Work in progress

As I struggle with my latest work of art, I find myself looking back on the last one to see how it progressed. It was quick, that's for sure. I thought I'd put in a visual time line of the five-or-so days of work.

Spring really is here

It's spring, and the landscape is covered in a kind of green fog. It was really obvious as we drove back from Maine. Naked trees last so long. Clothed trees stick around, too. It's these few weeks where everything is soft and fluffy and putting on it's best show that make me wish I could hit the pause button. If there's no fog where you are, I'm sorry.

"Reservations"-Five

I'm a little late in getting this post out. We went to Maine for the weekend and had some packing to do, so anything I wanted to say about this piece after just having worked on it has faded a bit. I'm going to post anyway, though it may be brief... or not.

Creating this piece hasn't been as easy as "How Much Time Have You Got?"—that one kind of just spilled out onto my surface. This one is a lot of pulling and pushing. Sometimes I think it's going one way, but then it doesn't seem to make sense, so I pull it another way—back and forth like that, that's how it seems to be with me.

You'll have to forgive the quality of the image. I took the photo by a window, so there's a bit of a reflection coming in on the left side. I'll try to get a better one next time.

Okay, so what do we have going on since the last time? Well, the designer in me is starting to get more involved, so I'm looking for flow. Catholic-school-boy in the hat was just a little too eye-catching, so I'm toning him down a bit.

I spent a lot of time working on the axe. I'm still not quite sure why he's carrying it, but there it is. So I was working—I made a blade, painted over some of the words, made a wooden handle—and the more axe-like I tried to make it, the less it made sense. Nothing in this image is real, why should I believe that the axe would be? At that point I decided to just cover it. And what did I choose? Flowers. What the heck kind of axe is that?

And numbers—again with the numbers—they're not quite right. One of them will go, or change. But I like words and pictures, or maybe I like pictures (almost always of people) and symbols, so that's why you see them—my work needs to have them.

I like the squiggly lines I added to Pinocchio's chest last time. They look like my chest feels when I get anxious. I'm not sure that I'll do anything to change them. Maybe I'll just look at them for a while, and maybe they'll let me tone them down soon.

On another note, this weekend my grandmother wandered off for the first time. She left her house in the middle of the night and went walking, confused (maybe that's her up there in the corner at the end of the path). She's okay—not hurt, but it's obvious that decisions need to be made. Tomorrow it will be eleven years since my grandfather died. He was a bit of an artist himself, and I loved him dearly.

"Reservations" Step Four

I went to the studio and just stared for a while—I wasn't sure what I was doing there. I picked up some magazines that were laying about and tore some pictures out of them. It all seemed to move so slowly.

And I'm not sure about my working title anymore. It's going to take some thought.

This is a difficult collage for me because the potential meanings are limitless. When doing a search about Pinocchio, Wikipedia told me that his shirt was made from a flower-patterned paper and that his hat was made out of bread. Hmmmmn, that doesn't really do me any good. But I also learned that he may have been a misunderstood character, that his nose didn't just grow when he told a lie, but also when he was stricken with anxiety.


Pinocchio means something to me—I'm not sure what. He's made of wood, so he's not really in tune with his senses. He's a puppet, so he's not really in control, and he's not real, though he has dreams of becoming real.

Back to the work tonight. I was doing more visual design stuff than storytelling. Somethings were standing out too much. Others were just unimportant. I took some chances. We'll see how I feel about it tomorrow. As the piece progresses now, the changes may become harder and harder to see, so hopefully my audience won't get bored with my postings.

While I'm at it...

Seeing the cartoon made me remember the strings. And remembering the strings made me think of the Disney version of the cartoon and the song.

And of course, it wouldn't be complete without the lyrics. I never knew what that Russian doll was saying.

I've got no strings,
To hold me down,
To make me fret,
or make me frown.
I had strings,
But now I'm free,
There are no strings on me.

Hi-ho the me-ri-o,
That's the only way to go.

I want the world to know,
Nothing ever worries me.

I've got no strings,
So I have fun,
I'm not tied up to anyone.

They've got strings,
But you can see,
There are no strings on me.

*Dutch Puppet*
You have no strings,
Your arms is free,
To love me by the Zuider Zee.

Ya, ya, ya,
If you would woo,
I'd bust my strings for you.

*French Puppet*
You've got no strings,
Comme çi comme ça,
Your savoire-faire is ooh la la!

I've got strings,
But entre nous,
I'd cut my strings for you.

*Russian Puppet*
Down where the Volga flows,
There's a Russian rendezvous.

Where me and Ivan go,
But I'd rather go with you, hey!

*Pinocchio*
There are no strings on me!

Who knew that Diana Ross and the Supremes also recorded a version?!

Pinocchio, a revival in interest

A good friend of mine saw the very beginnings of my Pinocchio piece and brought me this cartoon today. See? I am totally on top of the new Pinocchio trends. Just wait, he's going to start popping up everywhere.

"Reservations" Step Three

This evening I got four hours of uninterrupted studio time. That was four hours of me making scribbles and marks non-stop. At first it seemed like the whole thing was a waste of time, that it was all crap and that I was trying too hard. And there was that inner voice that kept saying it—You're trying too hard to make something. I kept working anyway. I kind of knew that I wouldn't be ready to leave until it felt right. I just kept going.

