living a technicolor dream

Next month I'll be down in Atlanta, visiting friends and selling goods at ICE. I will also be there for the screening of Handmade Nation, which will be super neat to see, having heard so much about it. I'll also get to meed Ms Faythe Levine, face to face, after chatting back and forth for a while about a couple different projects of mine. One of those projects is sending a piece to the Handmade Nation Silent Auction, a show of amazing magnitude--check out the company I'll be in!



Really, I just thought all these pictures went together well, so actually there is no cohesive theme in today's post. Except that it's about me, I guess, since it's my blog.


So here's the green bag, out in action this past weekend, holding my jacket and wallet. The camera was glued to my face all night. Neal M.F. Harper is the kind man who introduced me to my very own kind man. He owns the World Famous Milestone. That night he also poured more alcohol into peoples' guts than I'd seen consumed in ages.

Then there's the package I recently sent to darlingest Tess. A long time ago, in a land far away (actually I still live in the same place. . .) and in what now seems like a different lifetime, there was another man in my life. One who promised me the world, one who supplied and fueled perfect dreams. . . I was young and idealistic, and believed them all, ate it up like cotton candy.
Shortly into our relationship, he moved to Japan, telling me to join him there after he settled in. I started embellishing clothes and selling them on eBay. He settled in and moved on while I kept making clothes, some from scratch, some just embellished with hand stitching and applique. I pined and pined and pined my days away by little stitches, until the pain subsided and I had a closet full of brightly colored clothed decorated in robot skull and bubbles. Soon after that, I had a local shop ask me to do a fashion show of my work, after which I gave almost everything away (binge/purge much?) but every once in a while I find a straggler. Each time I find one, I stare at it a couple days before it ends up in the constant "take it to the thrift store" pile we seem to have lately. Except this one. This one had to go to Tess. When you see it on her, you just know it was made for her. . . 4 years before we ever met.