Ze name ees Reush....Reush d'Fleur

I have a secret obsession with high-end art deco jewelry. If you are thinking about surprising me with a drop-to-the-knees-gasping-for-air present (and have a spare $50,000 or so), there’s a suggestion. Something about the lines, the angularities in the designs, just does it for me. Frost it with some European cut diamonds set in platinum…how could you go wrong? It’s a secret obsession because in no way do I lead a high-end art deco kind of life. My job necessitates a lot of time bending, stooping, crouching, and sitting on the floor. My home is decorated with thought to good reading light and minimal dusting. Being a shy person, my social life consists of hanging out with friends, family, and my fellow textile junkies. Still, an obsession will find a way to be satisfied.

My mother’s side of the family were multi-generational pack rats. When my father moved into his little house, my siblings and I divided up boxes and boxes of stuff, including our grandmother’s rhinestone jewelry from the 1930’s and our mother’s lead crystal jewelry from the early 60’s. My sisters, lovely women with strange obsessions and vague longings of their own, took one look at the sparkly stuff and gave it all to me.

Around the holidays, I do find places to wear some of it, especially the big paisley shaped pin. I adore the earrings, but after about 15 minutes of clip earrings, my earlobes start to throb. You’d be amazed how much of the blood that circulates through your body goes through your earlobes. There is also a triple strand lead crystal necklace that I gave to my niece in Chicago. She wore it splendidly when she graduated with her master’s degree. But mostly the sparkly stuff sits in the original boxes, waiting for the right person, the right time, the right place.

A quick jump here……..every winter the quilt guild I belong to organizes a retreat around a theme. The committee decided last winter that the retreat would be organized around a mystery dinner theme and each retreat attendee would be assigned a character to play. We were given a name, a brief outline of the character, instructions to flesh this character out any way we liked and……to the ultimate horror of this shy person………we were to stay in character all weekend.

Yeah. No secret aspirations for a stage career here, let me tell you. My only theatrical appearance was as a cherry tree in the fourth grade George Washington’s birthday play. The whole idea sounded like a weekend of dental surgery.

A month or so before the retreat, I was assigned the character of Reush d’Fleur with some information on my quilting abilities. I figured she was French and I could get away with wearing a black turtleneck and a beret, do my usual wallflower imitation, and helpfully fade into the background while the more flamboyant members of the guild ran with the idea. Packing for the retreat, I went into my closet (otherwise known as the Home for Wayward Textiles) and Reush d’Fleur emerged.

Reush was a member of an obscure branch of fading European aristocracy. Part French, part Bulgarian, (I pre-faire to zink of myself as con-tin-ental,dahling.),swathed in vintage satin and chiffon, sporting a mink stole, and draped with the sparkly stuff, Reush was everything I am not. Graciously haughty, Reush spent the weekend being politely amazed that she was expected to carry her own luggage (Zaire ees no port-aire? So theese es like ze camping I have heard you speak of?) and wondering about the cafeteria line for meals. (Ees theese pree-son? Must I bang my leetle cup on ze tray for more coffee?) The rhinestones loved it. They’d been waiting over 50 years to play this part.

The sparkly stuff took over. I was channeling high-end art deco. It was no problem to stay in character, complete with cheesy accent. Reush airily related stories of her life and family (For centuries, ze name d’Fleur was associated weeth graite wealth and powaire……) while my fellow guild members stared with what was probably a mix of fascination and horror. As we got ready for Saturday night dinner, I begged Gladys to stop me. The rhinestones would have none of it.

After the retreat, the rhinestones were put back in the original boxes and I thought Reush would fade into the corners of the Home for Wayward Textiles. Still, the rhinestones will find a way to be satisfied.

I have a secret obsession with high-end art deco jewelry………………………….

Process and Product

“It’s like having a little tape recorder in your head that is playing at an incredibly high speed at an incredibly low volume. A little voice telling you about all the things you’ve seen and considered…..and you just want to get them out of your head.”

Peter Plagens, describing the process of painting

“Creativity is doing, pushing, experimenting, trying. Only by working his chosen media did he find their limits; only by trying to express his vision – however trivial, simple, or extraordinary – did he see it.”

Robert Taibbi Creativity: Working the Medium

Ted maintains my website for me. Well, he’d maintain it if I’d give him stuff to put on it. Every so often he gently reminds me that “it’s been awhile since there’s been something new”. With the last gentle reminder, I promised myself I would get out to the studio and get something finished. Progress is slowly being made……. as in slooowly the ice age receded.

I admire my friend Gladys’ way of working. We share studio space and have taken workshops together. She’s amazing. A flurry of intense activity and, next thing you know, there’s a fabulous piece of art. When I read Peter Plagens’ description of the process of painting, I thought of her right away.

Then, on the other hand, there’s me. My portion of the studio should carry the disclaimer that anything that vaguely resembles art is purely coincidental. I’m in love with the process and there is where the problem lies. This piece of fabric was shown at the art cloth show at the Quilt Surface Design Symposium a few years ago. I spent a few months and a few yards getting the nice purple-raspberry color I was picturing in my head. The black lines took about 20-plus hours, spread over two evenings after work, and were made by filling a little squeeze bottle with thickened black dye concentrate and drawing on the fabric. In a moment of experimentation several months later, it went into a blue dye bath. Then a yellow dye bath. It was sold at the art cloth show and my fellow textile lovers were horrified. How could I spend so much time on something and then let it go? Easy. The picture in my head was out in the three dimensional world now, so the yardage didn’t interest me anymore. The real pay off was discovering how to make a nice bronze-y color by layering lemon yellow over the purple.

The other problem with loving the process is the level of detail that can be included in the expressing the vision. This piece of fabric has been in the works for almost two years. I was driving down a highway in the fall of 2006 and missed a turn while admiring the way the sun shown through the fall leaves. Dash and I took some hikes in the woods, looking for leaves in “good” shapes. I photocopied the leaves and then made plastic stencils. With an archival textile marker, I spent many happy hours putting the leaf pattern on the fabric. I’m in the process of waxing the empty spaces between the leaves and will then wax the black lines where the leaves overlap. Then the plan is to mix up lots of autumn leaf colors and drop them into the leaf shapes. Is there an easier way to get the effect of sun shining through fall leaves? Probably, but it might not be as much fun.