tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25436259631041864212024-03-17T08:41:49.166-04:00JEAN BAARDSENCreating an Artful LifeJean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.comBlogger430125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-79070624566608466162020-03-04T15:56:00.000-05:002020-03-04T15:59:04.320-05:00Numbers 24, 25, and 26PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
A friend, Cora Mae, gave me some Shibori fabrics she had dyed. I decided to use three cuts from the beautiful fabrics for today's pieces.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1yc7t6lyiD6AInH6JcGgc7diyoqZ38hip6KDm5XOc5-5JjIqwL0Rsp9914GTbqODpSBr0czPjwMc-l5KopsBM6SiDJOlG8HhheZ3hsLcuyHK13JBJ1ZX4zsWZVqVjMbPhw9KkLTq7aU/s1600/CoraMae%2527sShiboriFabric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1600" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1yc7t6lyiD6AInH6JcGgc7diyoqZ38hip6KDm5XOc5-5JjIqwL0Rsp9914GTbqODpSBr0czPjwMc-l5KopsBM6SiDJOlG8HhheZ3hsLcuyHK13JBJ1ZX4zsWZVqVjMbPhw9KkLTq7aU/s320/CoraMae%2527sShiboriFabric.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cora Mae's Shibori Fabrics</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#24 - The first picture is the cut piece of fabric:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVM5LgsYOaNQk-FSOw9BJj5eWze9nJmc9sH9OzeZFlX2Qp_lBk2UVYg2s8GzQd4B1JBb1vDCiVDOXcd2N8GHE6NqDSuWg73Kx5oPU_6OAJO9iMMISCAjii__2xvLWpZyMU9BUKbrqyGHg/s1600/8x8_024_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVM5LgsYOaNQk-FSOw9BJj5eWze9nJmc9sH9OzeZFlX2Qp_lBk2UVYg2s8GzQd4B1JBb1vDCiVDOXcd2N8GHE6NqDSuWg73Kx5oPU_6OAJO9iMMISCAjii__2xvLWpZyMU9BUKbrqyGHg/s320/8x8_024_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabric used in #24</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saw a flower in this image. I used a white POSCA paint pen to lighten the "petals." Then I added extensive machine stitching. I cropped the piece before adding the blanket stitch around the edges.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvWzVLdStjKMhdR37Y7MkVWS6jBnvkw7SBdKbNqGZAOabgZusDPPYneuhytU2TWFb_7h6HwoGjHNc84vgLa-xSHittCb1KCHLJrs_34ZVwKL-u4vuDzwTF3HG49h3jtfzqTmppTl_qPk/s1600/8x8_024_WithFrame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvWzVLdStjKMhdR37Y7MkVWS6jBnvkw7SBdKbNqGZAOabgZusDPPYneuhytU2TWFb_7h6HwoGjHNc84vgLa-xSHittCb1KCHLJrs_34ZVwKL-u4vuDzwTF3HG49h3jtfzqTmppTl_qPk/s320/8x8_024_WithFrame.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#24 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#25 - the cut fabric:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZvJd25mmbvlMM-AVxTLdWfIdtgbiNFIQUu_jSujFscNinYuS46ajqDOViZpk-gLwip7ZoWsQKTXxXNc2ccFOX6o4JwDuaPmuniRvJ3b-V9EwDyzYxcM37g67j8CxVJB0lBn6oLm3CEA/s1600/8x8_025_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZvJd25mmbvlMM-AVxTLdWfIdtgbiNFIQUu_jSujFscNinYuS46ajqDOViZpk-gLwip7ZoWsQKTXxXNc2ccFOX6o4JwDuaPmuniRvJ3b-V9EwDyzYxcM37g67j8CxVJB0lBn6oLm3CEA/s320/8x8_025_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabric used in #25</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This time I envisioned a landscape. First, I fused on a couple extra pieces of fabric near the bottom of the image. Again, I used extensive machine stitching.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vIcEzIdlVaeHwre6arq2E85HAQNPrMzpfgsMXzfBad27OVnEKzZUUx9Tm8nCPr_L51SORUZOp0zp3RXF5FAW3DBtfMWaJXlZ5wgf2zQ0ZKn5q9LO2m7mzHW2KH7pdckNO4iPiqiYZQs/s1600/8x8_025_WithFrame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vIcEzIdlVaeHwre6arq2E85HAQNPrMzpfgsMXzfBad27OVnEKzZUUx9Tm8nCPr_L51SORUZOp0zp3RXF5FAW3DBtfMWaJXlZ5wgf2zQ0ZKn5q9LO2m7mzHW2KH7pdckNO4iPiqiYZQs/s320/8x8_025_WithFrame.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#25 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#26 - I stared at this next fabric for a long time.<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikC24MmBCsqpKh4IQ4OuW67-Rz_j4KvDQMjAjQSfrnGOpGjJ9xo8SU5HJbmJyqq-Nm6aZ2ONLTj2qqk0IBQMUAltkoJ80B6dLBAp5FW6HshXAFPwkmt-D4iNOPQoA1SvlEkXC1eSeUoj4/s1600/8x8_026_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikC24MmBCsqpKh4IQ4OuW67-Rz_j4KvDQMjAjQSfrnGOpGjJ9xo8SU5HJbmJyqq-Nm6aZ2ONLTj2qqk0IBQMUAltkoJ80B6dLBAp5FW6HshXAFPwkmt-D4iNOPQoA1SvlEkXC1eSeUoj4/s320/8x8_026_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabric used in #26</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the end, I decided I couldn't really improve on the design. (It's rotated a quarter turn in the next image.) Like the others, this fabric was mounted on stiff interfacing. After cropping, I added the blanket stitch around the edges, and called it good enough!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZtUno4Myb4PFYiuvo1e2ZSvqDS9Tgyi9X3U6m2T16hIJSRpp6YHtfB62iXViyZQcBfK6TMCsT8bfZubipObT8VwrcrxtMprXmyluhB4xIYTw_5ItqKDKBaJRaq1ihLCE360Rrqg_xBU/s1600/8x8_026_WithFrame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZtUno4Myb4PFYiuvo1e2ZSvqDS9Tgyi9X3U6m2T16hIJSRpp6YHtfB62iXViyZQcBfK6TMCsT8bfZubipObT8VwrcrxtMprXmyluhB4xIYTw_5ItqKDKBaJRaq1ihLCE360Rrqg_xBU/s320/8x8_026_WithFrame.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#26 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Till next time...</div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-19853546855247318012020-02-10T16:23:00.000-05:002020-02-10T16:23:44.548-05:00Numbers 21, 22, and 23<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
When I shop for fabric at the thrift stores, I look for blouses with lace, texture, or interesting patterns. Today's three pieces make use of some of this fabric.<br />
#21:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjlcCyCu8c-57CG3FJkqb-4ARz0QD5xA2hiOkZmoe6KeNiBNAr4BDRwHkYu1o8m4WpNjZxfQubru917Q3cUCf-ucH2e3LWN88cgFTySE-rXo4tlFgehKTS4pA4YLXQ7vu2mPLiIqORLU/s1600/8x8_21_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1392" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjlcCyCu8c-57CG3FJkqb-4ARz0QD5xA2hiOkZmoe6KeNiBNAr4BDRwHkYu1o8m4WpNjZxfQubru917Q3cUCf-ucH2e3LWN88cgFTySE-rXo4tlFgehKTS4pA4YLXQ7vu2mPLiIqORLU/s320/8x8_21_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#21 - Lacy Fabric</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
***<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MY-fRxswcHUkc9AEtCI6-U0BV9X_uc8lx5EtrSMiX9XM12_Fg3CZx1z03pw1gJZ8toP0gZ_MlCfMKxMvNIXtQF_jj6ImETn949VO9YB1FwFj8Qn8IcbwmIyZhk9QUpRh2zkxtPd4_Sc/s1600/8x8_21_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MY-fRxswcHUkc9AEtCI6-U0BV9X_uc8lx5EtrSMiX9XM12_Fg3CZx1z03pw1gJZ8toP0gZ_MlCfMKxMvNIXtQF_jj6ImETn949VO9YB1FwFj8Qn8IcbwmIyZhk9QUpRh2zkxtPd4_Sc/s320/8x8_21_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#21 - The lacy fabric spread out to show the detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here's the other fabric I used:<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJUWq_7W5CVmt2M4Gn7AfmbA5QN7_WA31yxJmYfmJTrw4IvJWL0RgG9GOYHOvR0_PUIqfZSs3DEK6KHWJXs7NAF4bKgazSVEoYUs4vdIXpaMEeuSoQ9fwosl7GdAEn_KLQ54tDafqeKE/s1600/8x8_21_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1430" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJUWq_7W5CVmt2M4Gn7AfmbA5QN7_WA31yxJmYfmJTrw4IvJWL0RgG9GOYHOvR0_PUIqfZSs3DEK6KHWJXs7NAF4bKgazSVEoYUs4vdIXpaMEeuSoQ9fwosl7GdAEn_KLQ54tDafqeKE/s320/8x8_21_c.jpg" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#21 - Second fabric</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#21: I used the first fabric for the flowers, and the second fabric for the vase. The background is a piece of silk painted with black acrylic ink. (The three, 4-petal flowers came from another blouse.)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaqLwmD_xlhAmabWwrYiao-CriysFn1hSZ4db0Lu6TBbv7nu1XlcKZrSopy8OJqA-119Fo5JJnwngEsp6hCsfCvaAjnMbM-ewwm-GHhx6c7GF3yBfG5MZ443kGmDHOQh860ELECQTUOY/s1600/8x8_21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaqLwmD_xlhAmabWwrYiao-CriysFn1hSZ4db0Lu6TBbv7nu1XlcKZrSopy8OJqA-119Fo5JJnwngEsp6hCsfCvaAjnMbM-ewwm-GHhx6c7GF3yBfG5MZ443kGmDHOQh860ELECQTUOY/s320/8x8_21.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#21 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#22: Most of the fabric for #22 came from the front of a sheer, flowered blouse, that had both lace trim and pleats.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_fEopu5TX88oHwzYZXcdGvDLXR-1_dv8r3PdJl60KLYMH2DqvJYzpuiP4j4ssDmprJo7C482sIrDXfANkDP1Pnaqcht9l6KI_dCfZISn_0pUulVigWYdHVRln4yj2_rpJ_60wEXFwuU/s1600/8x8_22_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="995" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_fEopu5TX88oHwzYZXcdGvDLXR-1_dv8r3PdJl60KLYMH2DqvJYzpuiP4j4ssDmprJo7C482sIrDXfANkDP1Pnaqcht9l6KI_dCfZISn_0pUulVigWYdHVRln4yj2_rpJ_60wEXFwuU/s320/8x8_22_a.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabric used in #22</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thread painting and machine stitching with my Pfaff added flowers and other detail. And here's the finished piece:<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgWDK2Y4k3-XMnUUG6IVywa90FjsjcAqI-l3l4NmcKMTqz1FYOWa29sp8t7OM0Zd3gKIFTEOZflKiQTaOMFRKw_zmuByTfTWerqy25L8osmSE20adiwDuHC36kIn6SAirORLvgBeM5r7U/s1600/8x8_22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgWDK2Y4k3-XMnUUG6IVywa90FjsjcAqI-l3l4NmcKMTqz1FYOWa29sp8t7OM0Zd3gKIFTEOZflKiQTaOMFRKw_zmuByTfTWerqy25L8osmSE20adiwDuHC36kIn6SAirORLvgBeM5r7U/s320/8x8_22.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#22 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Maybe you can see that I used some of the pleated fabric across the bottom of the piece? I love texture!<div>
***<br />#23 started with a piece of crepe de chine I had painted with acrylic inks. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwspFJVXG_1Bd4rZ0OIAwKt-0PWfBJGhra8aqA3xEpWPCrvV8Qq4H01S8DnJ8ei95dgI2rbbo2nU_QiM0pwWTRgEnSRH1tTFaBuLZXtA3CS0G_K3sMCGIovGXjTbunOY_v7oi1iateOM/s1600/8x8_23_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwspFJVXG_1Bd4rZ0OIAwKt-0PWfBJGhra8aqA3xEpWPCrvV8Qq4H01S8DnJ8ei95dgI2rbbo2nU_QiM0pwWTRgEnSRH1tTFaBuLZXtA3CS0G_K3sMCGIovGXjTbunOY_v7oi1iateOM/s320/8x8_23_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#23 - Inked crepe de chine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I thought the ball of yarn would work well with this piece - which is why it's in the picture - but then I ended up not using the yarn. Instead, I stitched on a piece of inked cheesecloth:<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNNki6rd6U8MNbn5jqqFOOWOupQzBhjDtUyRJxT0omB1DS9gf3zto9WLdTZ0hMHZfiZLlWVxOGRLATNzgWBwWuE2cktwj3t-cjH_3LermryZF5z1YONSuuMqfjvYyd98mKkpkfdSMKx4/s1600/8x8_23_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1575" data-original-width="1600" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNNki6rd6U8MNbn5jqqFOOWOupQzBhjDtUyRJxT0omB1DS9gf3zto9WLdTZ0hMHZfiZLlWVxOGRLATNzgWBwWuE2cktwj3t-cjH_3LermryZF5z1YONSuuMqfjvYyd98mKkpkfdSMKx4/s320/8x8_23_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#23 - Inked fabric with cheesecloth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Not sure where to go with this one, I cut out circles from another blouse. Though I'm not thrilled with this piece, I declared it finished!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaybOnRlyWhKfptjXVyz5HQ2QXbzFCeKbqeqji9FQ_TJiCeU3Y6MRadDKWaQua6Rcbkmp6g0MmLyBxHK8AwpGZM98D-jguuR5xFb9RzGieBnP8XWibAervCoD6LVY4g3i5j_cAsEMo87s/s1600/8x8_23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaybOnRlyWhKfptjXVyz5HQ2QXbzFCeKbqeqji9FQ_TJiCeU3Y6MRadDKWaQua6Rcbkmp6g0MmLyBxHK8AwpGZM98D-jguuR5xFb9RzGieBnP8XWibAervCoD6LVY4g3i5j_cAsEMo87s/s320/8x8_23.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#23 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Till next time...</div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-21488222854577247202020-02-03T11:30:00.000-05:002020-02-03T11:30:37.066-05:00Numbers 18, 19, and 20PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkMTnEDmnEf7dXROZxoF07lLzKO5spHYrTKvaWdVf4aqvPjEQPnO-ve_QUaM0Ai_o9k6R0MEmH5kN4NpoqZQj6k2ZQCf1btSxhmivBT6UxG06M24s41c-bZNKYXwGUS6OepAAoHVVrN4/s1600/8x8_018a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkMTnEDmnEf7dXROZxoF07lLzKO5spHYrTKvaWdVf4aqvPjEQPnO-ve_QUaM0Ai_o9k6R0MEmH5kN4NpoqZQj6k2ZQCf1btSxhmivBT6UxG06M24s41c-bZNKYXwGUS6OepAAoHVVrN4/s320/8x8_018a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"># 18</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
# 18 - This piece started with needle felting wool roving. I loved the colors, even though the wool makes a blurry-looking picture.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MTuFuWv7mI4YLVXp4xvs3OYPKDeuO9g8fYw2dIYomMqdpeLtC2IlFVmvVGh2sbWaHKWt-LeMsal1g8XhFzOms1XGeN_mD1eN4PHzGdv34U33R-Gx6PcUxXxJik7_n4BpE68YS2F66ik/s1600/8x8_018c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MTuFuWv7mI4YLVXp4xvs3OYPKDeuO9g8fYw2dIYomMqdpeLtC2IlFVmvVGh2sbWaHKWt-LeMsal1g8XhFzOms1XGeN_mD1eN4PHzGdv34U33R-Gx6PcUxXxJik7_n4BpE68YS2F66ik/s320/8x8_018c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#18 - A detail from the stitched piece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
***<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJuJRY6lsLbSR_YT-hj1Fjw69CDn8AVIMawSlcEaJFLj8A_w6tNJgtEYj8UeGtFQImo87aynWT7FweCRXeoc-2y_yzHpQ0CzpXS2uGoS79S3hc28QOZJUuL92KpRHE_udSUfTUZXWl8DM/s1600/8x8_018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJuJRY6lsLbSR_YT-hj1Fjw69CDn8AVIMawSlcEaJFLj8A_w6tNJgtEYj8UeGtFQImo87aynWT7FweCRXeoc-2y_yzHpQ0CzpXS2uGoS79S3hc28QOZJUuL92KpRHE_udSUfTUZXWl8DM/s320/8x8_018.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#18 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Above is the finished piece - stitched, and mounted on an 8" x 8" canvas.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJb_uHTQOltt7nW1cN6shGjnQ8P58Xq_qh67E-ckCltdUsf64Xt1tIisljDC6GgkXl10x_EekGZUy8yxpavA4jISdQj3K2eChcM2fLJbDomOMBIaVKOq0r4sqPvQ6Tk-mZMYq29MrweE/s1600/8x8_019a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJb_uHTQOltt7nW1cN6shGjnQ8P58Xq_qh67E-ckCltdUsf64Xt1tIisljDC6GgkXl10x_EekGZUy8yxpavA4jISdQj3K2eChcM2fLJbDomOMBIaVKOq0r4sqPvQ6Tk-mZMYq29MrweE/s320/8x8_019a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#19</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#19 also started with needle felting. I was envisioning a beach scene with a palm tree.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI4O2IJN0WDkF9sYifACiZ93tvcXT7VflcvziXL0NSqrfFtiUVAnoI2F8JyVJYpF9VOo_paxrF0CqoehPtLs3CFs_9soW8fK8eXV4nS_o59aXH0FEfsRgm-a8JubMnFLyTXV7hyphenhyphenYW7RE/s1600/8x8_019c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI4O2IJN0WDkF9sYifACiZ93tvcXT7VflcvziXL0NSqrfFtiUVAnoI2F8JyVJYpF9VOo_paxrF0CqoehPtLs3CFs_9soW8fK8eXV4nS_o59aXH0FEfsRgm-a8JubMnFLyTXV7hyphenhyphenYW7RE/s320/8x8_019c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabric cut from a thrift store blouse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This brown fabric provided the trunk for the palm tree.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZGP9sIR7U23OkQmJ-zWS3xjIbCbgX8PHiA3OS7Y_t39Idn9iXowmuKwjfwSeXSYUmKt8-RBZ2auQTXwGak9RVATlO5KmyUm3KOPoJ86G5AMHmBln9vlB7CpcIh2mZR5w1XI1wgu1Wjw/s1600/8x8_019d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1271" data-original-width="1600" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZGP9sIR7U23OkQmJ-zWS3xjIbCbgX8PHiA3OS7Y_t39Idn9iXowmuKwjfwSeXSYUmKt8-RBZ2auQTXwGak9RVATlO5KmyUm3KOPoJ86G5AMHmBln9vlB7CpcIh2mZR5w1XI1wgu1Wjw/s320/8x8_019d.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#19</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I used cheese cloth, dyed with acrylic inks, for the beach sand. White gauze formed the sea foam. Once I had the tree trunk in place, I couched on green yarn for the palm fronds.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTRV9O_PB-H9mZjfP6UaZ71l-3thA2CrhssyyubhR08cnLUlX6tbFyw-DjSFWgCcdC8vaUguM9J9EFbb3vBsMBjJjy5WN3KHUy7eBf4-dpahkGqyXHD4mKO-Thy2EBxF84cVy8QqO4TQ/s1600/8x8_019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTRV9O_PB-H9mZjfP6UaZ71l-3thA2CrhssyyubhR08cnLUlX6tbFyw-DjSFWgCcdC8vaUguM9J9EFbb3vBsMBjJjy5WN3KHUy7eBf4-dpahkGqyXHD4mKO-Thy2EBxF84cVy8QqO4TQ/s320/8x8_019.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#19 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#19 - Stitched, and mounted on an 8" x 8" canvas.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJuP0MGyB9igK2rc4QTLiBL4OKvK9_KHD2JETFSbWe3a9KWU4wxNT9YMmFEOWBFGZnN6eSL3s-qzWQUEPyJ3GXaWXhLnWs0I8B5d6y_DGI-zcY60ReZ-QGJP9ND25lkeVwWDpMBLZVELA/s1600/8x8_020a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJuP0MGyB9igK2rc4QTLiBL4OKvK9_KHD2JETFSbWe3a9KWU4wxNT9YMmFEOWBFGZnN6eSL3s-qzWQUEPyJ3GXaWXhLnWs0I8B5d6y_DGI-zcY60ReZ-QGJP9ND25lkeVwWDpMBLZVELA/s320/8x8_020a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"># 20 - Detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I had colored some white lace from a thrift store blouse, using acrylic inks. There's also some inked cheese cloth in the "hill."<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzN7B5Plx7Zs5P-Nza7EyqEFeagAt3-LFQ_9xYZK4LddCnxq2p4jxYk9SJWvFP0VfAkQ5ecDwcAuSQ8Vih4sNV3FBIt_DcRMmR9ozJwsFsQQ_uMh8VONEmLo8d9VDIxKs4aYwuQ0IkHgU/s1600/8x8_020b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzN7B5Plx7Zs5P-Nza7EyqEFeagAt3-LFQ_9xYZK4LddCnxq2p4jxYk9SJWvFP0VfAkQ5ecDwcAuSQ8Vih4sNV3FBIt_DcRMmR9ozJwsFsQQ_uMh8VONEmLo8d9VDIxKs4aYwuQ0IkHgU/s320/8x8_020b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#20 - Detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#20 - The finished piece, mounted on an 8" x 8" canvas:<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsgseibFTT_WKFbGEUiINvJgOm1ijJ16bh5HUifhMBGGwMG5t_nBzt0y7YIkRM77QW7RqzzzlNtZ1PeIzk-8C-0zniu_5fIxv7Wj0KgDgqth1bdHTfeeKyfA3L7AwbUxQZX_4TYkH1FI/s1600/8x8_020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsgseibFTT_WKFbGEUiINvJgOm1ijJ16bh5HUifhMBGGwMG5t_nBzt0y7YIkRM77QW7RqzzzlNtZ1PeIzk-8C-0zniu_5fIxv7Wj0KgDgqth1bdHTfeeKyfA3L7AwbUxQZX_4TYkH1FI/s320/8x8_020.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#20 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Till next time...Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-25113559246752988152020-01-27T16:35:00.000-05:002020-01-27T16:35:37.870-05:00SidetrackedI took a break from my 8" x 8" canvases to do some preparation work for note cards. I do about 1000 note cards / year, and most of them are sent to <a href="https://www.operationgratitude.com/" target="_blank">Operation Gratitude</a>. Many of these cards go to deployed military personnel.<br />
First, I treated archival tissue paper with India inks:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyJQKdI_XUX6gRstWpFMBf6GsAb_bRjgeqK4JsvkvL6KcrR5z_56iQ47JBsDSLOvbK47bCVdVBASJcTXVt05c54jhvbD3jvTyBAQO5QZA6LdW10XmJetF1w70WioZzrc2uGb-AfNzPEA/s1600/Cards01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1600" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyJQKdI_XUX6gRstWpFMBf6GsAb_bRjgeqK4JsvkvL6KcrR5z_56iQ47JBsDSLOvbK47bCVdVBASJcTXVt05c54jhvbD3jvTyBAQO5QZA6LdW10XmJetF1w70WioZzrc2uGb-AfNzPEA/s320/Cards01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The next picture is a close-up of the inked tissue paper:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1N3UhZfFZAFZ4tcSmPPIHfPxSWk5cCNom_5B6K5tJlzofNpig7rJW47g870wu3KgS01mkbpKWD8M4Owuvh_u6gsHulEYwbhz8qZxaDaz704djjryhTlGlW36PdF6tgPEDCuH3aR0-O9Q/s1600/Cards02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1251" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1N3UhZfFZAFZ4tcSmPPIHfPxSWk5cCNom_5B6K5tJlzofNpig7rJW47g870wu3KgS01mkbpKWD8M4Owuvh_u6gsHulEYwbhz8qZxaDaz704djjryhTlGlW36PdF6tgPEDCuH3aR0-O9Q/s320/Cards02.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
