Today would have been my dad's 89th birthday, my first July 18th without him. I messed around in my studio with some of his uniform pins and an old piece of knife casing to create this bib style necklace.
Moss flowers, succulent babies, and fecundity...
I decided to clean out and trim some neglected planters that had lapsed into 'survival of the fittest' mode. I love plants and dirt. My first job was at a commercial greenhouse where I potted plants, standing in front of a bench piled with loamy potting soil. I would scoop my cupped hand forward into the warm soft dirt, fill the front half of the pot, scoop backwards filling in the back, then press the soil all around a young plant, tucking it into its new home.
In my overgrown planters, I discovered a tiny universe I wish to share. First, I noticed an abundance of moss! I love terrariums and moss is a prized element in their little landscapes. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the moss had flowered! I said to myself, "Emily Dickinson may think 'hope is the thing with feathers', but hope is also the thing with flowers."
More excitement in this Wayne's
world: Not only were the succulents dropping roots like a banyan tree, they were sprouting babies out of their leaves. I first read the word "fecundity' in Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. All the sprouting, propagating, and blooming going on in my neglected containers made me agree with Annie: " Fecundity is an ugly word for an ugly subject. It is ugly, at least, in the eggy animal world. I don't think it is so for plants." I love seeing the tiny baby plants nestled into the moss, but did not have the same euphoria when I discovered a teaming bog of frog eggs in the birdbath.
I filled 3 Mason jars with cuttings and expect roots to sprout in a week or two, but who knows. I may discover a jar teaming with little buds emerging from the submerged petals. How many ways do these lovely plants reproduce? I have loved succulents, ever since I was eight years old when a housekeeper brought me 'hens and chicks.' They were wrapped in newspaper and i was somewhat mystified, even disappointed by the odd gift. She'll never know how her simple offering created a memory I revisit every time I see succulents. Simply plants, they seem more like friends.
Crazy hat lady strikes again...
I did this version with dollar store butterflies and $1 visors from Michael's! All I need is a LED fiberoptic spray to put in the middle of it! 
New necklaces new photos...
Trying out some new ideas for photographs. The necklace to the right is photographed on a life sized statue my dad made of a ballerina based on our daugther Danielle.(below) Trying to get some good images for my etsy site!
Unhinged... the bracelet.
I carved out an organized corner of my studio so I took a break from sorting, pitching, and storing, to make a few things. Maybe finding solutions in my work space awakens creativity or problem solving skills, because I came up with some new angles on incorporating knives, crystals, and hardware. Ever since I plundered my dad's workshop months ago, I've wanted to create jewelry using the vintage hinges I found there. The piece in the photograph started out as a pendant, then showed promise as a choker. I landed happily on "bracelet" since it was time to go fix dinner. Choker, pendant, and earrings to follow.
My new flatware collection... the joy of the hunt!
You can pick up silver plated flatware odd pieces for a song, so I decided I wanted to change out my stainless steel for something a little more boho-chic. Here's the beginning of my collection. I fell short of my goal of no duplicates, but I'm pretty pleased with how the 'set' is coming together.
The pieces polished up nicely when I soaked them in water/soda/ salt solution. The tarnish lifted much more readily than the black Sharpie '$2' price marked in the bowl of several of the spoons. (2 T salt, 2T baking soda dumped onto a glass dish lined with foil. Add hot water and BAM you've got yourself some homemade dip-it. It is not safe on soft stone or pearls.)
My favorite piece is a fork with a figure on it, so I am narrowing my search for future purchases to: 'flatware with figures.' I'm looking forward to shopping for something I can pick up for just a few dollars. I like to imagine that everyone who comes to my house will have favorites, 'their' fork, knife, and/or spoon. I know which one is mine!
More toys!
I'm working up some fun little necklaces for Etoile boutique! These charms still have their silk ribbons on them, making them more valuable. They date from between 1920s to the 1940s and were used as gumball prizes, Crackerjack prizes, and as ties on liquor bottles or on loaves of the newly invented sliced bread. It took some doing, but I figured out how to incorporate the original ties. My favorite celluloid toys are the 'pearl' variety, like the giraffe below. Gotta love the bumps!
