The spicy tang of variety seeped into my studio this week. I work in series. And I work in serious pursuit of message.

Sometimes I grow weary and feel like I am repeating myself. Other times I am overzealous and over my head. This I know: pursuit is the reason. The act of making, stitching, cutting, pressing and assembling fabrics and threads brings clarity to thought. Believe me, if you sit and stitch for three hours on a little scrap of canvas your mind travels, bends and surges. Here's a little gallery of what I worked on this past week:

I finished Beast this week. It is a ragged, angry blot that satisfied a certain itch within. — I finished *Beast* this week. It is a ragged, angry blot that satisfied a certain itch within.

I removed some orange thread stitching on the center figure of Thugs and added some black flies to the background. Black flies bite. — I removed some orange thread stitching on the center figure of *Thugs* and added some black flies to the background. Black flies bite.

Part of my Silent Witness series: Yes, but does it pass the smell test? is on the design board. I need to figure out how to finish the edges of these small pieces. But first I need to make lots more of them. — Part of my Silent Witness series: *Yes, but does it pass the smell test?* is on the design board. I need to figure out how to finish the edges of these small pieces. But first I need to make lots more of them.

Liar, liar, rough cut. This greets me every morning. — *Liar, liar,* rough cut. This greets me every morning.

This confection of polkadots and swirls satisfied my need to chill out and just let the thread tell me where to go.

I used the leftovers from the curve tests to create this composition that I am calling Woof. Random acts of piecing netted a live dog with attitude. — I used the leftovers from the curve tests to create this composition that I am calling *Woof*. Random acts of piecing netted a live dog with attitude.

Another Silent Witness piece in process, Disruptor. Hand stitching slowed down my thoughts and forced me to focus. — Another Silent Witness piece in process, *Disruptor*. Hand stitching slowed down my thoughts and forced me to focus.

Clear the decks! Bring out the trumpets! Reshuffle the shelving! Close the doors! Breathe.

I need a brain blender to swirl all these thoughts together into a consistent puree. Where did I put that reset button?

Beast, a work in progress, challenges me to leave the ragged ragged. No clean up required. — *Beast*, a work in progress, challenges me to leave the ragged ragged. No clean up required.

Dipped in early daffodils and icy evenings the moon shots and news jaunts are rousing lightning strikes to what I know is true. My desk and head are piled with idea roadmaps and diagrams. New books to read, new art to create. I'm in at seven and out at four every day breathless and stiff. Body aches ignored I pursue the frenzy because I know it will subside. And then what? Will all these ideas seem like a self conscious effort to put it all together? Or will it give me a clear path to stronger work?

Meanwhile I stitch. On pieces of anger and pieces of doubt and pieces of warning and pieces of angst.

Breathe. Reshuffle the shelving, sweep the scraps, fold the layers together for a whole. I hesitate. Perhaps a simple, artful journey of color and stitch will clear the sinuses of my angst? Step away from the storm.

Polkadots rock.

I'm working on an online shop to sell my quilts. Watch for that later this month.

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