I also color rice paper using alcohol inks. Here's an example:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidST0Wmgl2DzqPQh-d74Bz5VGpNtfPLQijDeNx5AOlfslW58hPDYDKyCp8zY-koLP8p6-XbWZOD7OI7hmC3w4zIv9iF8Sw09YuoH-KxLJ-I3na8Q4tow-PNQQrgrqm-4IdWi3ElMqOpz0/s1600/Cards03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidST0Wmgl2DzqPQh-d74Bz5VGpNtfPLQijDeNx5AOlfslW58hPDYDKyCp8zY-koLP8p6-XbWZOD7OI7hmC3w4zIv9iF8Sw09YuoH-KxLJ-I3na8Q4tow-PNQQrgrqm-4IdWi3ElMqOpz0/s320/Cards03.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
This is another strip of rice paper. I loved seeing the sunlight hit the drying paper. You can see some of the small bottles of alcohol inks off to the side:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_5QGN4vaV3jc40Izhbw948ycDgJ_DH1nITLc14SEh7SVOc4GSYD7JF2IV7Sr-Rbd80nGSEsT9zGAkDK1O4nbVKee3zQmjgN9HJCg1aAv7yv2ef-ZVNP0An9ZZ7HJdXwhAArfwSIi7QM/s1600/Cards04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_5QGN4vaV3jc40Izhbw948ycDgJ_DH1nITLc14SEh7SVOc4GSYD7JF2IV7Sr-Rbd80nGSEsT9zGAkDK1O4nbVKee3zQmjgN9HJCg1aAv7yv2ef-ZVNP0An9ZZ7HJdXwhAArfwSIi7QM/s320/Cards04.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Next, I cut the tissue paper and rice paper into pieces a little bigger than 4" x 6".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6p9ZCNLTEJVUEQxvhJzooKBM1vMCXY7X51NuKWpURVIxxGNwPbJpPNlbYTCyPEfSTUxGfj8XHqiUR-WAUc5xxtld6Er7r4y4JuDoe9vBNLKWuIIBJ_P0HN-ulBSmZMKIA880SuQbCfKM/s1600/Cards09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="1600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6p9ZCNLTEJVUEQxvhJzooKBM1vMCXY7X51NuKWpURVIxxGNwPbJpPNlbYTCyPEfSTUxGfj8XHqiUR-WAUc5xxtld6Er7r4y4JuDoe9vBNLKWuIIBJ_P0HN-ulBSmZMKIA880SuQbCfKM/s320/Cards09.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I glue the papers to pieces of card stock, and let them dry well:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwQ6TnM14kXkk5b8YgoUUTyYF8RltrUjUDyitEklR-1dH8P1ixPeJlFiAJhttBViAP8KiZglg1Wof5hcv5fgdRpFDzOQPq5QByby9wZcX-c3xBhMUfCGKPzLE8G7jkeN71cuCjxhVOIc/s1600/Cards10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwQ6TnM14kXkk5b8YgoUUTyYF8RltrUjUDyitEklR-1dH8P1ixPeJlFiAJhttBViAP8KiZglg1Wof5hcv5fgdRpFDzOQPq5QByby9wZcX-c3xBhMUfCGKPzLE8G7jkeN71cuCjxhVOIc/s320/Cards10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The last step is to crop them to 4" x 6", before they're mounted on the blank note cards.<br />
I enjoy the different patterns that evolve from the process. Here are some of my favorite examples from this batch. Do you see a butterfly in this one?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDVHMLUkin6-Mbbx8bFURePbSr8Ev1EszpPKuUHqEMxw7ZXdZ7IgqDkVmg2rIv_zXi5xl4ZK2UM9tEfX7e-031dfyzNhCab3x6suIk5UfDc_ZAnR109FuoOjE8dtOdDfhh06WlNi3XDM/s1600/Cards05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1299" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDVHMLUkin6-Mbbx8bFURePbSr8Ev1EszpPKuUHqEMxw7ZXdZ7IgqDkVmg2rIv_zXi5xl4ZK2UM9tEfX7e-031dfyzNhCab3x6suIk5UfDc_ZAnR109FuoOjE8dtOdDfhh06WlNi3XDM/s320/Cards05.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdL2_zaQFu__VGB7FQXyBX-Z7uUyTF_5PQwVn_FVI68EaBsIm97GhTF9tmJgIek8bEoB1kCgGG3q5-k-VF-Z2M8eS8JqZZntvfl24vz7IboHYfuDAppgRXzpy2MvCyZ0kfPjtSqIY6KY/s1600/Cards06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1270" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdL2_zaQFu__VGB7FQXyBX-Z7uUyTF_5PQwVn_FVI68EaBsIm97GhTF9tmJgIek8bEoB1kCgGG3q5-k-VF-Z2M8eS8JqZZntvfl24vz7IboHYfuDAppgRXzpy2MvCyZ0kfPjtSqIY6KY/s320/Cards06.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z7_f2rhnA9hDhArjTpZSNC6vkPW8sGpHMkwGh2uL6SdUJ3LJPjh3FYCjatyoklPKNJ1auvdeP-L2LwUKqxuoCtNgyngovt-ZNhhwTZMJHatCZ-a75m4j_eEcp2PWcKj_4TDc69eYcLc/s1600/Cards07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="1600" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z7_f2rhnA9hDhArjTpZSNC6vkPW8sGpHMkwGh2uL6SdUJ3LJPjh3FYCjatyoklPKNJ1auvdeP-L2LwUKqxuoCtNgyngovt-ZNhhwTZMJHatCZ-a75m4j_eEcp2PWcKj_4TDc69eYcLc/s320/Cards07.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FwRPkvo0mCB4mds1qQvoSzdEK0lDGHfxMWhJ6hJ9ovxnYahxqjyZen0_htuRZGo6PVxdRg8xt-WyOolfurJhbtcqPLQAt6y8RyFL0X3NjyTb9uBPMXvEhIKq32X4P2uXLrA2QMK0FvY/s1600/Cards08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1081" data-original-width="1600" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7FwRPkvo0mCB4mds1qQvoSzdEK0lDGHfxMWhJ6hJ9ovxnYahxqjyZen0_htuRZGo6PVxdRg8xt-WyOolfurJhbtcqPLQAt6y8RyFL0X3NjyTb9uBPMXvEhIKq32X4P2uXLrA2QMK0FvY/s320/Cards08.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I'll be back to the 8x8 canvases next week!Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-64112245236173487122020-01-13T14:03:00.000-05:002020-01-13T14:03:51.691-05:00Week 7 - Number 17PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fyrD4qX4IuQ9GrCj1QQW5rB1oix-4es_YTrXYymx5wldYuFF4N10AZGPOgXBKxWOanXAYsceGuzQ59353OKs7vk6ii60Nu4IW450y5lVD-FQF39N_cuYDvw-zZYwmv5T4VPOy-CTMU8/s1600/8x8_017_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fyrD4qX4IuQ9GrCj1QQW5rB1oix-4es_YTrXYymx5wldYuFF4N10AZGPOgXBKxWOanXAYsceGuzQ59353OKs7vk6ii60Nu4IW450y5lVD-FQF39N_cuYDvw-zZYwmv5T4VPOy-CTMU8/s320/8x8_017_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#17 - Needle Felting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#17 - Needle felted piece, waiting for the stitching.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd_Oa7rwkE8CWyGE2suKO-dlW__kRNcUxt6_NJbdKcp2S2aZoFjxXtQTTorkoue4OJkjoUvsy4VVUnDtXuNJov1mYebdG2FM8B1Jc-0DGcQhi_fBItOaWaPguw4eGMAtY73zMB5Xo9Yk/s1600/8x8_017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1574" data-original-width="1600" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkd_Oa7rwkE8CWyGE2suKO-dlW__kRNcUxt6_NJbdKcp2S2aZoFjxXtQTTorkoue4OJkjoUvsy4VVUnDtXuNJov1mYebdG2FM8B1Jc-0DGcQhi_fBItOaWaPguw4eGMAtY73zMB5Xo9Yk/s320/8x8_017.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#17 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I did extensive machine stitching, to give detail to the piece, as well as hold the wool in place. The flowers are embroidery stitches on my Pfaff sewing machine.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkLCp1Diq-IHLGeYLY9BTUGpMCpWVEpBDDTg0iaC1hBfiYU1NWqFnySPcHZZnr-2ooVXOAQdheis6zT-EUZA3b6D6P2jLU3X1XphawJJlPwijdUoOURYJzpSMssUuB2ttqXdvOSmE4E0/s1600/Notecards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkLCp1Diq-IHLGeYLY9BTUGpMCpWVEpBDDTg0iaC1hBfiYU1NWqFnySPcHZZnr-2ooVXOAQdheis6zT-EUZA3b6D6P2jLU3X1XphawJJlPwijdUoOURYJzpSMssUuB2ttqXdvOSmE4E0/s320/Notecards.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note cards</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
These are note cards I create for Operation Gratitude. The images are India inks on archival tissue paper. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Till next week...</div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-9460996325489257162020-01-06T16:15:00.000-05:002020-01-29T16:23:14.357-05:00Week 6 - Numbers 15 and 16PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBG-tfadiRaJuw24v-fKaM2HbfeR33-VrSzPZrxB2ZABr6VT2BRrLxc0XRMOA_s2VZN6BVEDCJtLchBlyghpyzWzaDciijzBy7c68XvLbZSvz2hEVdYTgXPluxEgEt1By-uCkdRP0LvrI/s1600/8x8_015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBG-tfadiRaJuw24v-fKaM2HbfeR33-VrSzPZrxB2ZABr6VT2BRrLxc0XRMOA_s2VZN6BVEDCJtLchBlyghpyzWzaDciijzBy7c68XvLbZSvz2hEVdYTgXPluxEgEt1By-uCkdRP0LvrI/s320/8x8_015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"># 15 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
#15 - This piece is basically collaged from two silk fabrics I painted with acrylic inks. (The sun was cut from another fabric.) I used Wonder Under, a fusible web, to attach the fabrics to a background of stiff interfacing. The only stitching is the blanket stitch around the outside of the piece.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5R9veBfmEk7RPK9A8pADG1GtzcrUAouTjTdHOsXyLxXVjo9PuMDlel2ccgOLtMjYvlu8fsizevL4yzn2OPrO2HCXjZk41Rw5u4PSBWk4DETfTVNSTm8dGnpxg6q_XdCrtgvV6m-OjUeM/s1600/8x8_016_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5R9veBfmEk7RPK9A8pADG1GtzcrUAouTjTdHOsXyLxXVjo9PuMDlel2ccgOLtMjYvlu8fsizevL4yzn2OPrO2HCXjZk41Rw5u4PSBWk4DETfTVNSTm8dGnpxg6q_XdCrtgvV6m-OjUeM/s320/8x8_016_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"># 16 - 8" x 8" canvas - unfinished</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#16 - This piece is done with needle felting and machine stitching. For the final piece (below) I couched on yarns, to add to the grasses. Then I cropped it, adding a blanket stitch around the border.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFCt2xpcjOLSNeyUYuaYPU2IEStkK2Hz1UqoMQPweinWkOaLFgioGm3YudBGYAKyeRWMoDN_LUnGER38RmXOFpGpA_x866tzJi0GppDhh7kwQdK3kdpI5-kHlg8xMUORMSFacAdzPbes/s1600/8x8_016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFCt2xpcjOLSNeyUYuaYPU2IEStkK2Hz1UqoMQPweinWkOaLFgioGm3YudBGYAKyeRWMoDN_LUnGER38RmXOFpGpA_x866tzJi0GppDhh7kwQdK3kdpI5-kHlg8xMUORMSFacAdzPbes/s320/8x8_016.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"># 16 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Till next week....Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-40532383025545646322019-12-31T16:15:00.000-05:002020-01-29T16:18:38.116-05:00Week 5 - Numbers 13 and 14PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
This week I decided to give needle-felting another go. I use wool roving for the needle-felting. Did I have any wool roving, you might ask?<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqJlSaz6eqzdUfgGoZszjfHYAerYU7_0eLuU-1kUDw5T6x639ILZoHDn2ewleH4bg6FNZifY8gxg1uv3e7RfA00UihyphenhyphenfZqWJ4UCr_6QkjJdlgQ8y8YgdriWxJqN6ziWv-jos-MMnVMC8/s1600/WoolRoving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="1600" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqJlSaz6eqzdUfgGoZszjfHYAerYU7_0eLuU-1kUDw5T6x639ILZoHDn2ewleH4bg6FNZifY8gxg1uv3e7RfA00UihyphenhyphenfZqWJ4UCr_6QkjJdlgQ8y8YgdriWxJqN6ziWv-jos-MMnVMC8/s320/WoolRoving.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wool Roving</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yes, a wee bit... Probably enough for a couple of lifetimes.<br />
<br />
#13 - I started this piece by attaching some cheesecloth, which I'd dyed with acrylic inks, to my background.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0X7Rq-iypaEELxgQ2NL3z1lVs73i_KhbFDg7Y8jP7blZW-ddL3NiL9yKqrIGTYlT5NjaUXyDVUTeYPL8wJ4hSjrdUen7prwoaqiOA1Wc3ChHOa6LT9d8AB40PoDmHcxjlN7N7ZS-mQhc/s1600/8x8_013_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0X7Rq-iypaEELxgQ2NL3z1lVs73i_KhbFDg7Y8jP7blZW-ddL3NiL9yKqrIGTYlT5NjaUXyDVUTeYPL8wJ4hSjrdUen7prwoaqiOA1Wc3ChHOa6LT9d8AB40PoDmHcxjlN7N7ZS-mQhc/s320/8x8_013_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheesecloth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Next I added the pieces of wool roving.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYumWHNwKa1iAoCkOeFGEYZrKitJ-3NGnq6oMdTVhGnDq7eJ81-HX1Ls9_R97emCtF_x8HymEaTeXkTWd9gTRNPnF0NGZL3vM5gSHROD4XeFdOZhfaha8UiI3KYOvKSovyy_eQ-DnVls/s1600/8x8_013_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYumWHNwKa1iAoCkOeFGEYZrKitJ-3NGnq6oMdTVhGnDq7eJ81-HX1Ls9_R97emCtF_x8HymEaTeXkTWd9gTRNPnF0NGZL3vM5gSHROD4XeFdOZhfaha8UiI3KYOvKSovyy_eQ-DnVls/s320/8x8_013_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#13 - Wool Roving</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Followed by machine stitching to fasten the roving to the background, and to add detail.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmnRzwEmWM9XuNZCRM9mqzwimh1D3OVHYWpu6_EcPSgkDiUAgGjOd88SzzecZ-DGwYtf_Fs-zttd7aFRfoZeXpAjQvEOUEc8j8XWUWrqEnoHf5dq5vgw2mqc1E13x1aFD-i77qMaaOZw/s1600/8x8_013_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmnRzwEmWM9XuNZCRM9mqzwimh1D3OVHYWpu6_EcPSgkDiUAgGjOd88SzzecZ-DGwYtf_Fs-zttd7aFRfoZeXpAjQvEOUEc8j8XWUWrqEnoHf5dq5vgw2mqc1E13x1aFD-i77qMaaOZw/s320/8x8_013_c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#13 - 8" x 8" Canvas - Almost done</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Actually, I thought the piece was done, but I wasn't totally happy that the stamens didn't show up well in the picture. I used a black Uni Posca paint marker to outline the stamens. Here's the finished piece:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8AsTUXaRmJjMrCCXY_vqvWisEfMCXTU4UCSvx-bKa_KN-xqzMh4Rt6c_vy4b_vsLjpEmxlYBOv1buhSEKPInc5pCJ7gsHs41Vhbsm9EPO-DoYjoo7Iy_h3h0ICPXxvsCZmXo5H7vTpE/s1600/8x8_013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8AsTUXaRmJjMrCCXY_vqvWisEfMCXTU4UCSvx-bKa_KN-xqzMh4Rt6c_vy4b_vsLjpEmxlYBOv1buhSEKPInc5pCJ7gsHs41Vhbsm9EPO-DoYjoo7Iy_h3h0ICPXxvsCZmXo5H7vTpE/s320/8x8_013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#13 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
#14 - Needle-felting the wool roving:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhqUt6XFcRbwEK2u-MRRzpgA6LcytnIXcnHHITDtzdFgk6I8QQhULUZ7SpE9E7cwlJ8j5uCM2O60YdWEi_kGwIgKD8BlAekcL2-zR6DZt2PHD3tYWG8ZPM5B-X0iH-ae6e2xOdcGyob0/s1600/8x8_14_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhqUt6XFcRbwEK2u-MRRzpgA6LcytnIXcnHHITDtzdFgk6I8QQhULUZ7SpE9E7cwlJ8j5uCM2O60YdWEi_kGwIgKD8BlAekcL2-zR6DZt2PHD3tYWG8ZPM5B-X0iH-ae6e2xOdcGyob0/s320/8x8_14_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#14 - 8" x 8" Canvas - first go</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Next I did free-motion stitching with my sewing machine.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpIiMt2KrxoN3THC3QLfDnyVkVlUI02Rzbcc1Wgs-TqPRdP94KLZvNuiK60Btt35xHK3lhXjYQdsw3SrfUsf9-snNPoX3vN-FJ-_qVfzNDwHzMAd9f9krTT_U0Ky02Ni1i8IZHaPKIXA/s1600/8x8_14_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKpIiMt2KrxoN3THC3QLfDnyVkVlUI02Rzbcc1Wgs-TqPRdP94KLZvNuiK60Btt35xHK3lhXjYQdsw3SrfUsf9-snNPoX3vN-FJ-_qVfzNDwHzMAd9f9krTT_U0Ky02Ni1i8IZHaPKIXA/s320/8x8_14_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#14 - 8" x 8" Canvas - not quite there...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I added some paints to tone down the middle section, and to straighten out the left edge of the opening. Really, a subtle difference, but it made me happy. Here's #14, finished:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6HixGf8ZcZ6lhT2qfYQ3yZ78pcGZ3cw7wadqTUv8jMqoJgl91W9SD9TZs27T2w_E_VLycQRAcu4LLCip0n8x9kg3hyphenhyphenbAldwn4judLC-D-ORMRgq8egNBeU4QbxyFdi_DiQclXsvpygw/s1600/8x8_014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6HixGf8ZcZ6lhT2qfYQ3yZ78pcGZ3cw7wadqTUv8jMqoJgl91W9SD9TZs27T2w_E_VLycQRAcu4LLCip0n8x9kg3hyphenhyphenbAldwn4judLC-D-ORMRgq8egNBeU4QbxyFdi_DiQclXsvpygw/s320/8x8_014.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#14 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Till next week...Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-67870423842471509732019-12-23T15:42:00.000-05:002020-01-03T08:34:37.078-05:00Week 4 - Numbers 10, 11, and 12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdaorNT9SjwrKt5RchwEd_P8I07MupI075rcrH2sctI3YD0Mf_KZiac3p05r4_08CHtb-q5juXpRe_vbdjZjRE0v6mPD2Buug2GgWoQJUj3qcxOVTU0AAiB5KJYlbSx2grIDAQpBBrMb4/s1600/8x8_10_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdaorNT9SjwrKt5RchwEd_P8I07MupI075rcrH2sctI3YD0Mf_KZiac3p05r4_08CHtb-q5juXpRe_vbdjZjRE0v6mPD2Buug2GgWoQJUj3qcxOVTU0AAiB5KJYlbSx2grIDAQpBBrMb4/s320/8x8_10_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#10 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#10 - I made a quilt sandwich using a piece of a nylon slip, some batting, and a piece of cotton for the backing. Then I did free-motion machine stitching to "draw" the flowers. This was done without a pattern. I used variegated thread, hence the lights and darks in the stitching.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwctbdGKQgeyzfaGgBl3qfWULJK2kUG591xuITAN1cKcHRfYEKs_4dDgbdeM2ApL64vexD3dLGf-wIuTJVZu0dk3-sybpNmBe5Y4qv4SuOVNId5HuqwWmx2Gr0WFbXxzS_esN8uJE-eWw/s1600/8x8_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwctbdGKQgeyzfaGgBl3qfWULJK2kUG591xuITAN1cKcHRfYEKs_4dDgbdeM2ApL64vexD3dLGf-wIuTJVZu0dk3-sybpNmBe5Y4qv4SuOVNId5HuqwWmx2Gr0WFbXxzS_esN8uJE-eWw/s320/8x8_10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#10 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#10 - I painted the flowers with a mix of watercolors and Inktense pencils. The blanket stitch around the edge is done with the variegated thread. The mini-quilt is mounted on an 8" x 8" canvas, painted yellow-gold.