Music selections for this evening started out random. I tried picking up on some old favorites that are good for settling me in, but they just weren't cutting it. My painty fingers kept reaching for the dial on my ipod. I even tried the soundtrack to Titanic, thinking that the bagpipes might do the trick. I know, you're questioning my sensibility for even having it in my music library.Eventually I settled on a classic: Simon and Garfunkel Greatest Hits. I didn't expect to get much from it, maybe just a little company, but it was exactly what I needed—a little parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

I really thought I was making a lousy piece of crap, and nearly gave up and came home two or three times. Part of the issue for me was that I decided to work on a larger scale—thanks for the suggestion dear friend Paul. I'm not used to working so big, so this really involved stepping back and standing up a lot more. It's a challenge, but I'm glad I'm doing it. Even though part of me wanted to pack it up, another part of me kept reaching for it. I'm still not exactly sure what I'm saying here, but I like the word "reservations" and its various meanings.

At one point I decided that I really needed to "build" Pinocchio, so I started collaging his face with words from old newspapers. I rifled through my suitcase full of "stuff I could use to do a collage" and forced myself to just take some pieces and stick them in. Some just had nice shapes within them. Others have just been in the suitcase too long and were getting booted out by their roommates. (I still haven't found a purpose for the four five-and-dime plastic baby dolls, but their time will come, too.)

I kept fearing that I was doing too much to the piece—that there were too many elements, that I should quit before I totally trashed all the parts that I loved about it. But no, I kept going. I kept hearing my mind saying, I should go. Seven times I said that. And then there was just one stroke that made it okay—just below the chin, separating the head from the neck. At that stroke my mind said, You can go.

When I had stopped I felt breathless, like I had been running a long distance or something. I know it's not done yet, but I've left it in a place that will make me want to go back to it.

So what's it about? I guess it's a kind of self portrai—isn't all art a kind of self-reflection? My next visit with this piece won't be for a couple of days, if I'm lucky. Hopefully I won't lose the rhythm of feeling.

So there you have it. Feel free to comment on it. I appreciate the comments I got on my last piece, both publicly and privately. People were seeing things that I didn't see, and it was enlightening.

Working Title: "Reservations"

Let me start you off with a picture of where I left off last night. You see almost no traces of the original—perfect. The polka dots aren't part of the picture—it's an old shower curtain that I'm using to keep the mirror I'm working against clean. So do your best to ignore it. Okay, now that you're caught up, let's move on.

Where did all my shows go?

Those of you who know me from local high-end craft shows where I sell my hats might be wondering, Where's Denise and all her hats? Why hasn't she been doing any shows?

Things are really busy here at our house. My husband has managed to get himself involved in the very early first stages of a software start-up. He works a lot, but we're lucky—he often works from home. His office is just down the street, so even when he's there, he's not hard to reach. Still, it's a lot of work. I decided that I'd take it easy on him. He does all the setup for me at the shows—lots of moving heavy things, setting things up, taking them down. I think he needs that time to do his own things, either that or he'll get even less sleep than he does now.

He also let me off the hook. He said, "Don't worry so much about selling hats—why don't you just be creative? Be an artist. Make stuff you want to make." Generous words, indeed. So I'm taking it easy. I decided that I would keep making hats this year, but it will be because I really want to make them, not because I don't have enough of this or that to satisfy the masses. The only exception to the rule is commissions—I'll do a commission because it's a challenge.

I do have one show that I'm doing coming up. I'm doing Paradise City in Northampton on Memorial Day weekend. I haven't done that show since I was pregnant in 2008. We have the bonus of my family living in that area, so we get some extra support. Other than that, I'll do the shows in my studio building in the fall and winter (Open Studios and the Holiday Sale). Tax time next year is going to look a little ugly, but what the hell.

So there you have it. That's where I am. I should number the hats from this year and mark them "limited edition."

Mistakes? Who me?

Well, I started my next collage painting. Actually, I started it a couple of weeks ago, but it was just Sharpie on an old college painting at the time. Today was the real work, the kind where I'm sorry I didn't dress more appropriately for the occasion—I have a tendency to want to wipe my hands on my pants, you see. And, well I drop things a lot, on myself. I'm clumsy—it's part of who I am.

I went to the studio with a lot less energy than I had earlier in the day. You can't always get to your creative place when you want. It would have been nice to work out some of that mental energy, but it's fine. In the evening I showed up at the canvas board (yes, canvas board), anyway. Music was going to be necessary, but what to play? I decided to go with Wilco. There are some really great pieces that I like and some that make me cringe because they are noisy and hard to endure, but I think that's what I needed.

I was going to skip showing the original painting because it's just so awful, but there was a time and a place for it, and we all grow. Right? So if you're looking at this, please know that I hate the painting, too. I also get the benefit of watching it change, hopefully for the better. I didn't have my camera to take a picture of what I did today—which was a lot—but hopefully I'll get to it tomorrow before I make more marks.

Again, I'm going at this with a "no mistakes" kind of attitude. That really makes the process just as important, if not more so, than the product. I think this one has some kind of fairy tale theme since I decided to start with Pinocchio. And I have a copy of an old book of children's fairy tales that's a lot like one I had when I was a kid. I've been waiting to use it for something. The collage also has some religious aspects to it because I found one of my old Catholic-school text books. So that's where we're starting—a kind of religious fairy tale, or a fairy tale about religion, or religion as a fairy tale. Or maybe I'm making it all up, it's Pinocchio after all.

What I Wore Tonight

I got to be with other artists tonight. My husband was nice enough to put the munchkin to bed and I went down to a local gallery that was having an opening. They're showing the sculptural work of a couple of friends of mine—Susan Huszar and Gwen Murphy. What better opportunity to wear a hat? But the question became, Which hat?

I decided I should try out something new—something that had never been out of the studio before. I picked up a hat that had been a little tricky for me to finish—a very sculptural piece. It was one of those that sits waiting for a while before it gets finished.

