Don't let the stars get in your eyes if you've got water on the brain

I did actually play with thickened dyes about three weeks ago, as I mentioned I would in my last post. I haven't had any free time to do anymore since, but I was very happy with at least some of the prints. I printed on plain printer paper for testing...and learned that water-based dyes just bleed all over on that type of paper unless you thicken them so much that you can hardly press the dye through the screen. I had better results with watercolor paper and with, and this was my main goal, fabric. I've only scanned one paper print so far.

I have a lot to learn about how to squeegee ink/dye evenly through a screen, but it looks promising. Practice, practice, practice.

But not tonight. It is so hot that my brain is percolating. This is my one evening off and I have managed to read a little and have a glass of wine under the stars. Gazing at the sky in wonder, cogitating on the meaning of it all, soaking in star beams, and similar.

Which is a pretty good use of time, after all.

And here's the link to the source of the title of this post:

Thank you for the memories, Homer and Jethro.

I'm getting ready to experiment with thickening dyes so that they can be used like silk screen paint or paint for block printing. I've gathered all the chemistry and most of the equipment. Where I'm getting hung up, though, is in coming up with a design to print. This type of envisioning is just not my forte. So the day is gone and nothing is printed.

However, on the positive side, getting prepared for when inspiration does grace me with its presence makes today not quite the waste that I was worried it would be.

When I tried to draw tonight, I looked through some old horticulture books for samples. I ended up drawing something that is of no use whatsoever for printing, but it is so nice to have something to show for the day that I will accept this as a gift.

Of course, I had help. If help you call it.

Waiting

Waiting for inspiration to strike. Strike. What, like lightening? Like sudden electrocution out of a clear blue sky? Like standing under a tree during a birthday party in France?
No thank you.
Like being arrested between one step and the next by a brilliant poppy shining out of the dead grass? That's more like it.
Maybe a strike isn't really the best way to think about it. If inspiration favors the prepared mind, it would be wise to spend more time with my hands on a keyboard. Or with fingers wrapped around a pen.
There is a certain romance, though, to the idea of being carried away by an irresistible idea. But again, it's better to have the tools in hand, just in case.

Blather, blather. It's Saturday night and I just finished work about ten minutes ago. And it's getting really late. Late for a work night. Not necessarily late for a Saturday night. I've been typing on and off for about five hours today, and I guess my mind and fingers have pretty much had enough. But I wanted to post something.

The one thing about having very few readers is that I don't always have to worry too much about coming up with deeply profound art (would that be triply redundant?). I can just ramble on until I either catch scent of a story or fall asleep.

Nope. Nothing. But by gosh, I made the effort anyway. A small something.