into the mist

a warm front of old friends and hot sweat and sunshine and noodle bowls with my kin is met by the sudden rush of a summer storm. i'm off to here i'm going there i have laundry to do and all i am doing instead is running around in the rain sick in love with the thrill of leaving and secretly pretending i'm a curly toed sprite hiding from the red capped knomes in a fjord far far away.

summertime=readingtime

In honor of a new pair of glasses, and because I have been taking advantage of some much needed relaxation due to my recent surrender to bronchitis, and because its (almost) summer and that means more time to read...
Allow me to suggest: Bed, a collection of short stories by Tao Lin, who also has a wonderful blog, and is current favorite of mine. Thanks Tao! 

And if a chapter book seems too daunting, look no further than the late great Charley Harper and those ABC's. This book is a real tasty treat, like a peppermint bon bon ice cream cone with chocolate sprinkles, or a red white and blue bomb pop...

adventures in nebraskaland

Album/sampler quilt, c. 1860-70, Auburn IL

Birds in Air by Salome Thorpe, c. 1885, Westport CT

Next time you find yourself in lovely Lincoln, NE be sure to check out the tremendous textiles at the International Quilt Study Center & Museum, featuring the world's largest publicly held collection of quilts from more than 20 countries. Such an inspiring array of true craft skill, history, tradition, and experimentation.

And, next time you find yourself near a pasture, make a four-hoofed friend! Special thanks to Sailor–such a handsome Morgan you are–and especially thanks to cousin Kate.

in memoriam

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manner of thy friend's or thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind, and therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee"

-John Donne

On memorial day, we remember those we have lost. I remember a grandfather through my mother's hand-made tie, a letter sweater, a fisherman's reel, and emblems of voyages and violence and bravery. 

And I remember those who left far too soon, gaining strength from the blood flow of family, gathering together to remember those who will always be ours.

over the rivers and through the woods

To my granny's house I go! I'm off on a cross-country road trip to the land of pioneers, cattle, and corn, to spend quality time with the lovely ladies above. Granny Marjorie + my mother + five aunts + many cousins and second cousins = the Schroeder girl legacy lives on! 

ºººEmbroidered pillowcases courtesy of my late Great Granny Pauline...Perhaps my busy fingers were inheritedººº

do hit.

Marijn van der Poll's DO HIT...Wherein destruction is creation, and one individual's inward strengths and pent up frustrations are uniquely manifested in a brilliantly customizable petite seat. See the DO HIT in action here. Thanks Marijn! I like your seat. 

ladies and gentlemen...

...It is officially yard sale season! So hop on your bikes and dig out those quarters, for cheap thrills and sweet deals can be found when neighbors come out of hibernation and decide to do a bit of Spring cleaning...I had such luck today! 5 amazing records for 4 measly dollars, thanks to the man who was moving to Japan.

curious coincidences in pattern land

Such fantastic bits of inspiration and Minnesotan flour history were discovered recently at the Mill City Museum–definitely an under-appreciated gem along the falls of St. Anthony...
Wheat was first ground into flour using millstones, which were built in various patterns in order to most effectively grind and separate the kernels. And oh how pristine they are as graphic symbols!
Elana's perfectly patterned froth from a recent visit to Chicago's famous Metropolis Cafe. Oh! And all of these reminded me of this...
Cocoa powder patterns send my heart all a-flutter. Older work by Graphic Thought Facility, for Mark & Spencer's Café Revive–some truly lovely work. Thanks GTF! 

wondrous winged words

"The world had been sad since Tuesday. Sea and sky were a single ash-gray thing, and the sands on the beach, which on March nights glimmered like powdered light, had become a stew of mud and rotten shellfish..."

the ocean made me feel stupid

It was more about the movement than the place. More about the rhythmic collisions of unknown ecosystems. More about the tides and the waves, the massive body so quickly forgotten as feet dig into soil. It was more about the liquid engines that drive. More about the liquid engines that move, and provide. 

And it was so much more about the movement than the place. So much more about the comings and the goings. So much more about the left behind, the leaving behind. Sometimes I love this place, but I know I must leave it. Because I am enamored by the movement, by the potential for escape, by the particles in the air that evaporate and accumulate and eventually precipitate, into the rivers and streams, into the lakes and valleys, and back into the ocean once again. 

I tried to make a map about the ocean, but instead became unsettled by the absence of the land. I cannot have the land without the ocean. The two halves form a whole. This I now know. 

ºººThese maps are leftovers of a disastrous Intaglio final.  Screenprinting, intaglio, and collage maps made by me. I will hide them away, and try to conquer the world another day, I promiseººº

let us remember

Let us stand tall and be thankful for each other, for our connections and disconnections, our similarities and differences. Let us never forget how lucky we are that we can rise each morning with the sun and...breathe. Let us never be too proud to make mistakes, let us never take for granted our drive to create. And let us put these creative minds together and unite in remembrance of those we have lost along the way. 

ºººForgive me, Chris Johanson, for defacing your work, and Thank You and all the Beautiful Losers, for shining lights into tired eyes, and reminding us of the joys of our makingsººº

little louise

What follows is the story of little Louise Adams...

A naughty little girl, who, despite the wise words of Mr. Munro Leaf...



...could not resist scribbling all over the insides of this wondrous Book of Fun. Apparently Mr. Leaf failed to mention it's not polite for little girls to scribble all over their books. Shame on you, Louise! But thanks for making this recent thrift find from 1934 so very enjoyable.

ºººSamurai Bachman, this post is for you! You know very well who you are, don't let them hold you down, reach for the starsººº

procrastinate, delineate, create & create

When stressed out during finals week, it is always best to consume copious amounts of sugar and waste away a few precious hours beating your friends in a rousing game of scrabble. Good luck everyone, for the calm after the storm will soon come...