The hat was a success, and I now feel confident that I'll have no trouble selling it. Heck, if I do, I'll just keep it—it was fun to wear. The show was great. I talked to so many people that I'm a little hoarse now. There was a lot of energy in the room, and it made me feel all hopeful and looking forward to the next time.

Earlier today I had a first-time experience—I built a hat right on a clients head! Normally I'd be too self-conscious to do any such thing, but shes the right client to try it with. It was a very interesting approach, and I now have a little something to add to the list of things that I need to finish up for her.

Tum, Tum, Tum

I bought my daughter a CD of Brazilian kids music yesterday. Brazilian music is just fabulous in general, and this Putamayo CD is no exception. I'm going to have to learn to sing the second song to her—the heartbeat sound is so fun. I found it on You Tube, so I thought I'd share it with you.



And here are the lyrics.

(Português) || (English)
No tempo que eu era só || When I was alone
E não tinha amor nenhum || And didn't have anyone to love
Meu coração batia mansinho: || My heart beats like this:
Tum, tum tum || Tum, tum tum

Depois veio você || And then I saw you
O meu amor número um || My number one love
E o meu coração pôs-se bater || And my heart started to beat
Tum, tum, tum, tum, tum. || Tum, tum, tum, tum, tum.

Dreams After a Nap

When I don't get enough sleep I don't dream, which is a really unhealthy state for me. but I have found that if I take an afternoon nap it's usually loaded with dreams.

I'm still a little bleary-eyed from having just woken up (a bit in a panic because I thought I had slept forever) from a 1.5-hour nap. These were some of the cool visions that I had:

First scene: I decided that what I really needed to do in life was to stand on my head from time to time. I know I've dreamed this before. What could it mean—that I need a new perspective? That I'm looking a things all wrong? Doesn't really matter. So in this dream I just get out of my car (which is parked on the side of a somewhat busy road) and take up a kind of yogic headstand, with my elbows on the ground. I reached my legs high into the sky and could feel my spine strengthening and straightening. Things felt better. (Totally a dream. A bit like the impossibility of flying.)

Second scene: I am at a party that's at a flea market. It seems that by the hour more and more vendors are coming, so this thing is getting huge. There are lots of antiques for sale, slightly used, some art pieces, too. I am in a room drawing on vellum. I'm drawing in a style that I have never drawn in before. I draw a woman and flames. A woman comes to me to look through my drawings. She wants to see if I have one for her. I ask her to tell me about herself. She says, "Well, I have this condition that's kind of hard for people to understand, but it affects my whole body." And as she's telling me this I could feel some agitation building in my own body. And I could feel my head bobbing up and down in agreement, like I knew exactly what she was going to say. And as my agitation grew, I could feel myself rising and floating uncontrollably. I found myself trying to stay in my chair by holding it with my legs, but my body just kept floating or maybe getting longer. My head was up near the ceiling. She told me that she couldn't eat food anymore and that there was nothing more the doctors could do for her. She would live though, but she had to go in for "nutrient treatment" every so many weeks. "But the good side," she said, "I don't have to cook anymore. And I don't have to cook for anyone else, either." By this time, my body was completely out of control and I found myself saying, "You see, I have this condition that affects my whole body, it's kind of hard for people to understand..." And she walked away from me.

Third scene: There's going to be a battle of superheroes in the suburbs. But they're really just C or D-level superheroes, nobody anyone would have heard about. In fact, they kind of switch sides from time to time just to add to the drama in their mediocre superhero lives. They're all kind of middle-aged, too, maybe a little out of shape. The problem is they've all decided that they want to go after this one particular member of their cast, but they're all fighting over who gets to go first. The scene changed before I could have them drawing straws.

Scene four: I've been left with too much to carry and I'm staggering my way back out of the flea-market scene. A woman stops me to smell my breath because she thinks I'm drunk.

Scene five: I'm in Portugal drinking tea with some family members out of tiny little tea cups.

Scene six: My 50+ Uncle is in one of the vendor stalls at the flea market, only he's there listening to music and making up rap songs. I look over and see my sister. She's trying to make up a really funny DJ name for him—that's just like her.

That should do it. Dreams are strange and precious places where anything can happen and will. I need more naps.

Liora: An attempt at a sketch

Drawing sinamay is so hard, but I figured I'd give it a shot, anyway. Here's a very basic sketch of what the hat should look like. The hat is made of sinamy straw, and has a mesh-like weave. It's a super-light material that likes to flow.

Liora: What she'll be wearing

Here are some photos of the mother-of-the-bride's outfit.



I spent yesterday and today dying the sinamay to the right shade of orange to match the sash. I like mixing colors, so it was a fun little experiment. I can't offer up a very good sketch of what I'm going to make because the material likes to dictate the design a bit. I have some general guidelines, though.

Now to start making the hat.

Next Commission: Liora

I've got a tricky commission coming up. Liora needs a hat because her daughter is getting married. They come from a conservative Jewish family, so Liora's hair will need to be covered. She loves hats, and the more flamboyant the better, but her daughter doesn't want her dominating all the pictures with enormous headwear.

She has come to the studio twice. Each time, we've found ourselves looking at a different hat to base hers on. Hopefully we've nailed it this time because I've set the finish deadline for May first—not a lot of wiggle room for correction.

I have to do a custom dye job on this one—the color is just too particular—but I've made a color similar to it in the past, so I'm not overly concerned.

Wish me luck.

Bouquets of Flowers

I'm itching for spring, and the words "winter mix" make my skin crawl. So I'm going back a little in time to look at the beautiful bouquets that I made from my own garden. Somehow, I don't mind cutting them if I grew them. There's also been an abundance, so they're hardly missed. And then, I get to teach my daughter the names of the flowers—very sweet.