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIA5b5RJLFwCYIv61P_299N7QnqGLcAHOs7WT8US_z2VE247y6wyDMV17wFiBLHHvFcEyyT6HICnJ1giljeIeOczHgI3bbjJRpGwNW3YFJjL25gvWD7gjDUtsYWnfNyMXEuq0WALG_tCU/s1600/8x8_10_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIA5b5RJLFwCYIv61P_299N7QnqGLcAHOs7WT8US_z2VE247y6wyDMV17wFiBLHHvFcEyyT6HICnJ1giljeIeOczHgI3bbjJRpGwNW3YFJjL25gvWD7gjDUtsYWnfNyMXEuq0WALG_tCU/s320/8x8_10_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#10 - 8" x 8" canvas - Detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#10 - Detail showing the painted flowers.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rMdwf7CN9TIPGqwZtrFLYjqKBuKLRTqSy_ntqNLA4rizojHcC5_HP4S4TkvgNan1tsZ0Wm0OH1FEHG3OMpuvCHbRaLuTWtT9fdhk6onS2Spec_UljHKXYm95jDsGYrTYb7fVqR0WtC4/s1600/8x8_11_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1rMdwf7CN9TIPGqwZtrFLYjqKBuKLRTqSy_ntqNLA4rizojHcC5_HP4S4TkvgNan1tsZ0Wm0OH1FEHG3OMpuvCHbRaLuTWtT9fdhk6onS2Spec_UljHKXYm95jDsGYrTYb7fVqR0WtC4/s320/8x8_11_c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#11 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#11 - This piece started with a collage of silk fabrics painted with acrylic inks.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sxBOjsQNO5Ex2ydNHudPME8BZC8W34mCLGYgwshTzWiEmtQOxd14AXfe20rTNj0EmWcprfciX-ZCfe2k_m-0ICKplWqb6y_WDEM1QG6usGYz5wp-Pu8jPU-VAzOxB1KR5T77Frl2bPY/s1600/8x8_11_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sxBOjsQNO5Ex2ydNHudPME8BZC8W34mCLGYgwshTzWiEmtQOxd14AXfe20rTNj0EmWcprfciX-ZCfe2k_m-0ICKplWqb6y_WDEM1QG6usGYz5wp-Pu8jPU-VAzOxB1KR5T77Frl2bPY/s320/8x8_11_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#11 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#11 - More fabrics and lace auditioning for the final piece.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbl0IckgFULuTE9jWXWa5JBdX2XQUFftPu-DSxt8ZHW7zvQExX7rVDMrrQfwIkpIRX7vBhQToSx0IwANB0AAhUGHmDdcpkeMBS9v9cbUX4io0aY_pqnRDCHFab6AKdG_HZTb1s7AizOyA/s1600/8x8_11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbl0IckgFULuTE9jWXWa5JBdX2XQUFftPu-DSxt8ZHW7zvQExX7rVDMrrQfwIkpIRX7vBhQToSx0IwANB0AAhUGHmDdcpkeMBS9v9cbUX4io0aY_pqnRDCHFab6AKdG_HZTb1s7AizOyA/s320/8x8_11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#11 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#11 - Finished canvas. Fabrics were attached to the canvas using matte medium.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jnDlQx0eLfiOwzizsUBt62MRE8l03lbzmP8kps2uuxiHp0HwsVXGUgbsSTy18E1m53E9VDE8zhtWbygN36mFzEI7JTXkLoqxBeKhI5hSr09chb5hxLW3pKaAs_C1Bj-INTEpAJTNa2s/s1600/8x8_11_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jnDlQx0eLfiOwzizsUBt62MRE8l03lbzmP8kps2uuxiHp0HwsVXGUgbsSTy18E1m53E9VDE8zhtWbygN36mFzEI7JTXkLoqxBeKhI5hSr09chb5hxLW3pKaAs_C1Bj-INTEpAJTNa2s/s320/8x8_11_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#11 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#11 - Detail.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgguSD75RyoI2yeMBXZsnT4K8mPi2pFRFaD_pkUKxf5VmqZEpyIM3efDQYkq4hbOVnqK3aMGoqXgAKbYa21MjpykUFuU_dnnQ25WvphWDSwV1SnmokX6PFk_ggODYskC4AOWmcUVXIEiHc/s1600/8x8_12_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgguSD75RyoI2yeMBXZsnT4K8mPi2pFRFaD_pkUKxf5VmqZEpyIM3efDQYkq4hbOVnqK3aMGoqXgAKbYa21MjpykUFuU_dnnQ25WvphWDSwV1SnmokX6PFk_ggODYskC4AOWmcUVXIEiHc/s320/8x8_12_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#12 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#12, like #11, started with a collage of fabrics painted with acrylic inks.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKFZKauhi8iX9QhQHPwEAsp0-Uy5XKNPgv81lZjyGe79FLLSVoZnNEDnVdHi0V1iquis07nAEK7LGfRTeE0BknpaSDuIT3OLYbhBwiNg-S7K6jkpncoNqAxknoDHJiU3ER79149-Qy4g/s1600/8x8_12_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKFZKauhi8iX9QhQHPwEAsp0-Uy5XKNPgv81lZjyGe79FLLSVoZnNEDnVdHi0V1iquis07nAEK7LGfRTeE0BknpaSDuIT3OLYbhBwiNg-S7K6jkpncoNqAxknoDHJiU3ER79149-Qy4g/s320/8x8_12_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#12 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#12 - This piece of smocking was from a thrift store blouse. I cut an 8" piece to try out on the canvas.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGZSuGi0ZjCOhaTmMg4C1X74TBPrhKLlmpquqF24Fw_-R4uL6membu30vMklCUfH8UX9y7YTtwuc0WFIp9lkmfo4Kq8d8Io4dnphOc06XLKqCWhPTYb7RDsKvwK3TISD7w7jZj7C3OL0/s1600/8x8_12_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGZSuGi0ZjCOhaTmMg4C1X74TBPrhKLlmpquqF24Fw_-R4uL6membu30vMklCUfH8UX9y7YTtwuc0WFIp9lkmfo4Kq8d8Io4dnphOc06XLKqCWhPTYb7RDsKvwK3TISD7w7jZj7C3OL0/s320/8x8_12_c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#12 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#12 - After the smocking was sewn on to the background, I had second thoughts! I came real close to tossing it at this point. Instead, I couched on navy blue yarn, and added flowers cut from the same blouse as the smocking.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sPVGC79J4aACiJQJ5QxGFFn9Tm3ylwuZlPhYAFECEU_7GW4r7kV8IeS7XIMw_bjXCy1oZmWRodOVaGsQcuaEVP-9rDFUJVfM7bWvjRtOM_XSFjNDXh95JLN_Xoe4GqAf-k_Hsd8Xr_I/s1600/8x8_12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sPVGC79J4aACiJQJ5QxGFFn9Tm3ylwuZlPhYAFECEU_7GW4r7kV8IeS7XIMw_bjXCy1oZmWRodOVaGsQcuaEVP-9rDFUJVfM7bWvjRtOM_XSFjNDXh95JLN_Xoe4GqAf-k_Hsd8Xr_I/s320/8x8_12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#12 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#12 - The finished piece, mounted on an 8" x 8" canvas, using matte medium. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Till next week...</div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-72335100419023446032019-12-15T16:34:00.000-05:002020-01-03T08:34:55.259-05:00Week 3 - Numbers 7, 8, and 9PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV6nZUWYRx4uQJbsQE4Vvp9lfXM0ych8CTSNzTVJfIA9GPNEUMuD-NfQc77ZZsqb_GMr_4ZAQhO-4Vf3dbB96aFmHWhi869AJKJ6rMV6ERP7_7YXS_kyGRXdVROavs7v38q-qGokatL10/s1600/8x8_007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV6nZUWYRx4uQJbsQE4Vvp9lfXM0ych8CTSNzTVJfIA9GPNEUMuD-NfQc77ZZsqb_GMr_4ZAQhO-4Vf3dbB96aFmHWhi869AJKJ6rMV6ERP7_7YXS_kyGRXdVROavs7v38q-qGokatL10/s320/8x8_007.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#7 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#7 - Acrylic inks on fabric. I used machine stitching to affix the pieces of the collage. The collaged piece is attached to canvas using matte medium. I also coated it with matte medium, to hold a few loose edges in place.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5DkAtBGX9maIstVZB0RCLZ2EL9nQ2ebYxSQ6ih5xECt36oDDuEWibzxNVQjvw9AKb_CmS6U8DMKhxH7gCzdX1SshL79G80dSMsiUjS0m7ToImlSVe_x2YwsK0iNLt6AYyk8-8H-wccU/s1600/8x8_008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5DkAtBGX9maIstVZB0RCLZ2EL9nQ2ebYxSQ6ih5xECt36oDDuEWibzxNVQjvw9AKb_CmS6U8DMKhxH7gCzdX1SshL79G80dSMsiUjS0m7ToImlSVe_x2YwsK0iNLt6AYyk8-8H-wccU/s320/8x8_008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#8 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#8 - The fabric was cut from a nylon half-slip I found at the Salvation Army. I colored the fabric with Inktense blocks and pencils. Wetting the colors turned the Inktense chalk to permanent ink. I added batting, and a piece of backing cotton. Machine stitching added detail to the painting. The mini quilt is mounted on the canvas using matte medium.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbQ4QmQ43P04UIGUtYp2VQIpi3nJMGlWyubJb4PUGmh8HLqnhmg2xcl9L5f7zkLnUMtfPG1lg4qBfbVveZeuK1b58W6nprXXhfy1-ZSAmLDssLeaeEkWpePUkKSNJB9sKw8LZ7fJjqqE/s1600/8x8_008_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbQ4QmQ43P04UIGUtYp2VQIpi3nJMGlWyubJb4PUGmh8HLqnhmg2xcl9L5f7zkLnUMtfPG1lg4qBfbVveZeuK1b58W6nprXXhfy1-ZSAmLDssLeaeEkWpePUkKSNJB9sKw8LZ7fJjqqE/s320/8x8_008_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#8 - 8" x 8" Canvas - The painting before stitching.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The painting before stitching.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUW1sCcLmnYsNHG_neoQZkcpRD_WZlJZTbtTvso7vX9wqQr2o_3gQVqjAcgssNB0VVzngli0980m_fgU_a3aSQbLDn9oXQhl8o6ICX0pS7MN0w3jR2qKpX0YImGFyidxAgLQzD8eEWyU/s1600/8x8_008_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUW1sCcLmnYsNHG_neoQZkcpRD_WZlJZTbtTvso7vX9wqQr2o_3gQVqjAcgssNB0VVzngli0980m_fgU_a3aSQbLDn9oXQhl8o6ICX0pS7MN0w3jR2qKpX0YImGFyidxAgLQzD8eEWyU/s320/8x8_008_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#8 - 8" x 8" Canvas - Detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The detail shows a close-up of the machine stitching.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93YptgVneQK7xuBnQYs8pl8erEewyP0mnJbPbQXwkn8j6qziZ0ezcj50-uXOHH5MtuAKz3KdY1RVgvxGhLAr-XpKzJEQwQQln6nOfcD5-gNd9ZxKI2TeU61gZw6hpRt1vHPA7VaE3eJA/s1600/8x8_009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93YptgVneQK7xuBnQYs8pl8erEewyP0mnJbPbQXwkn8j6qziZ0ezcj50-uXOHH5MtuAKz3KdY1RVgvxGhLAr-XpKzJEQwQQln6nOfcD5-gNd9ZxKI2TeU61gZw6hpRt1vHPA7VaE3eJA/s320/8x8_009.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#9 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#9 - The fabric is crepe de chine painted with acrylic inks. I had piled the fabrics, then added inks and water. The dark markings are from the ink settling at the bottom of the pile. I heat set the ink with an iron. The three black lines at the bottom of the piece were made with what was supposedly a permanent marker. Guess not...<br />
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<br />
Till next week...</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-11174094646789235982019-12-09T14:33:00.001-05:002020-01-03T08:35:13.318-05:00Week 2 - Numbers 4, 5, and 6<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsAhghM1fNwsLrnIGX1Dp7ZXMLsjQUwwvZ1SZ3tayZhA5_8lA9w6a4x1QqGFFIS4a7PW_6BiBMZx_kNe9ZTiKz-_t-NGf5ymCnGhSsjvLWrdf6-STRkKaUsIIIGCF6d4VctpujdyslYU/s1600/8x8_004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsAhghM1fNwsLrnIGX1Dp7ZXMLsjQUwwvZ1SZ3tayZhA5_8lA9w6a4x1QqGFFIS4a7PW_6BiBMZx_kNe9ZTiKz-_t-NGf5ymCnGhSsjvLWrdf6-STRkKaUsIIIGCF6d4VctpujdyslYU/s320/8x8_004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">#4 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#4 - Acrylic inks on fabrics, with extensive machine thread painting.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9lM7oNRUzAA_jj0OA_pFX7oYFyqZPBSrNm1nYuErJ_DTXg_-tcZynlswwTicjbEfd9l_3eX4koM79Hzl-Kzwe_ynfXmA1M6onmTa6_aUdCPlKE958nHJi7zjsmpSpM_ywDFreH_XKRc/s1600/8x8_005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9lM7oNRUzAA_jj0OA_pFX7oYFyqZPBSrNm1nYuErJ_DTXg_-tcZynlswwTicjbEfd9l_3eX4koM79Hzl-Kzwe_ynfXmA1M6onmTa6_aUdCPlKE958nHJi7zjsmpSpM_ywDFreH_XKRc/s320/8x8_005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#5 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#5 - The above project uses a calligraphy pen called an Elegant Writer. The ink is black, but when water is added, other colors appear. There is also a bit of machine stitching.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvu-CTahVLH4w-_KhDoy0WPEUtRGJCKyEMZ156tBf70sCBUvbc-8NRFm4w28qwjt7Gt9goSQ-abMDMhd0VjnkHfMc6pDu5MUz_wN0OtMNNGDnvJ9gFrjKqzyr02GGfXe0nq_B6dTrmNg/s1600/8x8_006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1018" data-original-width="1028" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvu-CTahVLH4w-_KhDoy0WPEUtRGJCKyEMZ156tBf70sCBUvbc-8NRFm4w28qwjt7Gt9goSQ-abMDMhd0VjnkHfMc6pDu5MUz_wN0OtMNNGDnvJ9gFrjKqzyr02GGfXe0nq_B6dTrmNg/s320/8x8_006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#6 - 8" x 8" Canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
#6 - A collage of hand-painted fabrics using acrylic inks.Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-9737721590761742092019-12-01T13:59:00.000-05:002020-01-03T08:35:49.181-05:00New Project - 8" x 8" Canvases - Week 1My latest project involves creating textile art and mounting it on 8" x 8" canvases. I decided to awaken my dormant blog to use it as a record of the finished canvases, and a reminder of the techniques involved. I'm planning on a weekly blog.<br />
<br />
PROJECT: Create 88 - 8" x 8" Canvases<br />
<br />
PARAMETERS: Fiber Art (including textiles, fabrics, gauze, cheesecloth, yarn, thread, embroidery floss, wool roving, and paper), mounted on 8" x 8" canvases.<br />
<br />
GOAL: Create hardcover book, showcasing this art.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtolwKsCbg5NK7Jbx48t0B3Dct-t3ltgoW_974fLgZU6kx7T14FvN58yrYHV46zI_mr5pPR4D7yCEg_zLdohGn4BXROcoW4pBokwZogXwBZoKM3ea78FCCidtmjP4Ed6__vgMi9hBPBd8/s1600/IMG_20191201_132629217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtolwKsCbg5NK7Jbx48t0B3Dct-t3ltgoW_974fLgZU6kx7T14FvN58yrYHV46zI_mr5pPR4D7yCEg_zLdohGn4BXROcoW4pBokwZogXwBZoKM3ea78FCCidtmjP4Ed6__vgMi9hBPBd8/s320/IMG_20191201_132629217.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canvas Storage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWD1y076DjdH2v-LxOeXT8CDLAxXxOBlMTvNze0bBZTwlbO-EA0J1Q_ENkFxTckk1XVe0oGJqy9AvKjtppbXcCZAEh8uKB_MXrrodeZZIByxabB0iwOCsEdKurGcpdxJB-8L_KcPM94JM/s1600/8x8_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWD1y076DjdH2v-LxOeXT8CDLAxXxOBlMTvNze0bBZTwlbO-EA0J1Q_ENkFxTckk1XVe0oGJqy9AvKjtppbXcCZAEh8uKB_MXrrodeZZIByxabB0iwOCsEdKurGcpdxJB-8L_KcPM94JM/s320/8x8_001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For this canvas, I used lace I'd cut from a thrift store blouse for the background. The flower is from another blouse. The color comes from acrylic inks, mostly sepia, with some gold to highlight the flower.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZNCzwBKQ4oCQERHm69OEGzBeZFDMyG7V09mR7kbEbSYgWr_zVRPBNbm_JbNP48P3f_n2RgGn_g_IifnqigI9FvLnApLOf20tWFusUzqXiuuAAPocOzNc3mTYRO-iDaPAl5PtbFHrdUQ/s1600/8x8_003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZNCzwBKQ4oCQERHm69OEGzBeZFDMyG7V09mR7kbEbSYgWr_zVRPBNbm_JbNP48P3f_n2RgGn_g_IifnqigI9FvLnApLOf20tWFusUzqXiuuAAPocOzNc3mTYRO-iDaPAl5PtbFHrdUQ/s320/8x8_003.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#2 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This mini-quilt is attached to the canvas using matte medium. You can see the blanket stitch around the outer edge of the quilt. I used crepe de chine and silk fabrics, which I colored with acrylic inks. The tree is free-motion machine stitching. Acrylic paint covers the edges of the canvas.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Nwb0yIs_RpCLRrbwyCvUv1MLc5Lnq5lsh4pf9zqjCzDDHDrIu84qEdpe74Hd2WEp6sk2GK-m4k6OBgP1AxwK3TwpHKpMnAZlJYOMQTxNxAluiYBnoZfXG9vw5W2S4inJAIvCjSv55Uk/s1600/8x8_004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Nwb0yIs_RpCLRrbwyCvUv1MLc5Lnq5lsh4pf9zqjCzDDHDrIu84qEdpe74Hd2WEp6sk2GK-m4k6OBgP1AxwK3TwpHKpMnAZlJYOMQTxNxAluiYBnoZfXG9vw5W2S4inJAIvCjSv55Uk/s320/8x8_004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3 - 8" x 8" canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKB6GPGRintRQVq4epw3oCiqaRrmyJo86A98pcaQf-oqyAtEBwFagL_IalyWsplp91oZyw1IMwvKvHy-y6oT23uiF4F1gBisQe2O101EshDf4wLQd0TBfKGsCTx52i9M4Nq8vVPi_Auz8/s1600/8x8_004_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKB6GPGRintRQVq4epw3oCiqaRrmyJo86A98pcaQf-oqyAtEBwFagL_IalyWsplp91oZyw1IMwvKvHy-y6oT23uiF4F1gBisQe2O101EshDf4wLQd0TBfKGsCTx52i9M4Nq8vVPi_Auz8/s320/8x8_004_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3 - 8" x 8" canvas - Detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This beach scene involves fabrics directly glued to the canvas, using matte medium. The fabrics are cotton, silk, cheese cloth (the water), and gauze (the sea foam).<br />
<br />
Till next week...Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-2490360941882446392018-07-23T10:12:00.000-04:002018-07-23T10:12:25.752-04:00Nightmare Ship<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvWZukeEJnylvPWt3aKo3DPBUpOKaWb9_JYlqqmjJ6G4KOjcXstQGsjH9e0hmywyumEdop-gmdFCyuYHOcZVYkyDXBnKXWXM5UbvJ3c3UzzOBcu7C3UXMk6g69aGSlPbX2B_qo0gAADo/s1600/b-ShipAtNight_4x6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvWZukeEJnylvPWt3aKo3DPBUpOKaWb9_JYlqqmjJ6G4KOjcXstQGsjH9e0hmywyumEdop-gmdFCyuYHOcZVYkyDXBnKXWXM5UbvJ3c3UzzOBcu7C3UXMk6g69aGSlPbX2B_qo0gAADo/s200/b-ShipAtNight_4x6.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
November 1988 </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ed monitored the radio for official
weather reports, as well as for comments from other yachts in different parts
of the ocean. It sounded like there was wind further to the south.
Deciding to temporarily give up our westward course, we took down the sails,
and started the engine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pointed the
bow due south, motoring for the next twenty-four hours. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Over 100 miles farther to the
south, we did find wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the
morning of our tenth day out of the Canary Islands, we again raised the twin
headsails, shut off the engine, engaged the autopilot, and resumed our
westerly trek. We had also moved ourselves into position for a
rendezvous with my nautical nemesis - the ship would come that very night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Our schedule was organized so we
ate our one hot meal of the day at 4:00 p.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I then stood watch from 4:00-8:00 p.m., while Ed got his first sleep of
the night. On November 26<sup>th</sup>, I went on watch as usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoyed the nightly spectacle put on by
the setting sun, in conjunction with the puffy trade wind clouds. When
darkness came, it was absolute, as the moon wasn't due to rise till 8:00 p.m.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I would guess it was about 6:30
p.m. when I first noticed the lights of a ship off to starboard. We’d
been out for ten days, covered 950 miles, and this was only the third ship we
had seen since leaving the Canaries. We were hundreds of miles away from
the shipping lanes marked on the charts. I was actually pleased to see
the ship's lights as it would give me something to watch during an otherwise
boring stretch of time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I took a good look and saw two
