 Ford Pickup, arm out the window, wind blowing in my hair feeling 16 again. Then another part of me was moving in the wind- my "grandmother's" arms! When did this happen, the sagging wrinkled skin arms, during the night before? Face it, Pam, 16 you're not. Or 46 or even 66. Your arms are proof, dried out, thin skinned and with movements all their own. There's only one way to hide the truth from the world and from yourself- long sleeves! Summer, Winter, Fall, spring- from 35 degrees to 104 degrees- long sleeves are the answer.
Now wait a minute, just what is the question? Are those flabby bags of "dead mice" arms still able to help tell a story, gestures and all? Yes. Are those wrinkled hands still strong enough to hold a baby, take your sweetheart's hand, write a note to a friend? Yes again. Are those wave-in-the-breeze arms still able to give friends a hug, haul in a clothesline, heft a sack of goodies at the grocery store, move the living room furniture yet another time? Yes, Yes and Yes again. Those are the questions, not the ugliness of the arms. They work. They hug. They hold. Hurrah! Those beauties are mine!

The news came today about the Larson Gallery Show, and I didn't make it. I'm very sad to not be included in this great show, but such is life. I still am proud of my creation, and really think they're missing the bet in Yakima!
This is part of being an artist, and probably is universal to all of us. We have the vision, we create the piece, putting our hearts in to our work. And sometimes others don't see what we do, don't realize that wonderful art piece is worthy of prizes and oohs and aahs.
So what happens next? The "Of the Vine" jacket goes onto the rack to await the next show. Maybe I'll get accepted at the gallery I've applied to, maybe not, that would be a good starting jacket there.  There is Artwalk in Edmonds in March, maybe the jacket will go with me there for the night.  There's always a woman who will love this jacket, and have the self confidence to wear it and enjoy the fun of it.  Time will tell, and nothing is lost. I'm disappointed in being turned down, and try hard not to take it too personally. Every juror has a different point of view, a different frame of reference. Evidently these jurors from Larson Gallery were blind.

"Of the Vine" jacket update!
The jacket is done, the entry is sent, and now I wait to see if my idea that became a reality is accepted for the show.
The assembling of the leaves on the fabric began with great gusto. I finished one side only to realize I had very few leaves left for the rest of the vineyard, the ground would be bare! Decision time, and really no choice. So out comes the seam ripper, and take off all the leaves I'd so carefully attached by hand. I start by counting and stacking the leaves so I'll be sure to have enough for 2 sides this time, and then get the sewing machine ready. Once attaching these slippery things by hand is enough. Practicality rears it's wise head!
The look is different than the chubby version I started with, it's much more airy and almost fairy like. I like it.  Next I stitch a few glass beads over the machine stitching that shows, that adds a little sparkle and is a good disguise for the machine work. ( One of my mottos is if you can't hide your mistakes, then make them a "design decision".) A few strings of round glass "grape" beads here and there and the jacket is almost done.

Next step is to create the triangle that holds the two straight sides together. This jacket I call the "Dragonfly Jacket" is based on an older Issey Miyake pattern, which is based on kimono. I use it a lot, it's very versatile and gives me lots of play space on the fabric. I use a piece of the original painted and dyed fabric, then add the wooden dangles for grapes. ( To dye wooden beads or buttons, sand a bit, then I soak them in a jar with liquid dye for a few days.) It's nice to have some dimension on that spot, it otherwise might get lost in the grape leaves!

I put this all together, then hem, hem, hem. The finished jacket really pleases me, and pretty much fulfills my dream piece.  Chris takes the pictures, Toni adds the name, and Wayne pats my back and tells me I've done a good job. Now I wait. If "Of the Vine" is not accepted for this show, I still have a beautiful one of a kind creation that I'm proud of, and I've brought one dream to reality1

"Of the Vine" jacket update!
The jacket is done, the pictures are taken, and the application has been emailed. The work went well, the jacket in my dream is now in fact. The two versions are close, although practical  design decisions were made along the way, as always happens. And I would have done the work differently, if I had to do it over. Which happily, I don't!
All the background fabric was done, then the leaf cutting began. I attached the leaves by hand, put one whole side together with great joy. Then I realized I had only a few leaves left to put on the other side of the jacket. Unless I wanted my vineyard to be half empty, do yards more dying, cutting and stitching, I had to remove all the leaves, strip the vines as it were, and start again. My enthusiasm got ahead of my materials. This stuff happens, and you just grit your teeth, grab the seam ripper and start all over.
Second time around, the leaves were not as thick, the stitching was done by machine, and I divided the leaves in stacks before I started attaching them. I covered the stitching with glass beads and other leaves as I layered my way down the collar area of the jacket. This turned out to be a better look, not such a chubby jacket, and the jacket  body painting and dyeing shows, a good idea. Sometimes the second time around is better!
I added cords with round "grape" glass beads in a few places for fun, and then focused on the triangle piece that holds the jacket together in the back. This jacket design is based on an Issey Miyake pattern from several years ago, and I renamed it the Dragonfly Jacket, I use it a lot. For the triangle, I used a piece of the base fabric, then added some wooden beads I had dyed to give the illusion of grapes. ( To dye wooden beads and buttons, I leave them in a jar of liquid dye for a few days. Mostly it works.)
Sew all three pieces together, and hem and hem and it's done. I've left the leaves un-hemmed, or else I'd still be sewing. It will fray a bit, but not enough to take away from the look I wanted. Might even add to the soft flow of things. That's what I tell myself when the work becomes too impractical to be possible!
So now I wait. I've sent in my entry, done the work, with

 the help of Chris doing the photography, Toni with the name, Wayne as always with his support. If I'm not accepted for this gallery show, I still have a beautiful one of a kind jacket that I'm very pleased with, my dream vineyard in reality.