Nobody Knows Me

I heard this song by the Weepies today and I liked it from the first few notes. The cover art for the album—love.

I find the video a little distracting, but I'll have to keep my ear out for more of their music. Sorry I couldn't figure out how to get the video to fit the layout.

No Such Thing as Mistakes (finished)

I could feel myself losing energy on the piece today. Sad, it was, and a bit of a relief, too. You can't keep throwing that much of that kind of energy into a project without losing a grip on reality.

This piece isn't much larger than a tabloid-sized piece of paper. You can see my roll of tape on the left for reference. And the largest portion of the work was done in five days, but the whole piece might be some six years old—I guess it's never to late to try again.

Since I could tell that the Muse was packing bags to go have a rest somewhere more peaceful, I decided that I had better wrap up. I hated to give it up, but I thought that, unfinished, I might come back to it carrying a different story, or worse—that I might never actually finish.

The story is still being told. Whenever I look at it I see something that I didn't intend to put there, and yet it all seems to make sense. I've enjoyed showing it to people, though it's dark—I like hearing what they have to say about it, what they see, or what they think they see.

If it wouldn't be too much trouble... I'd love to know what you see.

No Such Thing as Mistakes: 4

I feel so energized by making this piece that I just want to... I don't know. Shout? Scream? Dance? The Muse is present. I'm going to try to ride this wave as long as I can. I have no idea what I'll do when this project is done. And I have no idea when I'll know that it's done. Maybe is just keeps on going. Maybe it doesn't matter.

I'm trying to just keep trusting my instincts on this—avoiding thinking too much about what I'm doing, just letting it make itself. Well, I suppose that's not completely true—I'm also letting the designer in me work. Parts were unbalanced, the flow was being interrupted. I used some simple techniques to check the design. Maybe they can help you, too.

Tip one: Turn the piece upside down. See how you like it and whether it appears to need work.

Tip two: Look at it in the mirror—a different perspective really helps.

I hope the Muse is visiting you, too. Go make stuff.

No Such Thing as Mistakes: 3

When I wrapped up today, this is where my collage was. It's still not finished, but I'm making good progress.

Some patterns have developed in it that I don't like (like that 'X'-shape in the middle) so I'm going to have to go back in and see if I can fix that stuff. All in all, I remain really excited—about what I'm making, what I'm experiencing, what I'm expressing (however vague), and that I'm even doing this again.

No Such Thing as Mistakes: 2

When I left the studio last night, this is what the collage looked like.

Parts that I thought were important are disappearing. Things that didn't seem to mean anything are deciding to announce their presence. I went to this piece thinking I had nothing, and now it's telling me all kinds of stories.

I was liking the top portion, but the bottom portion was feeling a little disconnected. I started fixing that this afternoon. Oh, and I have to admit, I'm doing this as a total hack—I'm using really old acrylics that I had been thinking about FreeCycling, but thought they might be a lost cause. I use only one brush for paint (I use another for the Mod Podge—that's right Mod Podge!—that I'm using). I also have a bad habit of not changing my water as it gets junky—superstition maybe. You're not getting any apologies from me.

Funny for my studio-mate—he hasn't really seen this side of me, but he announced that it was "totally creepy and really great all at the same time," or something like that. I have to agree—it's totally creepy. And I love it.

No Such Thing as Mistakes

Let me start by sending my apologies to those who come here strictly for hat news. I'm doing other creative things, too, and want to use my blog to share them. My title says that there are no mistakes, but here I am, starting with an apology. I guess that's a kind of mistake, but we'll ignore that for now.

Every so often I get into a mood. I mentioned it once before. It's a strange feeling. As it builds, it starts to feel like all my neurons are exposed—like I've had three cups of espresso, and no dinner. It's kind of cool and kind of scary all at the same time—like a wild dream.

Finding myself in this mood I went to the studio. I picked up a few hats but felt completely uninspired. So I decided to take a look at the wall of demons that I was working out.

I went to a piece that seemed to have no destination, and just started working. I decided today that there were going to be no such things as mistakes. So everything I did was going to be okay. I don't think I've ever allowed myself that before. I just went with it and it felt great. I started collaging pieces on here and there, not really knowing where I was going or what story I was making. But making the piece made me feel a little free of the knot in my chest. I returned to the studio later in the night to continue. I tuned into some of my melancholy friends—Belle and Sebastian—for example.

This is going to be a series of posts showing the progress of the piece I'm working on. Sadly, I just realized that I don't have a photo of where this piece started this week. I can tell you that I started it yeeeeears ago, and it has just been waiting for me. I thought it was in the "demons" post, but oddly, it's not there. Hopefully the repetition won't leave you feeling bored, that my goal in life is to be an echo. I think it will be interesting to watch where this thing goes. I have no idea.

I've been enjoying making it so much that I have to say that I'm really glad I wasn't inspired to make a hat. I needed to make something much deeper.

If you're one of the many artists out there struggling to be creative—stop. Just go make something. There's no grade. Nobody cares. Don't make it for anybody else but you.

Catherine Evans: Studio Inspiration No. 2

Catherine Evans is another artist in my building whose work I admire. When I describe her work to people I usually say something like, "It's not the kind of thing one could easily hang in their home, but it's the kind of thing that needs to be made and seen." Is she a painter? Yes. Is she a sculptor? Yes. Is she a recycler? Absolutely. All the work is abstract and seems to have some element of repetition. She uses tons of recycled materials—old soda bottles, bottle caps, yogurt cups.

When I see her work, my auditory system gets triggered—there's a rhythm to what she makes. I hear the high keys on a piano, fog horns, branches scraping against branches. I love that.