white lights, the rear one higher and to the right of the forward one, with the
red port light further back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought
I was seeing a freighter heading in the same direction as Tropic Moon.
The lights seemed to grow in size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
decided the ship was coming more toward us, and would cross ahead of our
boat. (We didn’t have radar, so I was making my best guess.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn't concerned, because many ships came
close to Tropic Moon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I attributed that
to curiosity on the part of the ships' crews, while Ed always said Tropic Moon
had an urge to mate with other ships. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I continued watching as the lights
grew, and was surprised to see the two white lights go horizontal in relation
to each other -- something I had never seen before. Then they seemed to
go back to their proper positions for a short time, and then go horizontal
again. I was confused, though not overly concerned; still thinking I was
seeing the side view of a ship passing us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I decided to call Ed. I
walked to the hatch over the aft cabin, lifted it, and asked Ed if he would
come up on deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a boat, and
I couldn't understand the lights. He asked if it was a sailboat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,” I replied, “a real ship."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
At that point I lowered the hatch
and turned to face the lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peering
through the blackness, I realized the white lights had disappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That meant the ship was too close for me to
see the lights on deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could hear
the ship’s engines, and started screaming, bringing Ed at a run. Not able
to see anything but the red port light, Ed dashed forward to drop one of the
headsails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Instinct took over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I jumped into the cockpit, pushed the button
to start the engine, and released the autopilot. As he ran back to the
cockpit, Ed saw me start to turn the wheel to the right, and yelled, "No,
the other way." Ed dropped into the cockpit in front of me, and put
the wheel hard over to port. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We both sat down, me behind Ed with
my legs on either side of him. Knowing he had just run up from his bunk,
and that he wasn't wearing a safety harness, I wrapped my arms tightly around
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided wherever we were going,
we were going there together.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I glanced over my shoulder and saw
the ship for the first time. I gaped up at an immense black wall, towering
several stories above the water, huge white waves frothing around the bow, the
ship bearing down on us through the darkness. I had a flash of instant
recognition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my nightmare
ship. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s going to hit us!” I cried.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Expecting to have Tropic Moon
smashed by the behemoth, I released my safety harness from where it was
attached to the deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want to
be dragged underwater if Tropic Moon sank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wrapped my arms back around Ed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Before we had completed our turn,
we collided with the ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It clipped
our bow, bending over the bow roller, and folding our steel bow pulpit like a
pretzel. The impact turned us sideways, pointing us in the same direction
as the ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We banged down the whole
length of the ship as it passed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It seemed to take an eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The noise was awful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The spreaders of both masts repeatedly hit
the ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main mast began to crack,
and the hulls scraped together (Ed saw sparks fly between the two steel
boats). There was plenty of time to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fully expecting to die, I thought of our families, and how they
wouldn't know what had happened to us, and how unfair that was to them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Near the rear of the tanker, where
it curved under, Tropic Moon started to lean over, and be sucked under the
stern of the ship. About this time, the main mast snapped off and our
boat popped upright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mizzenmast
spreader hit the tanker one last time, and then we came free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw the tops of the propeller, and the
foaming wash at the stern of the ship. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ed was immediately up and looking
around. I stood in the cockpit, stunned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I tried to turn the wheel, but found we’d lost our steering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put the engine in neutral. During
the collision, a wave of water had come over the boat, pouring into the open
ports and hatches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were drenched, as
well as everything inside the boat. Ed pumped the bilge, and then went
below to pull up floorboards, to see if we were taking on water. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I went below and connected our VHF
radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called, "Mayday!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mayday!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You've hit us." Ed heard me, and told me to stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said it wasn't a Mayday unless we were
actually sinking, and he didn't know yet if that were the case! In a
huff, I shut off the radio, without waiting for an answer, and went out to sit
in the cockpit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The spreader on the
mizzenmast, which had been dangling from a wire, let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It crashed to the deck, right next to where
I was sitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized, if I’d been
a foot over, the heavy wooden spreader could have cracked my head open like a
ripe melon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was too numb to
care. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The tanker, which must have heard
my Mayday, had ghosted to a stop in the distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moon, now risen in the east, poised in the dark sky beyond
the ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The serenity of that peaceful
scene contrasted sharply with the devastation surrounding Tropic Moon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once Ed had determined we weren't
sinking, he called the tanker, which had come to a halt about a half-mile away
from us. Ed cancelled the Mayday, and gave them a report on the
damage: the main mast broken off and in the water, both sails and all the
rigging in the sea, the mizzenmast still standing, but cracked along the glue
joints, the steering not functioning, but looking repairable, the steel hull
damaged, but apparently still intact.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We exchanged information with the
ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had tangled with a 135,000-ton
oil tanker, named Stratus, 900 feet in length and 100 feet in width. We
learned the ship was running empty, on passage from Philadelphia to Nigeria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stratus was traveling southeast, we were
traveling west, and, hundreds of miles from the nearest land, our paths had
intersected.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We considered abandoning Tropic
Moon, and being taken aboard the tanker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the end, we decided to try to motor to the Cape Verde Islands, 300
miles distant. We didn’t have a chart for Cape Verde, and asked the
captain of the tanker if they could provide one. They agreed, and offered
to motor over with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ed asked them to
stay away from us until we were able to maneuver on our own. In the end,
the tanker stood by for five hours while we retrieved sails, strapped the
broken pieces of mast along the side of the hull, and Ed jury-rigged a fix on
the steering. It was with sheer terror on my part that we finally motored
over to the steep-sided hull of the towering tanker.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We could barely see the people on
deck; they were so high above us. They had prepared a chart for
us. The chart was well wrapped in plastic, tied into a bucket, and
suspended between two lengths of anchoring rope. There was
a monkey's fist at the end of one of the ropes. A monkey's fist is a
knot that's like a round, hard rock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was what they threw down onto Tropic Moon's deck. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Ed was handling his jury-rigged
steering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was up to me to retrieve
the chart. I captured the monkey's fist, and then started hauling in on
the rope. Eventually, I reached the bucket, and tried to free the chart
from the bucket. It was tied in too securely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I tried to hang on to the bucket, the
two boats were drifting apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
looked like I'd be pulled off Tropic Moon; I had no choice but to let go
of the rope. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The men on the deck of the tanker
saw what had happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They pulled the
ropes and bucket back up to their deck. When Ed was able to maneuver Tropic
Moon close to the ship again, the men threw the monkey's fist for a second
time. But this time, when they saw I had pulled the bucket onto Tropic
Moon, knowing I wouldn't be able to free the chart, they let go of their end of
the rope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fell into the sea. I
pulled the whole length of rope aboard. We motored away from the
ship while Ed expressed our thanks over the VHF radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The tanker sailed off into the
darkness, its lights sinking below the horizon, leaving us battered, and very
much alone, on a very lonely sea.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Link to purchase the book, <b><i>Tropic Moon: Memories - </i></b><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.blurb.com/b/8840547-tropic-moon&source=gmail&ust=1532441425751000&usg=AFQjCNEWjHvLhQ5982o5da2i8RXBNQ1FLw" href="http://www.blurb.com/b/8840547-tropic-moon" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">http://www.blurb.com/b/<wbr></wbr>8840547-tropic-moon</a></div>
<br />Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-60030412762672656152017-12-01T10:03:00.000-05:002017-12-01T10:03:34.496-05:001985 (10) – Whale Sightings<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVECc7VqCpgu3SMaY07KG3N5y7E8ChmZyn9FQCkKGlQISYxMPe4FgKDSG9syNdv2sqHhNy4wNvdRvm-vQs_No8syuEINW4D56dW65BzReYqEWGEVpuPSG1HNgPkAUNkj6OFgbetjX5OtM/s1600/GoneFishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVECc7VqCpgu3SMaY07KG3N5y7E8ChmZyn9FQCkKGlQISYxMPe4FgKDSG9syNdv2sqHhNy4wNvdRvm-vQs_No8syuEINW4D56dW65BzReYqEWGEVpuPSG1HNgPkAUNkj6OFgbetjX5OtM/s320/GoneFishing.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gone Fishin' Mixed Media, 8" x 10"<br />Acrylic paints, polymer clay, sand, shells, fabric patch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps
the area around the Balearics was an especially good one for spotting marine
life because, during our nine-hour day sail from Ibiza to Majorca, we had
another treat in store for us. On my watch in mid-afternoon, the autopilot
was steering as usual. I was sitting on
deck deeply engrossed in a paperback. I almost jumped out of my skin at
the sound of a very loud snort nearby, and looked up to find two large whales
had surfaced close to the boat. I called Ed, who came up from below to
have a look at the whales, who obligingly reappeared. It was the closest
by far we had ever seen whales. I was
torn between nervousness at their proximity, and the awe and excitement of
seeing the long sleek black bodies gliding in our company. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakfHiaMk9tynGHkHt9eTszTOTJNLwN-8arwdKzXmOVWMueUNGm4v0LPG0DrGe3ZieN-r96k1dLnX0DT-kAVKb-j-Hs0n_rheq9KAsnD7ywXKDAHbS54cJdEL8RuOOO1ZC4jRmGLXeBP8/s1600/PuzzledParrot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakfHiaMk9tynGHkHt9eTszTOTJNLwN-8arwdKzXmOVWMueUNGm4v0LPG0DrGe3ZieN-r96k1dLnX0DT-kAVKb-j-Hs0n_rheq9KAsnD7ywXKDAHbS54cJdEL8RuOOO1ZC4jRmGLXeBP8/s320/PuzzledParrot.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puzzled Parrot, Mixed Media, 8" x 10"<br />Acrylic paints, jigsaw puzzle pieces</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later I
saw several spume clouds astern, followed by glimpses of the dark bodies as the
whales came to the surface to breathe. A study of our whale book
led us to believe that what we saw were finback whales, a common whale of
30-70 feet, second in size only to the blue whale. The description of the
high spout, the sleek back followed by a view of the dorsal fin, and the fact
that the whales didn't show their tail flukes when they dove, all tallied with
a sighting of a finback. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZFqv1h7fVEfpOwvmyiMIjaOvUJB1VXKOTKq3TKADoy4Xbqf_oZF3yV1Jmvo1FzIXaGxWP_9W7y2QSjX1XsSxVDNY-K7yGPncQ3tftjxcXzrQ_oEAZAnlxvKiuWZa9hUj5dNqZKO8sUY/s1600/PuzzledHorses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZFqv1h7fVEfpOwvmyiMIjaOvUJB1VXKOTKq3TKADoy4Xbqf_oZF3yV1Jmvo1FzIXaGxWP_9W7y2QSjX1XsSxVDNY-K7yGPncQ3tftjxcXzrQ_oEAZAnlxvKiuWZa9hUj5dNqZKO8sUY/s320/PuzzledHorses.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Puzzled Horses, Mixed Media, 8" x 10"<br />Fabric background, jigsaw puzzle pieces</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we'd
been promised, there was little wind that summer, but when it did come, it made
for some peaceful, pleasant meanderings on Tropic Moon. When we were
ready to leave the small harbor of San Telmo on Majorca, Ed stopped me just as
I was poised to push the button to start the engine. He had decided we
would sail out of the harbor, and asked me which sail I wanted to put
up. I raised the mainsail, while Ed took care of the mizzen. I took the wheel, and slowly tacked the boat
forward, while Ed pulled in on the anchor rope. When the anchor was
stowed, he raised the jib sail. We
sheeted in the sails as tightly as we could, and slowly - but very slowly -
tacked out of the harbor in virtually nonexistent wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFu10l5J8mPvRCkB4sdGKPtRE2qhQY-IuPzXXZ1TDogPevrygISpzM-4NMsXuAkR1KqbPSlOJtHt4gpnYOTdhIHwJ7NmSwNwWDLusioM8OUrgWOFmJY66HqHtV2tUjTysWFjMhj5hk9hg/s1600/DiscoDancer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFu10l5J8mPvRCkB4sdGKPtRE2qhQY-IuPzXXZ1TDogPevrygISpzM-4NMsXuAkR1KqbPSlOJtHt4gpnYOTdhIHwJ7NmSwNwWDLusioM8OUrgWOFmJY66HqHtV2tUjTysWFjMhj5hk9hg/s320/DiscoDancer.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disco Dancer, Mixed Media, 8" x 10"<br />Fabric background, Polymer clay head,<br />Glitter glued for body, Button for disco ball</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Having nothing better
to do that day, we decided to sail all the way to our next anchorage, though it
ended up taking us around five hours to do about eight miles. The wind
was what weather people jokingly refer to as 'variable,' which means it goes
from nothing to light, and continually changes direction. Really getting
into the spirit of things, we hand-steered, did a lot of tacking, and ho-hummed
our way through the calms. We went so slowly that often, though we knew
we were moving by the bubbles in the water, we were still registering zero on
the knot meter. </div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-6936626524690091172017-11-30T09:47:00.000-05:002017-11-30T09:47:11.977-05:001985 (9) – The Lighthouse Keeper<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAvtu7MhXAjyIUX1kwCOtOMp0gKOITrp4sl-W6udE_V3xeZxeUY21CNinuc_gHptNsuYDyn3UPBGGiJq2X2DRZV31pQq58fuXcoFr2Yy07ULQXQNx6cxIhHX7LaggjoByhsN9fqH-0NY/s1600/TM_atAnchor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1066" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAvtu7MhXAjyIUX1kwCOtOMp0gKOITrp4sl-W6udE_V3xeZxeUY21CNinuc_gHptNsuYDyn3UPBGGiJq2X2DRZV31pQq58fuXcoFr2Yy07ULQXQNx6cxIhHX7LaggjoByhsN9fqH-0NY/s320/TM_atAnchor.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tropic Moon at anchor, Isla Conejera.<br />The island of Ibiza is visible in the background.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A less
pleasant aspect of cruising was keeping up with the boat maintenance. Our
topsides paint had suffered grievously over the winter from oil spills in the
Gibraltar harbor, chafing fenders when we were sandwiched in between other
boats, and the occasional rude encounter with a marina dock. We decided
to repaint the white hull while at anchor in our peaceful cove. Ed spent
one day cleaning and sanding the hull, and epoxying over a few of the scars.