Playing with toys...
I am obsessed with old celluloid Cracker Jack toys, gum ball prizes, and celluloid toys from the 1930s that used to hang as tags on loaves of bread. I especially love it when they are still in bracelet form, retaining a touch of design influence from a collector way back when. 
Water, daisies, and little chicks...
New watery beads
Daisy beads ...
and an update on the wren. Came home from visiting my mother for Mother's Day and baby birds! No photo of them yet but here's their fierce momma! 
Morning melange...
Here is the piece into which the glass found its home. It came together so easily first thing in the morning. Maybe I should create while only half-awake more often!
Playing with the purses, color infusion! And, a quick film of the wren.
The colors are actually brighter than the film. Go to dalewayne.miche.com to see more about what John likes to call 'the most amazing bag ever.' These releases will be availabe on line May 1st.
I caught the wren in the previous blog making a run for it.
Holding onto hope, having your world rocked, and birds having their nests...
Years ago I had a hand-painted clothing line and one of my designs came with a hang tag that read "Are we holding onto hope, or is it holding onto us?" Lately, I feel like I am drowning in a primordial soup of John's cancer and its persistent implications, the loss of my father, and my own ongoing, annoying, boring health problems. It is a lonely place, but John and I are in it together and at least we have each other to understand, or try to understand, our personal struggles.
A few days ago, I noticed a bird dive bombing the front door upon my arrival. I glanced in the shrubbery to see if there was a nest tucked into or constructed at the base of one of the bushes on either side of the landing. For his part, John couldn't figure out why a bird flew right past his face every time he went out the front door. James solved the mystery. It was as plain as the nose on our faces. A little wren has woven a lovely cocoon of a nest in the center of my recycled bottle wreath. I have a number of bird houses in my garden just a few feet away, but this little creature chose the entrance to our home to create hers. Maybe if she hadn't picked the right side of the double doors, the only one we open and close, we would have missed the nest altogether. Worried that the eggs would fall out, or worse, little chicks when they hatch, we carefully lifted the wreath off of the hook and switched it to the stationary door. To my horror the nest was built assuming the door that was it's back wall, back would never change. When I looked the back of the wreath, the nest was completely exposed, like a piece of glass was there to let us look into its world, Except there was no glass, just air.
I think I held my breath as I slid it onto the hook on the opposite door, giving it an ever so gentle yank to make sure it was secure, then checking that the new door ran flush with the wreath. I worried that the bird might not adjust to her shift in real estate, but James assured me that if she could build the nest in the first place, she should have no trouble finding it and making any repairs or reinforcements.
Vincent Van Gogh loved bird nests and crocus bulbs; to him they were symbols of hope. A few years ago a book traced Vincent's steps to an old house where a drawing of his had just been discovered in a box in the attic. The writer interviewed the townspeople, one of whom recalled his grandfather telling stories of collecting nests for the painter. When Vincent's nephew and namesake was born, the artist made a baby gift a nest from his collection, much to the horror of his sister-in-law. Over the baby's crib hung VanGogh's painting of almond blossoms. After his death his paintings were tucked under beds and stashed in closets in what was to become a boarding house when Vincent's brother died six months later. His sister-in-law is a largely responsible for Vincen't post mortem success for which I am eternally grateful, though I'll bet she threw out the birdnest.
I hope nothing happens to the little family that is emerging on our front door. Life is so precarious, three eggs with paper thin shells, in a nest built into door that opens and shuts. The wren must be exhausted having to draw attention away from her charge, flying frantically, 'look THIS way!' every time someone comes to the door. Although, what snake or rat is going to dare violate a nest built out in the open and frequented by people coming and going. Maybe her choice wasn't so ill conceived after all.