Catherine has a solo show in our gallery going on right now. She also got a grant to offer a couple of workshops. The first workshop was working with marker on a type of composite-wood panel. There's a large piece in the show that was done with this technique. It's a great piece. I made sure I was at the workshop. So I got to make a little something inspired by her work, and that something ended up as a gift for someone the very same day.

The materials were left out, so yesterday, when the studio was quiet, I went and made another. This time, instead of the conversation that bubbled through the air as we worked, I had silence and my own breathing. The circles that I was drawing stopped being circles. I briefly imagined them as hats as seen from above. Then I saw people below them. Then they just became people in a space or across the globe. No two are alike. Well, actually, two of them ended up the same, but these things happen. They're at opposite ends, anyway.

It was a nice little meditation and I liked that something that started as random circles started to mean more to me.

The Shadow

This is the shadow cast by one of my favorite hats.

Learning to Rewrap my Head

A good customer-turned-friend came to me with a challenge—teach her how to wrap her head. Now, I'm not really known for head wrapping. That is to say, I don't sell scarves, and rarely do I wear a headscarf these days. I did, however, back in my lazy college days, wrap my head in fabric to avoid having to style it—yup, I was la-zy.

My friend's needs are more pressing—she's going to lose her hair. The good thing is that she already loves to wear hats—heck, she loves to wear any stylish accessory. And she wears everything so boldly that I wasn't surprised when she came to me speaking of African head wrapping. The visit to the studio went well. We laughed as we tied.

During the visit, I recalled speaking to a woman who had approached me at a show. We were talking head-covering because she happened to work with chemo patients. She explained a technique to me in which you use part of an old T-shirt as a wrap. It sounded great, but I never got around to trying it.

Back in my studio I had one T-shirt—kept there in the event that I needed a shirt change. I grabbed it and cut it as I was told to—straight across below the sleeves. We proceeded to work a little with it. It wasn't a great solution for someone who really adores adornment, but it would help in a pinch.

After my friend left, I picked it up again. I put it on and sat with it for a little while. Then the answer came to me—it needed a little filling out. Then it was just right. If you can find a T-shirt with an interesting pattern, even better. Pair this with a pair of big earrings and a bold necklace, and suddenly you're wearing it and looking like a queen.

I decided I'd make a video of how I put it on, both to show my friend and to have as a resource to anyone else out there who might find themselves in a similar situation. You'll have to forgive my appearance—it was nighttime and I was already in my pajamas. (Let me just add how much I hate seeing myself in videos.)

The Waters of March

I love this song. Aside from this Brazilian version by Elis Regina and Tom Jobim, there's a really beautiful version of the Waters of March (as Águas de Março) with English lyrics sung by Susannah McCorkle. It's a song about life and all that it holds. And, well, it's March, so I thought I'd share.

Hopefully spring will return to Massachusetts. I'm tired of walking carefully and daydreaming about warmer weather and buds on beech trees.

The Envelope, Empty

The other night I had a dream that I mailed an envelope—an empty envelope. Sounds perfectly boring, doesn't it? But it wasn't. This was no ordinary envelope. It somehow managed to contain all of me in it—my thoughts, wishes and ideas—all that I wanted to express and share with the world. And I mailed it, far away. There was no address on it and no return address on it for me to be able to get it back.

These are the strange things that come into my mind as the pain of creativity tries to find its way back to me.

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Twitter: denishehats
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And you can always take a look at some of my hats on my Web site, though it's hard for me to keep up with everything I make. DenisheHats.com

A Song Stuck in My Head

Pure Imagination from the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory—every so often I get it stuck in my head. It's not such a bad song to have stuck really, I suppose. But after the first few times of my brain playing it for me, I finally found myself thinking about the lyrics.





Come with me
And you'll be
In a world of
Pure imagination
Take a look
And you'll see
Into your imagination

We'll begin
With a spin
Traveling in
The world of my creation
What we'll see
Will defy
Explanation

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanna change the world?
There's nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly wish to be

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanna change the world?
There's nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly
Wish to be

It happens this way for me, and probably for you, too, that a song appropriate for what's going on in my life will plant itself in my brain. I'll catch myself singing sort of absent-mindedly, when finally, the lyrics catch up with the part of my brain that's supposed to be listening and paying attention. It's funny to think about the kinds of messages we are trying to tell ourselves. As you might guess, this one comes to me when I'm working in the studio.

YouTube - Pure Imagination

Welcome to the world of my imagination.

Working Out the Demons

I was in a mood a little over a week ago. Ever have that? It happens to me every so often—here comes Mr. Mood being all chummy. I didn't know what to do with him. I got a little tired of just listening to old music that would make my heart hurt (Billy Holiday, Marlena Dietrich, that sort of thing). So I opened up an old suitcase that I keep of collage materials and in it I found some of my work.

It was strange to see unfinished things that I had done or started years ago. I flipped through them, made a neat pile, and stuck them back in the suitcase... for a few minutes. Then I opened the thing back up, pulled the work back out, and hung a few pieces on the wall so that I would have to think about them. I had a couple of painted boards that I took a Sharpie® marker to, writing and writing until I felt like I didn't have to anymore—I could always paint over them. It was cathartic. I feel better.

When in doubt, get your Sharpie® marker out!

Dream One: The hat continues...

A few posts back I mentioned that I dreamed of a very cool hat, and that I was going to try to make it. Immediately I built the foundation for it, then applied the felt to it. But after that, it kind of fizzled for a bit. Yesterday, though, I took pity on the poor, little thing and began making the tentacle pieces.

I'm not sure what kept me from working on it, but I just couldn't. I had a little extra time yesterday as I waited for some clients to come in for a visit (that will be another post I'm sure). So, I started working on it. I'm really glad I did—the hat is going to be great.