Unfortunately, on the following day when we were ready to paint, our cove was
less than peaceful. The wind had
shifted, and Tropic Moon was rolling in response to a gentle swell. After
setting a stern anchor, Ed and I climbed into the dinghy. With me hanging on to the cap rail as the
dinghy rose and fell, Ed proceeded to paint his way around the hull. He
had some competition from the swells as to who would wet the waterline
first. Occasionally, when Ed was the winner,
a wave would then come along and playfully wash off some of the new paint.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QWbZuiTMBpq3aPnpBBu7EsluEqRE4J4hVdNRPXrUS6fiHNjtptVsyqW-_BNL8O7zrSui2OLcngwmOoHk8pn-iuMBPzGuyhq6EdtYoPrA08MHaLvPd5qXcT9fxqQRe-d5wvC3x2XrgCA/s1600/ConejeraIbiza_03_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1443" data-original-width="965" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QWbZuiTMBpq3aPnpBBu7EsluEqRE4J4hVdNRPXrUS6fiHNjtptVsyqW-_BNL8O7zrSui2OLcngwmOoHk8pn-iuMBPzGuyhq6EdtYoPrA08MHaLvPd5qXcT9fxqQRe-d5wvC3x2XrgCA/s320/ConejeraIbiza_03_new.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The lighthouse, visible on the top of the promontory.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We were
anchored near the middle of Isla Conejera, while the lighthouse was located at
the northern end. Before our hike up to the lighthouse, (which we found
deserted), we had enjoyed some interesting speculation about the keeper of the
light. It was Ed's opinion that the keeper was locked away up there in
the tower. Ed mentioned his possible
presence when we took to sunbathing nude on the deck. I couldn't believe
that anyone would be living in the lighthouse when there wasn't even another
boat at the island. I chose to elect a
man as keeper when he showed up in a small boat, and then disappeared for a
time. Ed took him to be a fisherman. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9nhPlvw2tkXDV5xCZPjkiHb2_ZOmTHh6qCC9xYk7KFdi_-EP4EBWRKqEWimgORDn0MNmPkiI78Uw86lBMfPCNvzn6reCX88VcmKXk52k5BEakWcJVstVUUk9iKEUR93TB6dKQQU2zPo/s1600/Ibiza_06_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1249" data-original-width="1137" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9nhPlvw2tkXDV5xCZPjkiHb2_ZOmTHh6qCC9xYk7KFdi_-EP4EBWRKqEWimgORDn0MNmPkiI78Uw86lBMfPCNvzn6reCX88VcmKXk52k5BEakWcJVstVUUk9iKEUR93TB6dKQQU2zPo/s320/Ibiza_06_new.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A beautiful stone wall.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I then
elected a second man, who came in a powerboat with his family, which he moored
at the landing dock. He also disappeared (he was probably napping on the
boat), while an older woman, robed in a somber black dress, stood atop a rocky
abutment, and wielded a fishing rod with considerable success. (I watched
her catch fish while she watched us paint the boat.) Two younger women in
bikinis were sunning themselves, and keeping an eye on a couple of youngsters,
while a frisky black dog gamboled about the cliffs, no doubt bringing terror to
the resident lizard population, and consternation to the sea gulls attempting
to sun themselves in peace.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmR6qI0kQsTjDvjexK-rczaTLHUEuu2oXlPlDo3TqG9Z1bj8aQIvEcX4A_iz4UyTSIIW97twliIOPeBLWDqjKdp633a-ILO0_HWbMBVuENdRXDdd0zCzEfQleBg2vmf9-XCIllDtETuTM/s1600/Ibiza_07_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1547" data-original-width="1118" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmR6qI0kQsTjDvjexK-rczaTLHUEuu2oXlPlDo3TqG9Z1bj8aQIvEcX4A_iz4UyTSIIW97twliIOPeBLWDqjKdp633a-ILO0_HWbMBVuENdRXDdd0zCzEfQleBg2vmf9-XCIllDtETuTM/s320/Ibiza_07_new.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">At the lighthouse.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Conejera may translate to
"rabbit-warren," but it was lizards we saw everywhere, and nary a
rabbit in sight. The lizards scurried from rock to rock, most of
them colored in a drab gray-green to blend in with the landscape, while others were arrayed in intense blue-greens, appearing iridescent in the bright
sunlight. There seemed to be almost as many seagulls as lizards. I remember one particular gull that, unlike
his friends, didn't fly off at my approach, and who seemed unconcerned by the
loud-sounding snaps on my camera case that broke the quiet when I opened
it. The gull appeared to straighten his neck, and then stared straight
ahead at the camera. I wanted a shot of the gull turned sideways, and
madly waved one arm in the air. I didn't expect the gull to understand
what I wanted, but I thought my actions might cause him to prepare for
flight. He was having none of it, and insisted on posing stiff-necked,
face forward, until I had taken his picture.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNd48auEwrOSzI2H6Bj-kPXXyAKyCQol-SWbxfy7oCNrirqDUsHkCw8VPcNN1c8kfpNkMMuEzGdzSN703-HBZujUVfm0ckaopVx1bxcbMCWkJb-pDW6U8DilG7iqpTVuKWXBUCN-094A/s1600/ConejeraIbiza_05_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1384" data-original-width="940" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNd48auEwrOSzI2H6Bj-kPXXyAKyCQol-SWbxfy7oCNrirqDUsHkCw8VPcNN1c8kfpNkMMuEzGdzSN703-HBZujUVfm0ckaopVx1bxcbMCWkJb-pDW6U8DilG7iqpTVuKWXBUCN-094A/s320/ConejeraIbiza_05_new.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My seagull...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-45452851992483509862017-11-29T15:38:00.000-05:002017-11-29T15:38:13.774-05:001985 (8) - Isla Conejera<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpOabxv6Pa8zS-izLcin7lE6FuRp-1NtzcJWDW3zLeCma8OLD3HGimXU6cmOTfoMJRENZydwOnM2QSojTP-g3JrUrY-LDvZYzxt2mac_BJV-2eXhvE6gI5vEJ2s6xzQsbe8Ld9_Jw5Ww/s1600/Ibiza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1172" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpOabxv6Pa8zS-izLcin7lE6FuRp-1NtzcJWDW3zLeCma8OLD3HGimXU6cmOTfoMJRENZydwOnM2QSojTP-g3JrUrY-LDvZYzxt2mac_BJV-2eXhvE6gI5vEJ2s6xzQsbe8Ld9_Jw5Ww/s320/Ibiza.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Postcard from Ibiza, Spain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before
traveling to the Balearic Islands, we had spent five months wintering in the
hustle and bustle of Gibraltar, and then cruised to some of the
tourist-oriented marinas along the Costa del Sol. Tired of mooring
lines and fenders, we left the Spanish mainland to make our two-day sail from
Almerimar to the island of Ibiza. After putting in at a deserted cove on
Ibiza's southern shore, where we swung at anchor for several peaceful days, we
headed up the western coast of Ibiza, making our way to San Antonio, and fresh
bread, fruits and vegetables. Perhaps a reluctance to return to
civilization kept us out of the city for one more night. We put in at Isla Conejera, which had a large,
lovely bay on its eastern coast. Spending one day there was nowhere near
enough. After restocking the larder in
San Antonio, we returned to the little cove tucked into the northern part of
Conejera's anchorage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSe-J0g8Na7RS2rJb0om-MW4O6l93qs6L3h_uVFikGRYT1AQuKJ7OYo-2EXaDntnAEAg1jQj7cx5An24aetyXzG8Ji_PO0-ygzjYmPan12K6z3dOQsyUGTbTPuqDwS-6BlCPnasbDq8hM/s1600/ConejeraIbiza_02_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1528" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSe-J0g8Na7RS2rJb0om-MW4O6l93qs6L3h_uVFikGRYT1AQuKJ7OYo-2EXaDntnAEAg1jQj7cx5An24aetyXzG8Ji_PO0-ygzjYmPan12K6z3dOQsyUGTbTPuqDwS-6BlCPnasbDq8hM/s400/ConejeraIbiza_02_new.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tropic Moon at anchor, Isla Conejera</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Conejera
was a small island, about a mile in length, located just outside the harbor of
San Antonio, on the western coast of Ibiza, about fifty miles east of the
Spanish mainland. As far as civilization was concerned, the island
boasted only a lighthouse, and a small landing dock overlooked by a cinderblock
garage housing the lighthouse keeper's truck.
A gravel road connected the garage and the lighthouse, covering about
half the island, and climbing the hill to the lighthouse in a series of
meandering zigzags.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LZixpONIUbsvVTRDy8gu-1VF5kx37jcwnR0qo9ILxSDsCG1pWJIxCDnEP4dz58uIubYKZ1DGnsdpER41jc6N4Ph9KpVvju0YS7ZfAjpGyBR2jFcJ38HOlhF4OR_4vV64qieQPUmNe_o/s1600/ConejeraIbiza_04_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1094" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LZixpONIUbsvVTRDy8gu-1VF5kx37jcwnR0qo9ILxSDsCG1pWJIxCDnEP4dz58uIubYKZ1DGnsdpER41jc6N4Ph9KpVvju0YS7ZfAjpGyBR2jFcJ38HOlhF4OR_4vV64qieQPUmNe_o/s320/ConejeraIbiza_04_new.jpg" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our dinghy, sitting at the landing dock.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
island of the conjurer? That's how I chose to think of it until I looked
up the word "conejera" in my Spanish-English dictionary and found it
to mean "rabbit-warren." Despite the evidence of the printed
word, the island was still a magician for me, conjuring up memories of some of
our favorite cruising days. An
uninhabited island, a lovely rock-bound cove, and a peace and solitude seldom
interrupted by visitors, brought comparisons to mind with Harbor Island, south
of Stonington, Maine, and Great Bird Island, off the northeast coast of Antigua
in the Caribbean. While the vegetation varied from the wild succulents
and cacti of Great Bird Island, to the pine forests and purple lupine of Maine,
with a middle ground found in the junipers and arid, rocky soil of Conejera,
the similarities far outweighed the differences. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DOGP9ZYXEBjIqa1lntARmr81_Uj7fq3-JCW7wXfk_eroCaGQazkf7AtXkmmce-43R6a4XVJGmfoT_0A_9nEg2gPllfriIt459Qh49Vd2bLJBmSBRDJImu633hPZtCwWIP2nltPPsYmQ/s1600/ConejeraIbiza_06_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1071" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DOGP9ZYXEBjIqa1lntARmr81_Uj7fq3-JCW7wXfk_eroCaGQazkf7AtXkmmce-43R6a4XVJGmfoT_0A_9nEg2gPllfriIt459Qh49Vd2bLJBmSBRDJImu633hPZtCwWIP2nltPPsYmQ/s320/ConejeraIbiza_06_new.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Isla Conejera. On a hike.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There
was, firstly, one of the greatest pleasures of cruising - finding a little
corner of the world all to ourselves. Of being able to enjoy not only the
sights, but also the sounds and voices of nature - lapping waves, calling
gulls, whistling breezes, rustling leaves and chirping insects. We were
also in a place that seemed bound by no nationality. A sign in Spanish
reminding visitors that it was forbidden to light fires on the island was the
only indication that Conejera was a part of Spain. Nor did Great Bird Island
strike one as a British domain, or Harbor Island seem particularly
American. It was a pleasure to know there were still places in the world
where politics didn't intrude.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1OAT5_2BwK88eB3JWtc997Mnq95rVHjkiX0OGiFZFG7MT2xZuOyjupgp7ObAXmAqoS1OvCa_KfQhnrOEb2JBcA5MkI3Do4IjCti3zXjl6BC80kX_QI2PS5PyStkIhNeHg0ZFnzSaAig/s1600/Ibiza_01_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1093" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1OAT5_2BwK88eB3JWtc997Mnq95rVHjkiX0OGiFZFG7MT2xZuOyjupgp7ObAXmAqoS1OvCa_KfQhnrOEb2JBcA5MkI3Do4IjCti3zXjl6BC80kX_QI2PS5PyStkIhNeHg0ZFnzSaAig/s320/Ibiza_01_new.jpg" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Isla Conejera, Spain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Was there a magician on
Conejera? If so, perhaps he was living in the old stone well perched on
the hilltop near the lighthouse. When I peered into the well's seemingly
bottomless depths, I saw my reflection mirrored back at me. When I called to Ed to come over, my voice
echoed loudly in the cavern. I dropped a coin into the well, and made a
wish for a future of cruising with many more special anchorages like Isla
Conejera.Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-52674131695680750582017-11-27T08:36:00.000-05:002017-11-27T08:36:52.448-05:001985 (7) - The Balearic Islands<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv0wFnNjP6MvKGWlAvMtvS4qs-HiSnPt8_Dkls8kVL072TP05VjAe1-R5ZeQbeFziBGPc8uLEScv5uWhqvDHtH-NOGHhzZyj2kFpumJ5onuSZOX8G0gu-jRv2f9eEi58v8znyRghBqwj4/s1600/Mermaid_detail1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv0wFnNjP6MvKGWlAvMtvS4qs-HiSnPt8_Dkls8kVL072TP05VjAe1-R5ZeQbeFziBGPc8uLEScv5uWhqvDHtH-NOGHhzZyj2kFpumJ5onuSZOX8G0gu-jRv2f9eEi58v8znyRghBqwj4/s320/Mermaid_detail1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mermaid. An art quilt. 20" x 16" Detail</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In
mid-May we did an overnight passage from Almeria, on the Costa del Sol, to the
beautiful Spanish islands of the Balearics: Majorca, Menorca, Ibiza, and
Formentera. When we left Almerimar, we had a 250-mile sail to Ibiza,
which took us fifty hours. During that trip we were able to sail about
one-third of the time, motor about a third, and motor sail, when the wind
wasn't quite strong enough to do the trick, for the remaining third. As
the wind came and went, the sails went up and down quite a few times. We
left the steering to the autopilot. We
were free to watch or sleep or read as we pleased, with one of us keeping an
eye out for other shipping. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwj0yu7h-oilNWsnREjtIH0tk6vtzx5JJfp-TqMLRs-saQc4aPDn27RZXIskAfHRFWEMwVIZ1RLLIdDJGkyh2dnS_fv1co4jGm-dkSxprgyxD9tmVCf9xln9F6W-NtMbAYE77WC84K6zo/s1600/Mermaid_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="683" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwj0yu7h-oilNWsnREjtIH0tk6vtzx5JJfp-TqMLRs-saQc4aPDn27RZXIskAfHRFWEMwVIZ1RLLIdDJGkyh2dnS_fv1co4jGm-dkSxprgyxD9tmVCf9xln9F6W-NtMbAYE77WC84K6zo/s400/Mermaid_full.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mermaid. An art quilt. 20" x 16"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ed and
I kept our regular watches. One of
mine was from midnight to 4:00 a.m. On the second night of the trip, I
was nearing the end of my night watch.
The wind was gradually dying yet again. Only the jib sail was
still up, but I hesitated going forward on the rolling foredeck to take it down
by myself, preferring to wait for Ed's assistance. I called him fifteen
minutes early. He came on deck, took
down the sail, and we started the engine. While up forward, Ed noticed
several dolphins playing around the bow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomR9YfGzZAgqeS0imaa5B9muEap3XW41hzSu5DsuuUQUHO6SMMWv0OGiBNjhTwuLmLzUFHYsmPCIfSXh5WZAiUIX5WhzPfpqXnSEzXXmnW6hnW48PRtbsnOzsnNJGgqwj78PLdgZmykE/s1600/Mermaid_detail2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomR9YfGzZAgqeS0imaa5B9muEap3XW41hzSu5DsuuUQUHO6SMMWv0OGiBNjhTwuLmLzUFHYsmPCIfSXh5WZAiUIX5WhzPfpqXnSEzXXmnW6hnW48PRtbsnOzsnNJGgqwj78PLdgZmykE/s320/Mermaid_detail2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mermaid. An art quilt. 20" x 16" Detail</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though
it was quite dark, the dolphins were plainly visible. Their movements through the water generated phosphorescence,
giving them the appearance of silver torpedoes streaking through the sea.
