Stitching Up The Noughties: A Blow-by-Blow

I arrived a bit early for my preview show at the ACME gallery on Friday night.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

The cocktail party was from 7 to 9pm and I wanted to take one last walk around the room before people started arriving.

On Wednesday, I hung the works and in the middle of the space installed a 19th century threadbare rug, a loom draped with a work in progress, a china teacup with the dregs of some Fortnum and Mason tea...

...a shambolic mess of tabloid magazines...

...a chair with a chain mail headrest (because I am an embroidery warrior) and black feather wings (because shouldn't they be required for every armchair traveller?)...

...and 125 cans of Diet Red Bull (no explanation necessary).

On the far wall was a floor-to-ceiling wallpaper I created from books in my personal library.

I wanted people to feel like they were entering an abstracted, exploded version of my brain, and that high literature + lowbrow tabloids + a lot of caffeine + tools of the trade = the recipe for my samplers.

(Wallpaper, detail)

Almost before I knew it, the gallery was packed with familiar faces and friendly strangers.

The signature drink was Pimm's Iced Tea.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

It was so gratifying to see people looking at my pieces and reading my work.

The gestation process for this show was long and at times, I had trouble seeing an end in sight. Now, here it was in front of me.

(Photos by Martha Adams)

I gussied up my loom by painting it black, studding it with brass nailheads and transforming it into a bespoke piece of equipment.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

According to my calculations, over 15,000 feet of cotton embroidery floss went into the creation of my samplers.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

Scary figures, scary headlines.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

I plan on returning to the gallery again and again over the next month to continue adding words to this piece in progress.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

Royal Apothic founder/blogger Sean O'Mara (on right) came and it was such a treat to see him...

(Photo by Martha Adams)

...as it was C&C California founder Claire Stansfield (on left) and fellow blogger Julie Anne Rhodes.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

Good friends, good neighbors...

...and very good eight-year-olds completed the mix of invited guests.

As for family, I was well-represented by my two men...

(Photo by Martha Adams)

...and my mother, sister and two nieces who had flown out from Michigan for the show.

(Photo by Martha Adams)

And now, the samplers...

There are ten pieces in the show, all at least three feet by four feet, with some even larger. (Check back for exact measurements.)

"On Tucking Your Daughter Into Bed"

"On Priorities"

"On the Price of Beauty"

"On the New Economy"

"On Aging"

"On Being Realistic"

"On Truth in Art, Part One"

"On Role Models"

"On Dark and Stormy Nights"

"On East vs. West"

Sorry, I can't figure out how to make the photo bigger by clicking on it. The text reads:

Soy chai latte, downward dog,

Hike up Runyon, kiss the smog.

Palm trees, glamour, sushi roll,

LA's tattooed on my soul.

But NYC is in my skin,

The noise, the crowds, the grit, the sin.

Subways, cynics, coffee black,

Will always keep me coming back.

.................

For those of you in Los Angeles, the show runs through May 29th. Gallery hours are Tuesday-Saturday, 11am-6pm. All price inquiries for the pieces should be directed to the ACME Gallery (323-857-5942).

I would like to give a massive thank you to o ACME owners Bob Gunderman, Randy Sommer and director Molly Concannon for their unwavering enthusiasm, support and killer cappucinos, to Sarah Walker for setting the proverbial ball in motion, and to all my friends and neighbors who have so generously helped me out with carpools and playdates these last six months (you know who you are).

Also, thank you to my dear friend Martha Adams, who so beautifully documented the evening.

Lastly, to my very own Piero and Luca, thank you for being ever-understanding, ever-encouraging and never once begrudging the months and months I spent bent over the loom or crouched on my hands and knees on the floor, head down, needle and thread in hand, silently counting counting counting.

Breathe.

Dear Ones,

I am in the throes of installing my show at the ACME Gallery. Hopefully that will be finished tomorrow as Thursday my mother and sister fly into town, Friday is the cocktail party, and Saturday is the opening.

Will you forgive me if I go on hiatus the next few days to wrap up all the details, play hostess, collect my thoughts, and prepare for the big night?

I promise to take lots of photos and report back on everything. And thank you all for your previously voiced support on my artistic venture; it means the world to me.

The Best-Laid Plans

It was supposed to be a weekend of therapeutic relaxation. Piero and Luca left on Wednesday for a four-day ski trip and I was going to celebrate the completion of nine pieces (and five months of stitching) by watching movies, taking outrageously long bubble baths, seeing a friend or two and being as unproductive as humanly possible.