All of that makes me think of one of my favorite pastimes—travel sketching. It took a while, but I learned not to abandon a project. Sometimes some of the stuff that seemed like pure garbage at the beginning turned out to be some of my favorite work by the end.

Don't give up.

Some Fun in the Studio

In January I had three women come visit me in the studio. They tried on hats while I worked with another (very good) customer of mine. The studio was filled with laughter and the Polish language while they busied themselves putting things on their heads.

I was glad that they were patient enough to wait for me because I could see that they couldn't quite figure some of the hats out—as is often the case. But once I was free, I set all the hats right and we went about trying bunches all over again.

I love having groups of women in my studio. For me, they are my focus groups—I get to see where hats may need adjustments, whether or not they're comfortable, or whether or not they're nailing my idea. The women?—they get to see the possibilities. They get to see themselves in a whole new light.

Thank you to these three lovely women who made my day.

Side Projects

I mentioned several posts back that I like to keep a little busy work at hand in case the Lack-of-Creativity Bandit strikes. Well, have I got a project now!

At the beginning of the summer I picked up something called a "coffee table dining set" on FreeCycle. It's basically a table the size of a dining room table, but at the height of a coffee table. The table came with four very cool armed chairs that look like vintage dining room chairs, but are short to fit under the table. It's the chairs that got me—they are pretty darn cool. I'm guessing the whole set is from the early sixties.

So how is that this set has become a side project? Well, the upholstering on the chairs is totally trashed. And it's obvious that the set was well esteemed in the family because it has tags on if from the last reupholstering it had in West Virginia. Now it's my project. I'm guessing that since I have a toddler it will probably take me about four years to complete the project.

By the way, if you've never reupholstered anything, it's an amazing amount of work to take all the fabric off since you need to preserve it for a pattern, not to mention documenting the whole thing so that everything gets put back in the right order.

There you go—no more down time. Hopefully I won't regret this.

Keeping my Eyes Open for Inspiration

I picked up these little beauties while visiting a dear friend's mother in a nursing home. These are seed pods from what I believe it the Catalpa tree. I'd love to just stick them right on my head. I keep stuff like this around the studio because nature is unbelievably inspiring. What's growing or buried in your surroundings this time of year?

Never Let it Outshine You

Ideally, you want a hat that won't outshine you, right? At least, that's my philosophy.

A good hat will enhance your best facial features, minimize the stuff you don't like, and won't look like some kind of parade float on your head. And it all really depends on your face and more importantly—your attitude.

I often wear funky, eye-catching pieces on my head, but I make sure I never let them dominate. I'm lucky to have pretty strong facial features, so I can get away with a lot, or I use my clothes to balance the look out. I also have the right attitude—put it on and forget about it! If you're self-conscious about what you're wearing, people will sense it.

So, when choosing a hat, look at the whole picture of you and not just what you're putting on your head. Adjust the hat, adjust your attitude, walk out the door and shine.

Photo courtesy of Flickr: vinceconnare

Amy Goodwin: Inspiration in my own studio

I was talking to my best friend about some of the many artists within my own studio building, ArtSpace Maynard, who really inspire me. I talked about it for a good clip and finally she said, "Blog about it." Of course! So this is the first of what I hope will be many posts about what I'll call artists in my own back yard.


When I walk into ArtSpace I have to pass by the studio of Amy Goodwin. I'm always happy when I see her light on because it means that I can go in to "fuel up"—get my creativity revved up— before heading to my own studio.

I want to say that Amy is a real artist, but people come at that word "artist" with so much baggage that it seems a little trite to use it. In fact, she'd probably roll her eyes at me if she read it. I'm better off describing what Amy does that defines her as such and makes her work so wonderful.

Amy Goodwin plays—she plays lots. Walking into her studio you'll see four, five, maybe six projects in various stages of completion—most completely unrelated to each other. From encaustic paintings of swimmers, to bold-colored patterns, to flocked plastic animals, nothing is out of her creative reach. Her art is never forced or tedious. It seems that she often works with no particular goal in mind, like she's just going along for the wild, beautiful ride. And to me that's just perfect.

Dream One: You had a whole lot of fun...

My last posting was about getting some sleep to tap into the creativity of your dreams. Now we get to the dreaming part.

I have some dreams that are my equivalent of flying, too many to list, and some you'd have to really know me to understand why they'd be like flying. But one dream theme that makes me sail is hats.

Usually in the dream I'm visiting a very cool hat shop and trying on hat after hat. It's a bitter sweet dream because as I'm putting on and loving each, another part of me is envious and starts thinking, Why didn't I come up with that. It's a great idea. And when I wake up, I still have those pangs of envy. Silly, right? I mean, I made those hats in my sleep.

I had a cool hat dream not that long ago, but in this dream, I had designed all the hats. They were all either teal or this beautiful, rusty red that I have. There was one hat in particular that stood out in my mind, and I'm setting out to make it now. Lucky for me, in the morning I drew up a sketch of the hat—I wouldn't have been able to keep the energy of it alive otherwise. I'm not sure if I'll actually be able to make it, but if I can it will be a lot of fun.

So here's the sketch. I hope to be able to show the finished project sometime in the future. Cross your fingers!

Creativity Tip: Get some sleep!

It's a simple thing to say, but it's easy to get caught up in doing things you love, and not take enough time to get some shuteye. I'm certainly guilty of not getting enough sleep, I have a toddler, after all. But once in a while I'm good to myself and it really pays off.

For me, the more sleep I get, the more I dream—and I'm blessed with pretty cool dreams. Once I get to eight hours, ordinary becomes extraordinary and I'll occasionally move into the lucid dream state. That's always a trip. But along with all the coolness come some really great images or ideas—impossible things never before thought of. Dreams are good like that—they don't care about reality.