Starting the engine didn't disturb them - they seemed enlivened by Tropic
Moon's movement, porpoising through the water alongside the prow, and diving
back and forth under the boat, through the phosphorescent bow wave generated by
Tropic Moon's passage. Though only a few minutes before I had been on the
verge of falling asleep, I was now fully awake. I watched the beautiful silvered dolphins at play until common
sense finally took me below to my bed. </div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-59177219931816388122017-11-24T09:43:00.001-05:002017-11-24T09:43:42.202-05:001985 (6) - Man-Overboard Drill<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9lBN_twjP2XnD4jxGT0i_Cc0RIrIdZsdpMpULl6mRjBjiuRGm0ZKEceWkuXiCL4JSJhRQGu4S-TUI68mGPUYVXljVeF9i0Yr1fC1BiB-vvuEW5UZc9_q8y9if9kgr4d8QgEqRS3Up5U/s1600/MM-051_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="1600" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9lBN_twjP2XnD4jxGT0i_Cc0RIrIdZsdpMpULl6mRjBjiuRGm0ZKEceWkuXiCL4JSJhRQGu4S-TUI68mGPUYVXljVeF9i0Yr1fC1BiB-vvuEW5UZc9_q8y9if9kgr4d8QgEqRS3Up5U/s320/MM-051_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alcohol Ink Paintings on Yupo Paper.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"><br />To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_4OkQXjasHvOJvVigGN8OdQSFfgh8BauH8Vy9-r6AgIbJkmJnSdHk_YPD6TeBks6jnIGoVG8Qs6553sL4GB6_UYYGO8URIBd8aK9OjjilEr4hz1sknfvmf8_532HpfqfDUoGo0PVxAw/s1600/MM_007_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_4OkQXjasHvOJvVigGN8OdQSFfgh8BauH8Vy9-r6AgIbJkmJnSdHk_YPD6TeBks6jnIGoVG8Qs6553sL4GB6_UYYGO8URIBd8aK9OjjilEr4hz1sknfvmf8_532HpfqfDUoGo0PVxAw/s320/MM_007_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While in
Almerimar, we met John and Trisha, from British Columbia, who were living on
their sailboat, Satellite. The day after we met them, friends of theirs,
Lydia and Dennis, arrived from Canada to do some sailing on
Satellite. The six of us got into an interesting discussion on one
of the hazards of boating - falling overboard. Trisha had an almost
pathological fear that if John were to fall overboard, she wouldn't be able to
get him back on the boat. Her fear had grown to such proportions that she
wouldn't do even a day sail if she and John were alone.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxV2vgZVMH0dGrSpmd-lPnSiFJaD059VMV3phORL44Lz7wtK_XixB08QfzEjiD3eZsyUfcEP41XU5Pcya4kFavnHCaRCE_vKtM6jVstxYI0jtjeQZeXQMqZ4LeZ7pyLFxWQJW9qwu0o4Q/s1600/MM-034_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxV2vgZVMH0dGrSpmd-lPnSiFJaD059VMV3phORL44Lz7wtK_XixB08QfzEjiD3eZsyUfcEP41XU5Pcya4kFavnHCaRCE_vKtM6jVstxYI0jtjeQZeXQMqZ4LeZ7pyLFxWQJW9qwu0o4Q/s320/MM-034_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John and
Trish had recently invested in an interesting harness contraption, which would
be thrown overboard if someone fell into the sea. The harness
was at the end of a long rope. The
theory was that you would use your boat to circle the person in the water until
they were able to reach the floating harness. Then there was a pulley
system, attached to a winch, so the person could be winched back on
board. I didn't think it would serve any purpose to point out that this
method presupposed that the person in the water was still conscious, and
capable of getting into the harness. Or to mention our belief that the
most likely time for one of us to fall overboard was when the other person was
off watch, and asleep below, so there wouldn't be anyone on deck to throw
the harness over in the first place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJrtb0BXnC8wN6KoEKuliijUYiWU0giw2Sgk5JMRcF_O4RejdbZ8T_dj7BJ-8ySc1kGjA4ubupocmt5Xq6yf484uJUeUrGvbkuILS1eRJxLicdSkUjUgmoqKBsR9kF9kQ1yyTe5vmdo/s1600/MM-020_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1095" data-original-width="1600" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJrtb0BXnC8wN6KoEKuliijUYiWU0giw2Sgk5JMRcF_O4RejdbZ8T_dj7BJ-8ySc1kGjA4ubupocmt5Xq6yf484uJUeUrGvbkuILS1eRJxLicdSkUjUgmoqKBsR9kF9kQ1yyTe5vmdo/s320/MM-020_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John and
Trish had raised four children, and had always been involved in
boating. Trish told me they had done man-overboard drills with
the children. Proving that I'd never been a mother, I foolishly asked,
"Did you throw one of the kids over?" That gave Trish a
moment's pause, but she recovered quickly and said that, no, they had used
a boat cushion. Dennis and Lydia had taken sailing classes at their local
yacht club, including practice in rescuing inanimate objects. They were
surprised to hear that in all our years of cruising, we had never done a
man-overboard drill. Quite frankly, who wants to risk losing a boat
cushion?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZIcp1jgnuKZd6xoRKcyzoUj8uV5uqqvaa02RfzwXwXPJeZySR0zshCdHcmZ-B3OnZ0F2a16CICXoi3DMIzMPAWXtv_frQ1XU1ZtEQnznBTFsHH57Vg88caA0zSZgyN5LLssBCWVAWLs/s1600/MM-047_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="717" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZIcp1jgnuKZd6xoRKcyzoUj8uV5uqqvaa02RfzwXwXPJeZySR0zshCdHcmZ-B3OnZ0F2a16CICXoi3DMIzMPAWXtv_frQ1XU1ZtEQnznBTFsHH57Vg88caA0zSZgyN5LLssBCWVAWLs/s320/MM-047_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-36014990135019104922017-11-23T09:49:00.000-05:002017-11-23T09:49:00.566-05:001985 (5) - Granada and The Alhambra<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3_dM7wYcgI3LDIl-9BE54UU7YMYhMY8GaUjnxOLbaoE7JGtSLE_9qmVc4LGg7MUEZVKAybHvaiyCTusEP1Z1frbR1geYGyskIerOlzHhjwN9el_MHCt5WKsew2xP6BbtaSQaDVfFiGc/s1600/Granada_13_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="979" data-original-width="1600" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3_dM7wYcgI3LDIl-9BE54UU7YMYhMY8GaUjnxOLbaoE7JGtSLE_9qmVc4LGg7MUEZVKAybHvaiyCTusEP1Z1frbR1geYGyskIerOlzHhjwN9el_MHCt5WKsew2xP6BbtaSQaDVfFiGc/s400/Granada_13_new.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Alhambra, Granada, Spain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For us,
Granada was the main point of the trip.
Our three days there turned out to be well worth the wait. Located
in a mountainous region of great beauty, the lands, which once attracted
Moorish sultans, now beckon skiers who flock to the popular resorts of the
nearby Sierra Nevada. But the true attraction of Granada is the Alhambra,
a palatine city that stands on a hill above Granada like an Acropolis, defended
by a series of towers and walls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMV_X1VXZeXU4krofWhPioeFCYPupJa7vakKThcehUtgyCBBH3v7RnOubTGGwZmyHMN7BKRBtn6WGBBEjaNfatAfXLbs2YKXnxHaIKhQ_sXJMTa5dtxAz8wUZEODCXREeu_Y0atNZJDQ/s1600/Granada_19_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1104" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMV_X1VXZeXU4krofWhPioeFCYPupJa7vakKThcehUtgyCBBH3v7RnOubTGGwZmyHMN7BKRBtn6WGBBEjaNfatAfXLbs2YKXnxHaIKhQ_sXJMTa5dtxAz8wUZEODCXREeu_Y0atNZJDQ/s320/Granada_19_new.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
***<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwi-l8hdF760OZTQTc8r-9wJ7lXF1eSrEEnLRlzF-h9pwvkUfyduhujLg9EIJCLT03sJOyR5vN7lx5JJXrQwccUY4TFo4403rG8JOkk-gW0YTwbCpbUb78lRVT51H9GJm7e13IhMOJbPU/s1600/Granada_16_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1177" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwi-l8hdF760OZTQTc8r-9wJ7lXF1eSrEEnLRlzF-h9pwvkUfyduhujLg9EIJCLT03sJOyR5vN7lx5JJXrQwccUY4TFo4403rG8JOkk-gW0YTwbCpbUb78lRVT51H9GJm7e13IhMOJbPU/s320/Granada_16_new.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">C'mon, Ed. Smile! It won't kill you....</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cumulative
history was evident at the Alhambra, starting with a military fortress
from the 9th century, and beautiful palaces built by the sultans of the Muslim
dynasty, which ran from the 13th to the 15th centuries. When Ferdinand
and Isabella, Spain's first Catholic rulers, defeated the Moors, they moved
into the Moorish palaces, combined them, and built chapels and the like.
When Charles V came along in 1526, he found the facade too unimposing
for his tastes, and added a rather incongruous Renaissance palace. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcgY4hnwq_b7d12z6DPzARSoZGy17qWWZbuzmGKWsfiucEHzfiuzEczY9ohJ-NLOZ7idosVd25Ys1lVL9c-Xr70f26BpOnFcXKHdeO5jj3PKcEd5YAnOYU6vQHjot6Uef1wN7QqV8uk0/s1600/Granada_35_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1237" data-original-width="1117" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcgY4hnwq_b7d12z6DPzARSoZGy17qWWZbuzmGKWsfiucEHzfiuzEczY9ohJ-NLOZ7idosVd25Ys1lVL9c-Xr70f26BpOnFcXKHdeO5jj3PKcEd5YAnOYU6vQHjot6Uef1wN7QqV8uk0/s400/Granada_35_new.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Courtyard of the Lions is the main courtyard of the Nasrid dynasty <br />Palace of the Lions, in the heart of the Alhambra, the Moorish citadel <br />formed by a complex of palaces, gardens and forts in Granada, Spain.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6B7WJ9RiqfMQTXcEjLBIE4v3R7tGbqWZ3ut-fbrts_nJNFlYuoC9ZyEzS6mvTVBZ3aK5925abhpYEwypuMDor6SJ7SZJ3JS_SnzIiTwNRxMRrE98B1WPKGbjhezsKOLWa7K3duDlp0GY/s1600/Granada_32_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1586" data-original-width="1177" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6B7WJ9RiqfMQTXcEjLBIE4v3R7tGbqWZ3ut-fbrts_nJNFlYuoC9ZyEzS6mvTVBZ3aK5925abhpYEwypuMDor6SJ7SZJ3JS_SnzIiTwNRxMRrE98B1WPKGbjhezsKOLWa7K3duDlp0GY/s320/Granada_32_new.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it
was the Moorish influence that dominated, with pillars, arched gates and
passageways, and lovely stucco artwork in intricate geometric patterns covering
the interior walls. Gardens of great beauty, courtyards with reflecting
pools and spraying fountains, surrounded by masses of blooming roses greeted
the eye at every turn, and enhanced the view from every window. While we
had a lot of competition from tour groups while we were viewing the palace, by
late afternoon things had quieted down considerably. We did a little peaceful contemplation in the rose gardens of the
Generalife, with the snow-capped Sierra Nevada peaks ranged behind us, and the
city of Granada, the view framed by arches and palm trees, nestled below. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iHFc56lQUW929erEBHpgm9OwBkPso5PdGFbFxh1dQOtGRs_P1CqutkuDTrxrSBRHNqXPhrxQdJy1jwnbR7Hm-2nn5PUFtenm28Pkfn6P129BEmUuFf_rVwUA3EDFnr4PdLNGzrtZkto/s1600/Granada_31_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1054" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iHFc56lQUW929erEBHpgm9OwBkPso5PdGFbFxh1dQOtGRs_P1CqutkuDTrxrSBRHNqXPhrxQdJy1jwnbR7Hm-2nn5PUFtenm28Pkfn6P129BEmUuFf_rVwUA3EDFnr4PdLNGzrtZkto/s320/Granada_31_new.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSP8TULbtEfwdfZhIJUmxjnyP73ix2qHs4Y5WTgBxp9lsGbBSHiuV3HL-CATsZnpopDcGmCLvhy57DoVKlP_ZrNd5tKpWadB2Icm8onFkAJnBHOse4ZAqsOwedrDCNYs-9af7AdoRO0Pw/s1600/Granada_25_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1260" data-original-width="1107" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSP8TULbtEfwdfZhIJUmxjnyP73ix2qHs4Y5WTgBxp9lsGbBSHiuV3HL-CATsZnpopDcGmCLvhy57DoVKlP_ZrNd5tKpWadB2Icm8onFkAJnBHOse4ZAqsOwedrDCNYs-9af7AdoRO0Pw/s320/Granada_25_new.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
our time in Granada, a bus ride returned us to Almerimar and Tropic Moon.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuGiN7sL7PMdPzLfYRliqQ0FIAcC6NwIkVgq9JaPTkuQxG95AuORM1iWCm03m0Cve6PlD0gEH6R_OXb423crNOp9iXnbWVHDAeHM1kgiCUkgUoiLjNC37z3g2i5dtmQDG2WQitca31W0/s1600/Granada_39_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1114" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuGiN7sL7PMdPzLfYRliqQ0FIAcC6NwIkVgq9JaPTkuQxG95AuORM1iWCm03m0Cve6PlD0gEH6R_OXb423crNOp9iXnbWVHDAeHM1kgiCUkgUoiLjNC37z3g2i5dtmQDG2WQitca31W0/s320/Granada_39_new.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3wpF6uYAuFqeHVyHIMk6tmqQ7Ni96dbxTZCBIWiW_eSfSLal565haR2E-AfdHOcyVxOYsVpNSEfyc1CiVxSl-GmUf0sc3novaByonyIBh7uqGus7P-Ldg_PLPy2r_cEZzafPvaXxqOc/s1600/Granada_22_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1447" data-original-width="1099" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3wpF6uYAuFqeHVyHIMk6tmqQ7Ni96dbxTZCBIWiW_eSfSLal565haR2E-AfdHOcyVxOYsVpNSEfyc1CiVxSl-GmUf0sc3novaByonyIBh7uqGus7P-Ldg_PLPy2r_cEZzafPvaXxqOc/s320/Granada_22_new.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bu_gfC0GOhYgMi9YytuLnJRiJHeTQgajLf1HW4KULqpI-zutnDPbmB9K4dBf5hx34GBXNWbjwXgxr_9CKj5K3U-cXoF-R6PM0yiU-8KDg2x9vyM3pRPqVGMr2SYfJ3hhLFfPz-B64OY/s1600/Granada_40_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="836" data-original-width="1600" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bu_gfC0GOhYgMi9YytuLnJRiJHeTQgajLf1HW4KULqpI-zutnDPbmB9K4dBf5hx34GBXNWbjwXgxr_9CKj5K3U-cXoF-R6PM0yiU-8KDg2x9vyM3pRPqVGMr2SYfJ3hhLFfPz-B64OY/s400/Granada_40_new.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-75843208134092948162017-11-22T10:56:00.000-05:002017-11-22T10:56:08.275-05:001985 (4) - Madrid<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCmon-GT4Bdp6RT_mqPJzqTIArVGRyyuIMveBA6lA9Iauoh2s9mTXsg9a_CfxbSStXwFt0dix8AAWXUqI600to68qUtaxkGFTujuWB2lIDN2d8fgoXiKIiLUH_3glVS3e8Ai9r9SLamc/s1600/PradoMuseum_72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCmon-GT4Bdp6RT_mqPJzqTIArVGRyyuIMveBA6lA9Iauoh2s9mTXsg9a_CfxbSStXwFt0dix8AAWXUqI600to68qUtaxkGFTujuWB2lIDN2d8fgoXiKIiLUH_3glVS3e8Ai9r9SLamc/s320/PradoMuseum_72.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the
end of our stay in Toledo, Frank and Marie Anne headed south again; while Ed
and I took a short train ride on to Madrid. We spent our first full day
in Madrid at the Prado, the national art museum, visually feasting on the work
of Spain's most famous masters: Velazquez, Goya and El Greco. The
day was a lesson in history, as well as art, as we followed the line of
succession to the Spanish throne through the work of Spain's great
artists. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDsE-82T4YxAly67cdbQUlR9j8dRNJXNEx49ufjL6J0qqFJu803jRmiYxsc3Id-aS9vAprUhd1vy6J-sNCJzFvqKEoxRrOKbgIWFFO3fFq_QKfYAp4L7CGNCUx4mTyWL90hrn0Zh63ns/s1600/RoyalTapestryFactory4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="980" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDsE-82T4YxAly67cdbQUlR9j8dRNJXNEx49ufjL6J0qqFJu803jRmiYxsc3Id-aS9vAprUhd1vy6J-sNCJzFvqKEoxRrOKbgIWFFO3fFq_QKfYAp4L7CGNCUx4mTyWL90hrn0Zh63ns/s400/RoyalTapestryFactory4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Royal Tapestry Factory. Note the<br />beautiful tapestry in the background.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A
guidebook we had read spoke about the existence of a Royal Tapestry
Factory, where Goya had worked in the late 1700's. There,
he designed many of the paintings that were still used as weaving
cartoons. From the cartoons, the picture was traced onto the warp on the
loom, and then the cartoon was used as a guide for the colors as the
tapestry was woven. The original paintings that Goya did while employed
at the Tapestry Factory occupied several rooms of the Prado. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRh9lJj2JavnoBzMHBvOmM430nPsiyv0sDH5vpncsPCebOyUxAO2HN9mnSmkQxaEQpsu3hVw1VgO2qhe1Hd1QLZYdvlIag7pFgaG7k6XlvKBIbUx61ANBYXlPQulJZawaxKjSufV8s-wo/s1600/RoyalTapestryFactory2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="644" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRh9lJj2JavnoBzMHBvOmM430nPsiyv0sDH5vpncsPCebOyUxAO2HN9mnSmkQxaEQpsu3hVw1VgO2qhe1Hd1QLZYdvlIag7pFgaG7k6XlvKBIbUx61ANBYXlPQulJZawaxKjSufV8s-wo/s400/RoyalTapestryFactory2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. We only saw men weaving on our visit.<br />They obviously employ women now.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
following morning, we navigated our way by foot and map to another part of the
city. After a bit of searching, we
found the Royal Tapestry Factory. There were many similarities to the use of traditional techniques employed at the sword factory of Toledo; the wall hangings were still woven by hand on
upright tapestry looms. The looms
looked like they had been in service for several centuries. They were
about eight feet wide. Up to three men
(we saw no women), would sit behind a loom, weaving with a speed that was
difficult to follow. We stood before the looms, entranced, watching the
development of brightly colored, highly detailed tapestries of some of the very
designs we’d seen the day before in the Goya halls of the Prado
Museum. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQkutO3IJ15IRhMHavqtd7w3hMqGhS8QPeyn1E9mwQJCFDZcbm6gZzxV_979GS-lZLkMYBgHb6mtuNcCU5o8yl3yot6rMSwe1kLebSH3NvkddxJK29zyeMHglzxi2ePDPc1wtJEXatOs/s1600/PalaceDiningRoom_2_72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQkutO3IJ15IRhMHavqtd7w3hMqGhS8QPeyn1E9mwQJCFDZcbm6gZzxV_979GS-lZLkMYBgHb6mtuNcCU5o8yl3yot6rMSwe1kLebSH3NvkddxJK29zyeMHglzxi2ePDPc1wtJEXatOs/s320/PalaceDiningRoom_2_72.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Dining Room at the Royal Palace, Madrid.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That
afternoon we visited the Royal Palace, no longer the residence of the royal
family, who lived in a "suburban" palace, but now a museum open to the
public. Of the 2,800 rooms in the palace, we toured 45. Every room seemed more ornate than the one
preceding it. The palace defied description, especially by my feeble
efforts. Suffice it to say, the
opulence was beyond anything I had ever imagined. We saw the dining room
with a table that seated 145. The room had fifteen chandeliers (I counted
them). The walls in many of the rooms were hung with beautiful
tapestries, some Flemish in origin, but many "home town" products,
woven a couple centuries earlier at the Royal Tapestry
Factory. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8TUHTkjzbNGD4sDFRsTELJ7XLq46zgXSNPh2oeWfzycBTOB2VNpYBXrNZ7tmAiLuKWuiuzjqNvbjZI2E_Ev_1Zw03-zPC2JaQKvXTLD2dKCdygE_kpCD-UE5rBddEA9T_IIV-mdt-y0/s1600/MadridSpainDisplayOfTapas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="624" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8TUHTkjzbNGD4sDFRsTELJ7XLq46zgXSNPh2oeWfzycBTOB2VNpYBXrNZ7tmAiLuKWuiuzjqNvbjZI2E_Ev_1Zw03-zPC2JaQKvXTLD2dKCdygE_kpCD-UE5rBddEA9T_IIV-mdt-y0/s320/MadridSpainDisplayOfTapas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Display of Tapas. Madrid, Spain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the
evenings we would wander the streets of Madrid, a city of dark, bulky, brooding
buildings. We didn't find it as pretty as Lisbon but, like any place, it
had its own charm. We saw a lot of the city while waiting for the dinner
hour - never before 8:30 p.m. - and if you wanted to be Spanish, you'd starve till 10:00 p.m. Or, far more likely, you'd visit one of the many
bars, and sample the "tapas" (bar snacks), which ranged from olives
and omelets to baby eels and pickled tripe! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On our
last night in Madrid, we boarded an express train at 10:30 p.m., and settled in
our comfortable private compartment for the overnight ride south to Granada.