On Wednesday night, I poured myself a glass of tartly sweet raspberry Lambic...

...watched a PBS special called "The Buddha" narrated by Richard Gere...

...and crawled between crisp, lavender-scented sheets at 9:30pm. Absolute bliss.

My vacation was short-lived.

At 2:30am, I awoke with a start. A fully-formed poem had come to me in the middle of the night. At first I tried to ignore it, but the words became louder and more insistent. Was this some sort of sadistic joke my brain was playing on me? Why now? Each sampler takes me 60 to 75 hours to complete. My framer had given me an absolute final deadline of Monday to have all my pieces in. Four days away.

Over and over the words resounded in my head.

Finally, I got out of bed to write them down.

"On The Price of Beauty"

Fill me, plump me,

Smooth me out,

Inject me with

a girlish pout.

Keep me spotless

and unmarred,

Just put it on

my credit card.

By the time I had finished, I could envision the entire layout, motifs and all.

My decision had been made.

On Thursday, I sewed from 6am to midnight.

On Friday, I sewed from 9am to 9pm (minus 45 minutes for a supermarket run to purchase protein).

On Saturday, I sewed from 10am to 10pm (minus a fifteen minute break for the One Kings Lane sale.)

On Sunday I rose at 4:30 am, worked through sunup, took a brief mid-morning blogging break to report on the OKL sale, and plunged my needle into burlap for the very final stitch at 2:30pm. My back ached, my fingers ached and my retinas were threatening to go on strike.

But it was done.

By the time you read this, I'll be racing to the Valley to drop the final piece off at the framer's.

And then I'm going to watch a movie, take a bubble bath, see a friend or two and be as unproductive as humanly possible. Lying on the sofa and staring at the ceiling sounds pretty good too.

Back on Wednesday (maybe Thursday).

Revelations in Thread, Part Two

President's Day, 6:30 am

Spring has arrived in Hollywood. The recent rainstorms succeeded in stirring dormant roots with memory and desire. Heading downstairs this morning, I noticed our pink magnolia tree is suddenly rife with blossoms. When did that happen?

(2/15/10, Hollywood)

An image stirs to life in my brain as well: an elegiacal Edna St. Vincent Millay in upstate New York communing with another pink magnolia. Is that photo really ninety-seven years old? It could almost be from the latest Anthropologie catalog.

(Photograph by Arnold Genthe, 1913)

In the kitchen, Piero and Luca are preparing to go skiing for the day. The Giramonti men are not at their best in the morning. Before fortifications (espresso and cereal, respectively), they find it near impossible to communicate.

After caffeine and calories, however, they become exuberance personified.

Before I know it, they have packed the car and are driving away.

The house is silent and distraction-free.

Quickly, I whip up my new favorite breakfast. Two months ago, I went on a three-week detox cleanse, courtesy of "Clean", the new detox book by Alejandro Junger. I have felt like a superwoman ever since and have continued with one raw meal a day via his morning smoothies. More than their countless health benefits, I drink them because they're just so crazy delicious.

Peach-Almond-Cardamom Smoothie

(courtesy of "Clean" by Alejandro Junger)

1 cup almond milk

1 cup frozen peaches

1 tbsp. raw almond butter

1 tsp. agave syrup

1/2 tsp. cardamom powder

3 ice cubes

Blend well and enjoy every icy drop.

7:15 am

And now, thus fortified, with a massive day of sewing ahead of me, it's time to reveal to you the details about the big project that's been occupying the better part of my life for the past four months.

From May 1st-29th, I am having my first solo art show at the fabulous Acme Gallery in Beverly Hills. It's called "Stitching Up The Noughties" and of course, I would love you all to come.

I will be showing ten of my larger-than-life postmodern samplers (one of them, "Perky Boobies", I've already posted on). Just as traditional samplers of the past gave voice to their creators' innermost thoughts, my pieces provide a highly personal perspective on how I view life today. (Topics include celebrities, tabloids, the recession and plastic surgery and more.) As of this writing, six are completed, which means I haven't quite entered the home stretch yet. Hence, the boys' skiing trip today so that I could have some uninterrupted hours sewing words onto burlap.

I finished this one last night -- can you guess what it's about from this little sneak peek?