So if you find yourself in a creative slump, try loading yourself up with sleep—a lot of it. Sure, eight's nice, but see what happens when you head in toward ten.

Also, write those dreams down quick—they'll slip through your fingers before your first cup of OJ. Write them down even if they have nothing to do with your art or anything your interested in. Dreams are kind of vain—they like knowing that you care enough to remember them. Jotting them down is the best way to get your head to start paying attention.

So, if you're showing up blank at a blank page, go get some sleep. Make time for it. It's important. Let me know what you see.

I Hate Fashion

How can I say that, right? Here I am, trying to convince people to wear something on their heads. Something that will supposedly make a statement about them, right? Let me say it again I hate fashion.

Ask my mom, she'll tell you—there's not much that I hate more than being told what to wear. And that's exactly what fashion is about.

Yesterday I found myself waiting at the hair dressers, flipping through magazines. I don't often get a chance to look through fashion magazines, so this was my chance. What's in, what's out—I both hate it and am drawn to it, like a bad accident.

So here's what I'm going to say to you. I might tell you about a hat trend (since there seem to be many these days), but I won't sell you on that. I think people should choose to wear stuff they like, stuff that makes them happy. That's pretty much it. So go out there and buy things that make you feel like yourself or the you that you want to be, not the someone that everyone else is trying to be.

I'm a Pen

It's not fun, but it happens. I was complaining to my studio-mate about a commission that I have, and he told me that what I was complaining about he and a friend referred to as "being a pen."

Here is how you become a pen: Someone commissions you to make something. Then they tell you all the details of how it should be made—exact distances from this to that, exact colors, a brim no wider than 'X', but certainly not less than 'Y'. "But be creative, after all, it's your art." Right.

Here's the problem with asking someone to be a pen: It's all you get. I'm an artist. I like to create. If someone asks me to make them something and gives me lots of creative freedom, I feel I owe it to them to go beyond their expectations. If they are simply using me as hands to create something they've got in their own mind, I'm only going to deliver what is asked of me. Why should I go above and beyond?—It's obvious that they're not interested in my creativity.

And yet, here I am, a pen. Why? The woman really needs a hat. She's got a tough little head to fit, and in the end I feel for her. Let's hope she likes it.

Don't ask me to be a pen, let me be a paint brush.

Making a Wish

I was just reading through an old sketchbook/journal and found a tidbit that I like. I was writing about making wishes—which I never much believed in. In fact, when I make a wish I tend to make my request so ridiculously vague that it has to come true. The wish is something like I hope I get what I deserve. I suppose that could be a double-edged sword, but as I said, I'm not much of a believer. In my journal entry, though, I found something new, a different approach that makes me look at wishing a little differently. It says When you get a chance to make a wish, make one for someone else—wishes are too self-indulgent. How long did that sit in my journal? Why didn't I hang on to it?

Let me see if I can remember to do it now. It seems like it would be helping me to push a positive attitude out into the world, and how can you go wrong with that? So all those opportunities to wish—eyelashes, railroad tracks, tags sticking out of your shirt, sneezing—let's put them to better use.

I wish for you whatever you deserve.

Try Not to See Real Stuff

I use my peripheral vision to see things. I let things creep into my brain from the side. I find that the stuff I think I'm seeing is actually more interesting than the stuff I'm actually seeing. So if I see something cool out of the corner of my eye, I linger there a moment, ask myself what it might be, then I let myself look at it.

The asking of what it might be allows me to hang onto that creative moment even when it's over. From there I may sketch what I saw. That sketch might turn into something, or it might not. That part doesn't really matter so much. It was the openness—that's what mattered.

Why the Movie "Autumn in New York" Sucks: a Milliner's Perspective

"Have you seen Autumn in New York?"
There was a time when I hadn't seen it, but then enough people mentioned it to me and I caved. We rented it and I watched, waiting for the fantastic millinery presence.

I can't judge the movie for it's cinematic characteristics—I'm easy to please and rarely dislike a movie. So I won't tell you that it was predictable and kind of schlocky. I will say that the millinery portion of the movie was a disappointment.

First point of contention: The client in the movie, played by Richard Gere, asks the character of Winona Ryder to design a hat "inspired by the curve in a woman's hip." Nice. I couldn't wait for it. What she delivered resembled absolutely no part of the female anatomy. When your client asks you to interpret something, you do it. You don't just say, "That's not really what I feel like doing today, so how about this big pile of sticks instead?"

Second point of contention (please forgive the extended background information): In asking Winona's character to make a hat, Gere was actually trying to lure the young milliner into going to a fancy event with him. So she was unknowingly designing a hat for herself. He tells Ryder's character that his date couldn't make it but he happens to have a gown that will fit her perfectly. Curious. Time comes for the event. She's got the fabulous dress, great shoes, an interesting shawl... Wait a second. Where's the @#%&! hat? She's not wearing it! You have got to be kidding me. And they don't even mention it. That she didn't wear the hat to the event says two things: One, that the Gere character didn't take her millinery work seriously, and/or Two, that the creators of this movie have it's details loosely tied together with cobwebs.

As a milliner, I took great offense to the product of labor not being shown. But hey, it's a movie, right? I shouldn't take a work of fiction so seriously. But now I've watched it, so if you come to me and rave about it and ask me if I've seen it... Well, expect an earful.

Getting Over a Creative Slump

It's important to have a pile of junk next to your work space. It doesn't have to be huge, just little bits of this and that. They can be related to your primary artistic goal or not.