We had a sleeper compartment with two berths, a sink, and a cute little chamber
pot. We spent the first hour mesmerized by the passing countryside, slept
well to the train's motion (good experience from Tropic Moon), and switched
bunks in the middle of the night so we each got a turn at the upper.
First class all the way - the train slowed down during the night so passengers
wouldn't arrive in Granada at some ungodly hour. Each compartment was called on the telephone to give
people a half hour's notice before the train's 8:00 a.m. arrival. </div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-44964828661784706562017-11-21T10:46:00.000-05:002017-11-21T10:46:58.736-05:001985 (3) – Toledo, Spain<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuD5Zhvpw3uW7ZuS5eSlRIdXi4hiUASVqJvjecz2msonJw2uQtnnBQIJdvvwm1IWm9VagYmoCgGpQ1id-yuP3b5cWKaC90iicnYkZkce0nCbiZ_wRSv6MzgohDPaZHhMoobq1A_oOPLg/s1600/Toledo_05_use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="1600" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuD5Zhvpw3uW7ZuS5eSlRIdXi4hiUASVqJvjecz2msonJw2uQtnnBQIJdvvwm1IWm9VagYmoCgGpQ1id-yuP3b5cWKaC90iicnYkZkce0nCbiZ_wRSv6MzgohDPaZHhMoobq1A_oOPLg/s400/Toledo_05_use.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Approaching Toledo</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.524px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were
concerned that Toledo’s history might have been overtaken by civilization, but
that wasn't the case. The Tajo River
protects the ancient walled city on three sides. We wandered the streets
of the old city; saw El Greco's house, as well as the museum bearing his
name. We visited a church made famous
by the El Greco painting, <i>The Burial of Count Orgaz</i>, which covered one
of the walls. We walked through the mammoth cathedral, and saw such an
overwhelming opulence of statuary, paintings, altars and alcoves, as to almost
stun the mind. While most of the church was fairly dim, there was one
very bright spot near the front of the cathedral. Craning my neck, I
looked up into a niche that extended well beyond the level of the
ceiling. Marble statues of saints guarded the entrance way, fresco
paintings of heavenly scenes could be glimpsed behind the saints, and a window
tucked almost out of sight at the top of the niche provided natural lighting
for this peek up into the heavens. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlUxn9YYdUB8YInZCQXeHKdmw9FDjG-rUKQpSOMol8SBWVAM1BlwmiqiD342l0rk7irRlc-yHFCfLjVPROF6UH8QjD_Zl0Nl0xn_shEV7dVQMDwTNsFLPxJJ9r_o7cRz-e0HlN-BeAKk/s1600/Toledo_10_use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1089" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlUxn9YYdUB8YInZCQXeHKdmw9FDjG-rUKQpSOMol8SBWVAM1BlwmiqiD342l0rk7irRlc-yHFCfLjVPROF6UH8QjD_Zl0Nl0xn_shEV7dVQMDwTNsFLPxJJ9r_o7cRz-e0HlN-BeAKk/s320/Toledo_10_use.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Frank, Marie Anne, and Ed</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was
an El Greco painting of this hilled city, which we had once seen in New York's
Metropolitan Museum of Art, that had tempted Ed and me to
Toledo. For Frank, it was the fact that Toledo had long been
acknowledged as the sword-making capital of the world. Frank, who
collected walking sticks, particularly wanted one with a double-edged sword
hidden inside. (We didn't ask why....) We found swords in virtually
every shop, and the occasional walking stick, but no combination of the
two. Frank was disappointed, as the walking stick had been his main
reason for visiting Toledo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7b5U75p9DlL3gmMqbuUFyP5qfk2lefNotzXt56CHJ7apqqzJg2r9IXIW3IFaLMpjJhS9cK3LX21GOeMaPNiSW-eDHF3VCQBIgEGJNXMrzL9IaCtYEBfdar5pDAxVi4iInUzPueP3k7U/s1600/Toledo_02_use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1503" data-original-width="1111" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7b5U75p9DlL3gmMqbuUFyP5qfk2lefNotzXt56CHJ7apqqzJg2r9IXIW3IFaLMpjJhS9cK3LX21GOeMaPNiSW-eDHF3VCQBIgEGJNXMrzL9IaCtYEBfdar5pDAxVi4iInUzPueP3k7U/s320/Toledo_02_use.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Toledo, Spain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But then
our wanderings took us down a narrow back street where we saw a sign marking
the entrance to the sword factory, saying "free entry," and
definitely not listed in any of our tourist literature. A narrow shop
fronted the ‘factory,’ displaying swords of various styles (some with
marvelously ornate hilts), including rapiers, and even a battle axe or two. The
man who waited on us demonstrated the wares by taking a very solid looking
sword, resting the tip against the wall, and bending the excellent blade almost
double, as if it were made of rubber. While Frank again
couldn't find exactly what he wanted, he did settle for an attractive
walking stick with a "stabbing" sword, rather than a
"slashing" sword, secreted within. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuoICo9Sp1lh83eNfuRYlR_o7eLJTVFIqdACV3zBacbkj732dEm9qlSoocSvosENaqkczNua-422BWXNuZYFbfVWgJ0egAIODa1nBSlThoTE0r8Keu_Un2QlLMVLdlHGnP1K31QZwry0/s1600/SwordFactory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="1450" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuoICo9Sp1lh83eNfuRYlR_o7eLJTVFIqdACV3zBacbkj732dEm9qlSoocSvosENaqkczNua-422BWXNuZYFbfVWgJ0egAIODa1nBSlThoTE0r8Keu_Un2QlLMVLdlHGnP1K31QZwry0/s320/SwordFactory.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Polishing the blade of a sword.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We asked
to see the factory, and were taken first into a blacksmith's forge where the
blades were shaped and tempered, and then into a room with lathes where men
were putting the finishing touches on some of the metal hilts. All the
handles were cast in the shop.
Everything was done by hand, or with the most primitive equipment, as it
had been done for centuries past. This small, totally unassuming factory
still maintained its worldwide reputation.
They were in the process of packing a case of competition swords for
shipment to Australia. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDtdC1JuEbnWLjgR7FjL0dFoU5RWsX88KLoj0fAVq3F61HZ_K1idikIwL2MgXGmCvUNL7GIjABlPtGkSucmSc9x8FkfXo7GJMDICQQglcOb_HxIr7l0xi3jTDBCHQWlQdpogrMDZkwVk/s1600/Toledo_03_use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1042" data-original-width="1600" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDtdC1JuEbnWLjgR7FjL0dFoU5RWsX88KLoj0fAVq3F61HZ_K1idikIwL2MgXGmCvUNL7GIjABlPtGkSucmSc9x8FkfXo7GJMDICQQglcOb_HxIr7l0xi3jTDBCHQWlQdpogrMDZkwVk/s400/Toledo_03_use.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Toledo. Another view.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-29391902470055209512017-11-20T08:41:00.000-05:002017-11-20T08:41:43.276-05:001985 (2) – Spain<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrjwelhJsPdbNRUwHZJQ2SFNaR6BZdFMnAHsQ3TMVZ9zngDQ-feDp-Lne6bwfi-blbXCGJJI-21OOhYoHYysEWLtRi7Ssu2MwuYe5KTobxAWBSali3FI0xbx6I2OEX6_EKNCvCPdmykc/s1600/SpainEnvelope_72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1129" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrjwelhJsPdbNRUwHZJQ2SFNaR6BZdFMnAHsQ3TMVZ9zngDQ-feDp-Lne6bwfi-blbXCGJJI-21OOhYoHYysEWLtRi7Ssu2MwuYe5KTobxAWBSali3FI0xbx6I2OEX6_EKNCvCPdmykc/s400/SpainEnvelope_72.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We found fancy envelopes and lovely postage stamps in Spain.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By March
we'd been in Gibraltar for over five months. When the weather
improved, we decided to make the break (got out the ax and chopped off the
roots we'd grown), and sailed out of Gibraltar on March 24th. We had been
told repeatedly (to the point I was sick to death of hearing it), that the
Mediterranean provided two kinds of sailing conditions - either a flat calm or
a full gale. We were pleasantly surprised when we had a lovely day sail
in gentle breezes for our twenty-mile jaunt to the harbor of Estepona. It
was a nice way to start off "the season." <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGBseY917FI8KJ3gcD2030_cn1l7Ex_Q888EAopX4fBUdvwGd4fmu0xIhCJMV5SwJTKITYmnksazLTfQYYz8VfJ8vMueXmUThRsHTV5CkNtrdBLHLlD_XXTSULSdEm4NCZQ0gGH42UCM/s1600/EsteponaSpain02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="737" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGBseY917FI8KJ3gcD2030_cn1l7Ex_Q888EAopX4fBUdvwGd4fmu0xIhCJMV5SwJTKITYmnksazLTfQYYz8VfJ8vMueXmUThRsHTV5CkNtrdBLHLlD_XXTSULSdEm4NCZQ0gGH42UCM/s320/EsteponaSpain02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Estepona postcard</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We spent
three nights in Estepona. On our last
morning, when we were getting ready to leave, I wanted to mail some postcards,
but couldn’t get any stamps. I met an
older British woman in the grocery, and asked if she would mail them for
me. (You can always depend on women
like her – they must have been the backbone of the British Empire.) She asked me where we were headed. When I told her Almerimar, she took me by
the shoulders and declared, “God help you!
The wind blows like crazy, and there’s absolutely nothing to do
there!” With that pronouncement, she
sailed out through the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr5yA76TzIeUb5GqvWJow72Fqofz0Se-kZAnxhZl8-hmsAVjkTph9WUQ8cHTGWcwkLJy1hAblnF7Gd5bQrWB-BulXqnUn9ziv15f5_x8R1MY5BBdDBxc24iCapqxfsSzrNzoT0Y5A6fc/s1600/almerimar-map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="448" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr5yA76TzIeUb5GqvWJow72Fqofz0Se-kZAnxhZl8-hmsAVjkTph9WUQ8cHTGWcwkLJy1hAblnF7Gd5bQrWB-BulXqnUn9ziv15f5_x8R1MY5BBdDBxc24iCapqxfsSzrNzoT0Y5A6fc/s400/almerimar-map.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You can see Almerimar on the southeast coast of Spain.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were
pleased we’d had a look, on our road trip, at the upcoming marinas. We knew ahead of time there wasn't going to
be much of interest to us along the Costa del Sol. So we picked Almerimar
Marina (about 150 miles east of Gibraltar), in the province of Almeria, as our
next "mail stop," and made tracks in that direction. Leaving
Estepona, we had day sails (I use the term loosely as there was no wind and we
motored all the way), of about 30 miles each.
With a favorable current, that meant around five hours of
traveling. We stopped two days each in Fuengirola, Torre del Mar, and
Puerto de Motril before arriving at Almerimar. <span style="font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While we
arrived in Almerimar in a calm, it wasn't long before the wind was
howling. (Yes, I remembered what the
British lady had told me.) The
occasional day when it did stop was a very welcome respite. And there
really was almost nothing to do there. The nearest village was four miles
away, and the nearest city, Almeria, about thirty miles distant. But the
isolation of Almerimar was one of our chief reasons for selecting it. We wanted a safe place to leave Tropic Moon
while we did some touring inland through Spain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_ssdKf5QAR7zS_1MHNIuvXx5VkqTqI6RgGTFk_yUd3zbDt_VYAjOJhtQtKfv3KanHvfH6NYBpPEOxMq8H36PIVtcMerNtvQohqkX9QY5C1Lms-qASdYEetGr6tlvjCmZOTJ0dSCDCCM/s1600/Almerimar_overview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_ssdKf5QAR7zS_1MHNIuvXx5VkqTqI6RgGTFk_yUd3zbDt_VYAjOJhtQtKfv3KanHvfH6NYBpPEOxMq8H36PIVtcMerNtvQohqkX9QY5C1Lms-qASdYEetGr6tlvjCmZOTJ0dSCDCCM/s400/Almerimar_overview.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. These days, Almerimar is a golf resort.<br />You can see the marina in the background.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had
stopped our mail from home weeks before we left Gibraltar. From the time in Gibraltar when I called my
mother to restart our mail with the new Almerimar address, till we actually
arrived there, was another three weeks.
Mounds of mail had accumulated in the marina office. When we went
to collect the mail, Paco, one of the men who handled the desk, cried out,
"You are here! I begin to wonder who the Moon is!" <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBSOrDNNYoR5upsGdJ83rGblciOnPJ45PTDDbm8DVQ7GRymqEHXpXaZz-H2k3FNyFpbZJIkPmnYkcnKmqWTzInhAnuBS7-6EAhVS7-5dwYEFnxlgg9j6ChKZrsjfoOYTzOANgSPSz5G8/s1600/Almerimar_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1600" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBSOrDNNYoR5upsGdJ83rGblciOnPJ45PTDDbm8DVQ7GRymqEHXpXaZz-H2k3FNyFpbZJIkPmnYkcnKmqWTzInhAnuBS7-6EAhVS7-5dwYEFnxlgg9j6ChKZrsjfoOYTzOANgSPSz5G8/s320/Almerimar_new.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A near-empty marina, when we were at Almerimar.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next
morning, when I was on the dock, a man came up to me on a motor scooter. He asked if we'd gotten our mail. I
told him we’d picked it up the night before.
We got to talking. Frank (British), and his wife, Marie Anne (Dutch), were traveling on a catamaran, and
came from Holland by way of the French canal system. They were both physiotherapists, and were taking a couple years
off. They planned to set up a new
practice in Wales. They’d been working
in Holland for nine years. Frank and
Marie Anne had visited Granada (our prime target), but were planning to drive
up to Toledo in a borrowed car. In typical "open boat" fashion
- though we'd only met five minutes before - Frank asked if we'd like to go
along. It was too good an offer to pass up; a few days later the
four of us left for Toledo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_T0CBhgTbaJoNSBl-GNGbbz32_2w5rEXTf2cOzfEZeAvytxyfi4wJGVLO2mokUYFylAHzlPNaKvznLdvw7boCbiCpvpnKyUb6kIDYmG6x3GTccpQpFvowJhDcX5QZn_HUAt2xFHfTc-k/s1600/Spain3Windmills_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="1561" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_T0CBhgTbaJoNSBl-GNGbbz32_2w5rEXTf2cOzfEZeAvytxyfi4wJGVLO2mokUYFylAHzlPNaKvznLdvw7boCbiCpvpnKyUb6kIDYmG6x3GTccpQpFvowJhDcX5QZn_HUAt2xFHfTc-k/s400/Spain3Windmills_new.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not a great photo, but can you spot the windmills on the hills?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We not
only visited the ancient walled city of Toledo, but also Madrid, Spain's
bustling, cosmopolitan capital, as well as the old Moorish stronghold, the
Alhambra, at Granada. We toured castles, cathedrals, fortresses, museums,
palaces, age-old factories, and beautiful gardens. But what really
captured our imaginations, far more than buildings and fountains, were the
history, legend and romanticism of Spain. On our drive to Toledo, we
passed through the province of La Mancha, the legendary setting of Don Quixote
who, on his horse Ronzinante, and with his faithful squire, Sancho Panza, had
done battle with the windmills of this area. We were watching for
windmills, and saw very few at first, causing Marie Anne to comment that Don Quixote
must have been more successful in his quest than she had been led to
believe. But then we approached a hill with a ruined castle on the peak,
and two rows of unvanquished windmills marching proudly down either side.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UHE2a9Oi4ShiLEEP_Ghyphenhyphena-ld6BL9kZpaA4MMMDAPpBNuItBOHXaXCOKStlFDhUXtzpiCvnzeTPLeZ9rFcu2kObbkukznD9LSkE-GDfZNpf1YMTTdHGtY6R-gtQLNAXiarul8VDMJios/s1600/Spain3Windmills_Internet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1111" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UHE2a9Oi4ShiLEEP_Ghyphenhyphena-ld6BL9kZpaA4MMMDAPpBNuItBOHXaXCOKStlFDhUXtzpiCvnzeTPLeZ9rFcu2kObbkukznD9LSkE-GDfZNpf1YMTTdHGtY6R-gtQLNAXiarul8VDMJios/s320/Spain3Windmills_Internet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Windmills, and castle, in La Mancha</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
scenery in the mountains was beautiful, and very appealing in its agricultural
simplicity and vibrant colors. From a
distance, the hills appeared to be the work of a meticulous seamstress
specializing in patchwork quilts. We gazed on a tapestry of fields
done in golden browns, deep reds and lime greens, under a blue sky stitched
with puffy white clouds. Included were
hundreds of olive trees, painstakingly added in forest green French knots, on a
background of rich red ocher cloth. </div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-16846191529167869262017-10-31T15:01:00.000-04:002017-10-31T15:01:25.484-04:001985 (1) – Road Trip<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0fmN92GjCHn6arXzpp2gE_kgWyXg6B7Po96XycQHNQp4yUuPXDRtvMhJXwKhGvea2qFJFh03nFW38VX6p4Lq2PgAG1_m8yi4p8Pl1lrX6w8Id-SmohLoGDipkQzBgj4XRlUje9T0zVc/s1600/Bazaar+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0fmN92GjCHn6arXzpp2gE_kgWyXg6B7Po96XycQHNQp4yUuPXDRtvMhJXwKhGvea2qFJFh03nFW38VX6p4Lq2PgAG1_m8yi4p8Pl1lrX6w8Id-SmohLoGDipkQzBgj4XRlUje9T0zVc/s320/Bazaar+%25281%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">One of the many interesting shops in Gibraltar.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our weeks in Gibraltar turned into months. On February 5, 1985, the border between
Gibraltar and Spain reopened after sixteen years. That was a Tuesday. On
Friday, Julie (a friend from another boat), and I walked across into Spain. The town on the other side of the border is
La Linea de la Concepcion. We wandered
around looking in shop windows, and stopped for an ice cream cone. It turned out to be Julie’s treat because I
hadn’t thought to change any money into pesetas! We walked for three hours, and were pretty tired when we got back
to the marina.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqapY0pEtnUymVvTOR0qh_Rf9sGZBn4lcs_VL1f8qiMoI1YkdKvGTwkXZaTsHP8G4wOEWyWy7EQtP9c8skAIcxOixTTCUFvqEErnut5tKXwIiajBC9CFdRxW-HXJ7FjFFDVR2kJ05A-wU/s1600/Cinema.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqapY0pEtnUymVvTOR0qh_Rf9sGZBn4lcs_VL1f8qiMoI1YkdKvGTwkXZaTsHP8G4wOEWyWy7EQtP9c8skAIcxOixTTCUFvqEErnut5tKXwIiajBC9CFdRxW-HXJ7FjFFDVR2kJ05A-wU/s320/Cinema.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I watched many movies at this theater. The cost was one dollar.<br />The movie changed at least once a week. They never knew<br />what movie they would be showing until the film arrived in the mail!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One day in early March, we were surprised to be hailed from
the dock with a loud call, "Can't believe you're still here in
Gibraltar." It was Tony and Marjorie, a couple who had been friends
while we were in Portugal, and who had stayed in Vilamoura for the
winter. Their boat, Marjorie II, was still in Vilamoura, but they
had driven to Gibraltar in a rental car. Their intention was to check out
the marinas along the southern Spanish coast, and select a nice one to moor in
when friends, who were expected in mid-April, came to visit. They had
