I have been neglecting my blog. Instead, I spent the week briefly looking at the vitriol on QuiltArt, and then turning to my studio. The best thing to combat all of the crushing criticism was a deadline.
Although among all the negativity, I received a lot of surprising support. I had some Atlanta friends that stood in the gap for me when I couldn’t, and for that, I am truly grateful. I also had some internet friends stand up and proclaim their support, and I received many emails of support and encouragement. I heard from people I never expected to, and I made some new friends. So out of the fire, there has been some good.
My last blog post has been read, I believe, almost 2,000 times. People have been combing my website, and I’m certain that a good deal of it was in judgment, not support.
There is something about the Migrant Mother photograph — and my use of it — that brought out a lot of strong emotions in people. And in that regard, I think it has been successful. Not all of the PR has been good, but it’s certainly been a topic of discussion.
Regardless of all of that, I have deadlines to meet. I have an entry due at the end of the month and guests coming next week — so this new piece has to be completed this week. I finished the quilting yesterday and am almost done with the handwork. I hope to complete it today and block it.
And then there are new shows to consider. I have another piece based on a Dorothea Lange photograph that I’m considering entering in AQS — at risk of the ivory tower elitists coming to hunt me down for having the gall to (gasp) use someone else’s photograph as the inspiration for a piece of work. I also have to prepare for Sacred Threads which is coming up as well as the local East Cobb Quilt Guild Show.
Furthermore, all of my studio efforts after finishing my current portrait will go back to the abstract pieces for the two person show I’m debuting with Leisa Rich in October.
One foot in front of the other — moving forward. There are people that don’t like my decisions, but life is too short to spend time worrying about them. They don’t understand me — and I don’t understand them. It’s like the school playground all over again. I think I’ll just go back to my studio. It’s peaceful there.