There are several metaphors, I'm sure, but one is obvious. Our little fragile life we work so desperately to preserve and protect, is so out of our control. I imagine myself struggling to build a nest, a safehouse from harm, wearing myself to the breaking point trying to avert disaster. Did I chose this door or did it chose me? No matter. Something beyond me continues to hold my life in palms, tuck me under wings, hide me in clefts, and maybe, as has happened in other seasons of my life, is rocking my world for my own good.
Summer house guests...
It's one thing to clean up in anticipation for people, but my 'company' arrived today. Thank goodness they didn't see what my floors looked like before they arrived. I can't wait for them to unpack and settle in so I can enjoy their colorful personalities! If you want to meet them, call and stop by. They won't be here for long! 
Frame you art! jewlery...
Some ideas are years in the percolating. I finally figured out how to frame necklaces so they can be hung on a wall. If you are going to own art jewelry, or give it as a gift, shouldn't you be able to hang it on the wall? So tickled! Just listed it on my etsy shop.
New gift for bead lovers...
I created notecards from prints of drawings I made at a class at Laguna College of Art and Design a couple of years ago. Loving how they turned out. Set of 4 notecards and 3 postcards with envelopes are $14.50 on my Esty site. Any jewelry/bead/art loving mother's in need of a gift?
Happy earth day...
I've updated my home page to incorporate more of what I do. Maybe I should just have stolen an image from Ringling Brothers! I've left out my direct sales ventures which I find addicting ,completely embarrassing, and unbecoming of an artist. But I love my Miche bags and my Jamberry Nails, so what's a color obsessed woman to do? (Not to mention it helps pay the bills and maintains my already healthy sense of self-loathing.) My Miche summer collection is on the FedEx truck as I write. I often say that they should have their own brand of paper bags for me to breathe into.
I am working on a jewelry exhibit, pairing my glass jewelry with Susan Steele Meyer's amazing paintings. We will be at a gallery on the beach the weekend before Mother's Day. Tomorrow, we go to get a feel for the place and work on the display, unless the migraines I have been suffering loom too large.
I continue to tweak a little slide show I put together to document my 10 years in recycled plastic bottles. It's been a fun ride and I am amazed where this project has taken John and I. I'm looking forward to more adventures to come.
I'll attach the slide show of the plastic and a photo of my dad when I gave him his birthday poodle. On the back-burner is a book "Never give a poodle to a sculptor," my proclamation when my mother told me he kept trimming her. He was so funny, when her first trimmed her feet, he told me with gleeful eyes that she had such 'dainty little toes.' In the slide show I mention that he showed me how he cut 2 liter bottles and warmed plastic to make little armatures for manta rays he was making. That sent me on a train of thought that led me to making sculptures out of the bottles themselves. I think of it as part of his legacy to me, a sort of inheritance.
New jammies and off to the park where everything is ducky...
Today, I paired my hombre nails and Bohemian floral
with my smokin' 
Mimi purse. I've been carrying the hot red as my neutral lately, which might explain why I now have hot orange-red highlights in my hair. I was grumpy and color always cheers me up so I changed my Jamberry wraps. They have inspired me to take better care of my hands, hence a little less photoshopping of my cuticles. Since I signed up as an independent consultant, I've decided to restore my art damaged hands.
I love all the colors in the universe!(except beige, haha.) I am greedy when it comes to colors and sets of colors. I go weak in the knees for fun innovative products that have cool colorful designs and I want allthecolors. I'm inventing a new word: allthecolors.
One of my favorite children's books is Dinosaur Bob and the Family Lazardo. In the book the dad comes up with a solution to a problem in the middle of the night . The mother says something like "Don't worry kids, Dad never leaves the house in his pajamas unless he has a brilliant idea!" My brilliant idea was to put on new jammies and go feed the ducks. It wasn't until I was heading out of the door that I realized I should do a little mini-photo shoot.
This fella was much more impressed with my stale bread and I felt decidedly at risk as I tried to frame the shot. He has a nasty disposition and taking jabs at the other ducks was not beneath him.
After I ran out of bread crumbs I studied the Jamberrry catalog and was inspired to... well...