When the creative slump comes, dip your hands deep into the pile of junk and just start putting things together all willy-nilly. Work for minutes, or hours, or days—however long it takes. It's a little like hitting a reset button.

After a while, your mind and body will find a rhythm again. Then you can decide whether or not to go back to your original project or continue with the junk masterpieces that you've been creating. Either way, you win.

I bought it, now I'm too scared to waste it

Sometimes I buy expensive materials that I'm then afraid to use. Here's what I've learned about that. Let that little piece of expensive or "precious" something-or-other sit for a while. Let it gather a little dust. If you wait long enough you'll realize that you wasted your money on it. At that point it's only right to use it with abandon. That's when the magic happens.

Being a Better Person

I love this very short audio story about Julio Diaz and about his experience getting mugged. I wish I could think fast enough to change somebody's life, which I'm quite positive he did.

http://storycorps.org/listen/stories/julio-diaz/

December Commission #1

I have a two-part commission going on in the studio. A young woman named Sarah has asked me to make two hand-sculpted berets for her to give as gifts.

In talking to people about work they'd like commissioned I find that it's more helpful if they talk loosely about what they want rather than give me specifics. The first allows me to be the creative person that I am, and therefore a more inspired hat is created. The second is more like production work and doesn't require much thought on my part.

Sarah came to me and gave me a style to work with—she liked something I had, but it wasn't exactly what she wanted. The good thing is that she's not a very visual person, so she had to talk about the likes of her mother and her aunt using lots of words, describing their personalities and their wardrobes. So we had a kind of conversation about it all that left me feeling good.

I'm plugging away at them in the studio. They're destined for not-so-distant and really-distant places. One will go to New Jersey and the other to Korea. I'm off to the studio to work on them some more.

I Wish My Studio Were More Like a Boutique

But it's not. My studio is bare knuckles. I keep chiding myself for it not being more elegant, but then I start thinking about trying to make it better and the thought of the work involved makes me itch.

This evening I had a revelation while working late. The studio is my workplace—it's a tool that I use to get my art done. In the end, the most important thing to me is the making of a hat, and that's it. Prettying up the place would only keep me from doing what it is that I really want to be doing, and that's making stuff to put on peoples' heads.

So, if you visit me in the studio, focus on the hats. And if the studio suddenly takes on a new and improved look, I either hired someone or hit a creative slump. Let's hope it keeps looking the same.

Where do they wear these things?

It's a question that I get asked often, especially when people are looking at the more interesting hats in my collection. I've decided to post answers to that question as they arise. If you are a Denishé Hat owner and have a story for me, let me know and I'll post it.

This is Linsey. She wanted this hat last year and was glad to see that I still had it. As a budding artist, she's into creating a look for herself. She's going to be wearing this little top hat to her prom. She promised me photos. Linsey, don't forget!

Man, I wish I knew me when I went to the prom. I would have looked so much cooler!

Paradise is Paradise

This weekend is Paradise City Marlborough. It has been a great show so far. I'm sure it doesn't hurt that I'm in a prime spot just opposite the visitor entrance. Still, I had a similar location a few years ago and I can't say that I did as well.

The crowds seem to be interested in opening their wallets. I get a sense that it's an attempt, in these tough economic times, for people to really keep their money local and to buy things that mean a lot to them.

I've been having a lot of fun. I consider part of what I do to be a service—to entertain people with the idea of hats, to make them see themselves in a whole new way, and to squash the idea of "I just don't look good in hats". Selling to a person who would have never considered themselves a hat wearer is something I take great joy in.

I find it particularly rewarding when people reach beyond ordinary, pick up one of my "more challenging hats", and join me in the land of possibilities. One such person today was Barbara. Barbara never met a hat that didn't like her, and my edgy hats just ate her up. Isn't she amazing in this Component Hat? She was such a delight, and I'm sure we'll meet again.

Open Studios: Observe the Artist in her Natural Environment

Open Studios at ArtSpace Maynard is this weekend. Come see where I make all my hats.

Do you have a special hat in mind—something you'd like to match another piece in your wardrobe? Just bring it along. I'll show you the materials I have available for your project.

Did you damage a hat that you bought from me in the past, or do you have another hat that could use a mend? Bring those by, too and I'll let you know if I can help.

Open Studios: 63 Summer ST., Maynard, Mass. October 2nd and 3rd, from noon to 5 p.m.
We have more than seventy artists in our building. If you are an artist, or just like looking at art, this is a great chance to visit some studios and ask some questions.

Bonding Over Hats

This weekend DeCordova Museum and Sculpture Park had their Family SculptureFest. It was a switch in both focus and time of the year for them—they used to have an event called "Art in the Park" in June. I think they still have some kinks to work out, but it was a great event for me and a wonderful event for all visitors.

Two sisters came into my space and spent a lot of time trying on nearly every hat—I love that. They were having such a good time that I assumed they were the best of friends. When I asked the woman with them which of the girls was her daughter she told me that they both were. Apparently they have their typical teen squabbles, but they seemed in perfect harmony bonding over hats. They even agreed to get hats that they both liked so that they could share them, and decided that each would help the other make sure the hats were on just right.

Don't they look lovely? Thanks girls!

Ten Seconds of Fame

Okay, it was longer than ten seconds. I managed to make the Zip Trip for Fox 25. Maynard's a great place to live and I'm happy to have been able to be a small part of showing it off. There are so many wonderful things that they didn't get to see, let alone show. If you're interested in seeing my spot you can look here. I'm about four-and-a-half minutes in:

The One Place to See in Maynard???

Fox TV Zip Trip is coming to Maynard on Friday July 30th, 5-9AM. They want to know which place in town (01754) is a definite must to visit. If you think the Denishé studio is worth note you can vote me in for the "place to see".