decided to stop in Gibraltar to see if we were still around. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAGIx3isdw6gby7Z2ZPBPJMrQ5yw25uUGyafur7idqYwvrsz_2HB33V_tiazEL5xB9HO0AaonRkACpJptiJ_-42g9w2C5F9YZrN1aiCSKp2piZXgOKIM-LQ4NaYJzHvGYzdTvj7wJ1kU/s1600/Marina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTAGIx3isdw6gby7Z2ZPBPJMrQ5yw25uUGyafur7idqYwvrsz_2HB33V_tiazEL5xB9HO0AaonRkACpJptiJ_-42g9w2C5F9YZrN1aiCSKp2piZXgOKIM-LQ4NaYJzHvGYzdTvj7wJ1kU/s320/Marina.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Rock of Gibraltar, rising behind buildings at the marina.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were really pleased to see them, and talked them into
staying overnight. That evening we took
them for curry at our favorite Indian restaurant, the Maharaja. I was
fairly new to curries, and always ordered my lamb with "very
mild" flavor, done in a delicious cream and coconut sauce. Ed
that night braved "medium," but Marjorie and Tony, old hands at
curry, went straight to "very hot." The waiter asked them if
they meant VERY hot and they said, yes, very, VERY hot. Without even seeming to sweat, they
thoroughly enjoyed a meal that would have sent me straight to the hospital.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSp-iHvac4yoKjmWab5MINmbAAeLJdqM2rz96RaWAmrj8buGD4fpuXm8h6U_jt3jPjTdpXP18MN5hEdXQGMOac45LFirtSCFmSsrlbXLHoDBOf0IRKaCxRm7xES_78u5tYY5NikkY4Eo/s1600/Town+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1061" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSp-iHvac4yoKjmWab5MINmbAAeLJdqM2rz96RaWAmrj8buGD4fpuXm8h6U_jt3jPjTdpXP18MN5hEdXQGMOac45LFirtSCFmSsrlbXLHoDBOf0IRKaCxRm7xES_78u5tYY5NikkY4Eo/s320/Town+%25287%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gibraltar street scene</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tony and
Marjorie invited us to go for a ride with them the next day to see the marinas
along the first section of the southern coast of Spain. We visited four
marinas by lunchtime. The marinas were fine, but everything was very
tourist-oriented, with high-rise apartment buildings. There was lots of new construction, all part of Spain's
tourist industry. Tony and Marjorie selected Duquesa because it was clean
and quiet and far from any town. We
decided to give that one a miss - for the same reason - because it was far from
any town. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsq2IyglOj1pW9SQYxoufmiQajqyVrO4NuYLGdfMS259GO7kkQa0N32xAYeBS6oM-H77g-dojPXfHnNnKpTRy8Jb1paykKTDhfABj4LdI3_9q7vw9bMenDJKN-1Px8wZM1c3JeKjBkNw/s1600/RondaBridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsq2IyglOj1pW9SQYxoufmiQajqyVrO4NuYLGdfMS259GO7kkQa0N32xAYeBS6oM-H77g-dojPXfHnNnKpTRy8Jb1paykKTDhfABj4LdI3_9q7vw9bMenDJKN-1Px8wZM1c3JeKjBkNw/s320/RondaBridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Internet Photo. The 18th century bridge at Ronda.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The four
of us had a pleasant lunch in Marbella at an outdoor cafe alongside the
marina. After lunch, Tony got out the map and suggested we return to
Gibraltar by a different route, taking a drive through the nearby
mountains. Making what turned out to be a good choice, we decided to pass
through the city of Ronda. The only information Marjorie's
Michelin guide had on Ronda was that it contained the oldest bullring in
Spain. After a couple hours of climbing over 3000 feet on a new, winding,
well-built road, we reached Ronda. In the center of a mountain range that
bears its name, Ronda is set on a plateau on the edge of a gorge, overlooking a
plunging ravine. Peering straight down 650 feet from the 18th century bridge
that spans the ravine was enough to give anyone a case of the dizzies.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While
we didn't have much time to spend in Ronda, we particularly didn't want to
miss Spain's oldest bullring. We bought
tickets to go inside. A guide led us through the bullring and told us
some of its history. Built in 1784, it was still in use, with bullfights
held at the time of the local fiestas. King Juan Carlos attended the
September bullfights. Our guide pointed
out the royal box to us, as well as the area where the band sat to
perform. We squeezed ourselves behind the boards where the matadors go to
escape the bull's horns, and then our guide took us to the center of the
ring. There he clapped his hands, and the sound reverberated around the
walls of the bullring. Marjorie and I tried some foot stomping and a few
"Oles!" while Tony and Ed pretended not to know us, and the guide
smiled indulgently. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKGlE8oabLFO6qyZGMt8KqNG4pYmQT_9Jl4K6uFJLAS3f5seidxx24KK74KP797PaHUjJX67r4Rbk-yE8MPTHJhnUW_MHl0ZTYwHygAZHaNZWxOS7ttB6zVJoVD4oS_rPh6WeK5tLEmo/s1600/MalagaSpainAntiguaPlazaDeToros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="643" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKGlE8oabLFO6qyZGMt8KqNG4pYmQT_9Jl4K6uFJLAS3f5seidxx24KK74KP797PaHUjJX67r4Rbk-yE8MPTHJhnUW_MHl0ZTYwHygAZHaNZWxOS7ttB6zVJoVD4oS_rPh6WeK5tLEmo/s320/MalagaSpainAntiguaPlazaDeToros.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Postcard I purchased. Not the bullring we visited. We were up in the<br />mountains. This bullring was in Malaga, down by the sea.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
guide then pointed us on to the museum, and told us that we would see
"toro" inside. The museum was an experience - there were
several bulls' heads attached to the walls, a pictorial history of bullfighting
at Ronda, and cases containing retired-matadors' hand-embroidered costumes
(called a "suit of lights"), several of which had dark stains which
our new guide explained to us were "bwud" from the bulls. (It
took us awhile to catch on to his highly accented English.) Bullfighting
was often a family tradition. Portraits
of successive generations of bullfighters, grouped by family, also adorned the
walls. There was even an old photograph of Ernest Hemingway attending a
Ronda bullfight. In Ronda's long history, only one matador had ever been
killed in its bullring -- illustrated in another graphic pictorial
display. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
drive home to Gibraltar was breathtaking. An older road, full of
impossible curves and switchbacks, meandered through orange groves of colorful
fruit, passed shepherds tending their sheep, and zipped through small hamlets
of whitewashed, red-roofed homes, suspended precariously on the slopes of the
mountains. It was the time of the full moon. We watched it rise like a pale, colorless orange from the
mountains to the east. As we descended from the heights, we would get the
occasional glimpse of "the Rock" far below us, with the Atlas
Mountains of Morocco ranged behind it like protective parents, across the
narrow Strait of Gibraltar. <o:p></o:p></div>
Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-80651009688741762082017-10-25T16:33:00.000-04:002017-10-25T16:33:20.083-04:001984 (14) – Touring the Rock<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RzdSvm12bNsvkHoPZ0cTSIqpElPIQD42t4kDioZR1NLqsFOogk478Rs9k590uTWnl5qEHnYgBxXC8NgJuBnmC9PSbdj-ikaY0Y5PvobdGGX9G6htwuscX7simVlkk2AkiZrj3fFXXaE/s1600/CableCar+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="356" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RzdSvm12bNsvkHoPZ0cTSIqpElPIQD42t4kDioZR1NLqsFOogk478Rs9k590uTWnl5qEHnYgBxXC8NgJuBnmC9PSbdj-ikaY0Y5PvobdGGX9G6htwuscX7simVlkk2AkiZrj3fFXXaE/s320/CableCar+%25281%2529.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Postcard. Cable Car to the top of the Rock.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We waited for a sunny day to tour the Rock of
Gibraltar. On that day, we walked
across town to the cable car that takes visitors up the mountain (and back
down, if you're not so foolish as to decide to walk it). The cable car
made a stop halfway up the mountain where we got out to visit the Apes
Den. There was a troop of about twenty apes living on that part of the
mountain. They were free to roam about
at will. Called Barbary Apes, their ancestors were originally from
Africa. No one knows how they came to be in Gibraltar, but it was assumed
the original apes were brought over as pets when the Moors occupied the Iberian
Peninsula. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1BigM4-r9fLD-lLpTLdjyCxwg0CnRlolrRccTFFTcAhpsYhZV5sFV8oLdCHQsNFSe2gMhLE3EXbMg-PGGAwSbMAaSVpSTcDoJiNR4B_rLDec-w4Dc18n6OKqIaBZuR89d5cLMh06rho/s1600/Apes+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1009" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1BigM4-r9fLD-lLpTLdjyCxwg0CnRlolrRccTFFTcAhpsYhZV5sFV8oLdCHQsNFSe2gMhLE3EXbMg-PGGAwSbMAaSVpSTcDoJiNR4B_rLDec-w4Dc18n6OKqIaBZuR89d5cLMh06rho/s320/Apes+%25281%2529.jpg" width="201" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Postcard. Posing for his portrait.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The apes were under the protection of the British
Army. One of our pamphlets explained that the apes specialize in
"monkey business." We saw a good example when one lady, holding
her baby, put down her purse. In a
flash, one of the apes had grabbed it, and taken out the food she'd been
carrying. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdK5kd8Hjy_YHvWeE79_LM7hlMhB0EiMVCCJIxnXNyDUVMZGT_82M_F5H3PlJskD3nbhm3KaMwgAzOyIuNuO10o0skbSXSx17iVOD6VfDJuynvTAqTvj3lfQo_Y6ccMbLM960oo0SFKQ/s1600/EdTopOfRock+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1071" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdK5kd8Hjy_YHvWeE79_LM7hlMhB0EiMVCCJIxnXNyDUVMZGT_82M_F5H3PlJskD3nbhm3KaMwgAzOyIuNuO10o0skbSXSx17iVOD6VfDJuynvTAqTvj3lfQo_Y6ccMbLM960oo0SFKQ/s320/EdTopOfRock+%25284%2529.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ed, at the top of Gibraltar.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
After our visit with the apes, we caught the next cable car
going up, and went to the top of the mountain. We had beautiful views in
all directions - Spain nearby, Africa and the Atlas Mountains to the south, and
the Mediterranean Sea stretching off to the east. From there we walked
downhill for about ten minutes to St. Michael's Cave. A natural cave,
1000 feet above sea level, it had a beautiful display of stalagmites and
stalactites. One exhibit explained that the caves were inhabited as long
as 30,000 years ago in Neanderthal times. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTu1DpomBScqiGM4vLCVk_n2oWHw_xs5HXnA8jMVaTXTKmC7wFHI0R1itNZa11wGMdREfGfU2Dz7XiAIFAZ0zDO6aWFSivvH2rQVWfrtJ-guwRbRr_vt3ePKEfPhWoqcLm7tvzctKov7g/s1600/Cave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1112" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTu1DpomBScqiGM4vLCVk_n2oWHw_xs5HXnA8jMVaTXTKmC7wFHI0R1itNZa11wGMdREfGfU2Dz7XiAIFAZ0zDO6aWFSivvH2rQVWfrtJ-guwRbRr_vt3ePKEfPhWoqcLm7tvzctKov7g/s320/Cave2.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A view inside the caves.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On leaving the caves, we had a choice of walking back uphill
to get the cable car at the top of the mountain, or following the road
downward, and catching the cable car at the Apes Den. What with the pull
of gravity having its usual effect, we headed downhill. After visiting
with the monkeys again, we decided to walk the rest of the way down the
mountain. The paved road zigzagged across the face of the mountain - and
eventually took off back up the hill. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1LYfXINt-Tgkv4lfVzNA1jL8a2pvnNrOoC4s89qlzx876pjjmKa2cayf0Z_1BNs78r4p9GcZ8Ow2cET2bv0JREEkwgBd4cyS89k-XXzlVo_CNNW3OgGsCwwtC-mVdPrFQz98CFRx7Mc/s1600/Cave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1LYfXINt-Tgkv4lfVzNA1jL8a2pvnNrOoC4s89qlzx876pjjmKa2cayf0Z_1BNs78r4p9GcZ8Ow2cET2bv0JREEkwgBd4cyS89k-XXzlVo_CNNW3OgGsCwwtC-mVdPrFQz98CFRx7Mc/s400/Cave.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We found what looked like a disused road, and continued
downward. It was a long walk, but we eventually got to the bottom - only
to find ourselves stopped by a ten-foot high, rusty metal gate, topped with
spikes. On the far side we could see the casino and a road that would
take us to town. There was no way around the gate, which was
padlocked. We got the distinct feeling we were where we shouldn't
be. We decided we were going to have to climb over the gate.
Ed pointed out diagonal metal bars, and explained that by using the bars, I
could climb up one side of the gate, go over the top, and climb down the other
side. I get over without much trouble. When Ed came across, I had
him stand by the gate while I took a picture. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdSzZqiIPDqIuhC2WJBrEtiWc55PB3NqktOWRzl5hWi4pWzcOq3Tk5lJxbKjozM0LlT22lOf40gvYz03SdrC1y3amjUAdRzdZgv4XbzzAWTSiIiS3t2eGWIg0SfemotaJu_-zOBpgc24/s1600/Gate+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1066" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdSzZqiIPDqIuhC2WJBrEtiWc55PB3NqktOWRzl5hWi4pWzcOq3Tk5lJxbKjozM0LlT22lOf40gvYz03SdrC1y3amjUAdRzdZgv4XbzzAWTSiIiS3t2eGWIg0SfemotaJu_-zOBpgc24/s320/Gate+%25281%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes, we climbed over that gate.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We didn't carry any insurance on the boat, or any medical
insurance on ourselves, and just took our chances. But - having
been brought up on Prudential commercials - I was sure that all we really
needed in insurance was to "get a piece of the Rock."
I had it in mind to pick up a rock on one of our hikes, but before I got
around to it, I came upon a store in town with a window sign saying:
"Take Home a Piece of the Rock." I succumbed and went
inside. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9pNJvhBVCX9YoOj-Y2g8E-VecFbC0glHzg7o7v7ERBxbj7jVLa6JF5TPPT53671tfZNNe_Q1xToBb2BR5wbKMlIQVLEUHLdhRe-zJWvyxBuoVdxWwr3c3afN2v9R9faxHbbsEhsZClQ/s1600/CableCar+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9pNJvhBVCX9YoOj-Y2g8E-VecFbC0glHzg7o7v7ERBxbj7jVLa6JF5TPPT53671tfZNNe_Q1xToBb2BR5wbKMlIQVLEUHLdhRe-zJWvyxBuoVdxWwr3c3afN2v9R9faxHbbsEhsZClQ/s320/CableCar+%25282%2529.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My shot of the cable car.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gibraltar was formed of limestone. This store owner had access to stalagmites and stalactites that
were removed from St. Michael's Cave during the Second World War, when the cave
was used as a hospital. He sold polished hunks of rock, as well as some
lovely jewelry. The polished stone was translucent, and the color of butterscotch. Since a rock off the hill would have ended up as more
ballast on the boat, I could see the practicality of buying my piece of the
Rock at this store. I mentioned insurance to
the proprietor. He replied that
Prudential should write to him if they needed any more pieces of the
Rock. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfhRDBD_0ZFskhJ2ul7YhaETX0Z_RT_RR8KmxBAOJe7Vy4Y1cuRwQRxZlOqNFFsvT4f6BEe8sK4vbbW92CP3jfZue4Xr1r3M-HfJ8A6FZiUtQ9nt5pIxWITgPZZ4Nqgp5CD7hUCwWtI8/s1600/RockPostcards+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="724" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfhRDBD_0ZFskhJ2ul7YhaETX0Z_RT_RR8KmxBAOJe7Vy4Y1cuRwQRxZlOqNFFsvT4f6BEe8sK4vbbW92CP3jfZue4Xr1r3M-HfJ8A6FZiUtQ9nt5pIxWITgPZZ4Nqgp5CD7hUCwWtI8/s400/RockPostcards+%25286%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Postcard. Sunrise across the Bay of Gibraltar.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Many boats passed through the marina during the fall,
on their way out of the Mediterranean. The cruising sailors were headed
for the Canary Islands off Africa, then on across the Atlantic Ocean to the
Caribbean. The racers were sailing to Casablanca for the start of a
trans-Atlantic race to the island of Guadeloupe. You could
almost imagine the boats were birds, migrating together in a flock. That was the time of year when the winter
trade winds made for favorable passages from Europe to the
Caribbean. In a few years, we would probably be among them. I was
glad we were going east, heading in to the Mediterranean, and not back
across the Atlantic.Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-67526076448944812592017-10-22T10:20:00.000-04:002017-10-22T10:20:18.774-04:001984 (13) – Exploring the Town<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwD6FsnLPcjooVuvYBqMEdEuL7Tm01-8ZFAx08UsDqEjBUwwwGRGU7lUVwpWEqzeRH99RDUMKXReYa5SsOdNS-1Jj7ZZ8psYZD6yY2I5oLVWPW6bKrFSOi4eLYYasG8FTNMjX4K2JDhIY/s1600/RockPostcards+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="614" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwD6FsnLPcjooVuvYBqMEdEuL7Tm01-8ZFAx08UsDqEjBUwwwGRGU7lUVwpWEqzeRH99RDUMKXReYa5SsOdNS-1Jj7ZZ8psYZD6yY2I5oLVWPW6bKrFSOi4eLYYasG8FTNMjX4K2JDhIY/s400/RockPostcards+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Postcard</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had imagined that everyone in Gibraltar would be British,
but the people were actually descendants of Spanish settlers, and settlers from
Genoa in Italy, with a dash of Moor thrown in. The Gibraltarians spoke
English to the outsider, but among themselves they used a language evolved from
Spanish and Genoese that is spoken nowhere else in the world. About 25%
of the population was Moroccan (Morocco is just twelve miles across the Straits
from Gibraltar). The Moroccans made up
most of the low-paid labor force doing manual labor like cleaning and
construction work. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP58MP22qlKCj4L1YNb9cJ-c2I4slVeSt0GBiQTWFWy7ruPUlCvWRpEhQaT63zPNDI2SLjzmudcPgO1USzh9tcXHqbBNdGnVo8nR-QboDthmOR9r6MvV49GHWDRbSr4ChK6JZ03kqj6IE/s1600/Airport+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP58MP22qlKCj4L1YNb9cJ-c2I4slVeSt0GBiQTWFWy7ruPUlCvWRpEhQaT63zPNDI2SLjzmudcPgO1USzh9tcXHqbBNdGnVo8nR-QboDthmOR9r6MvV49GHWDRbSr4ChK6JZ03kqj6IE/s400/Airport+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. The Rock of Gibraltar. <br />Notice the airport runway, and the marina right above it.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Crowded" and "seedy" come to mind when
I think of Gibraltar. That 2-square-mile bit of rock housed 25,000
people. From the streets of town, there were mazes of steps, paths and
passageways making a warren of the hillside.
Many people lived on the steep slopes overlooking the city. Lawns
and gardens (aside from the public ones) were nonexistent. And woven
betwixt and between city streets and hillside housing were the remnants of
battlements, forts, drawbridges, tunnels, and a castle, with every historic
wall labeled in two-foot high block letters. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOeNLg1pdIHTsO8Ulm4wDkrm9B5HySjrJpw2rZ_ch8tSqe9fzA80b9XP2cMtWht8-s5l4a5BA65kbMe9QdMIuY-nPGvbNzDvbbKgxiaYreL4EAatW13s6joeL_HJB7qWpSXO9ZyN_0Stk/s1600/Walls+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOeNLg1pdIHTsO8Ulm4wDkrm9B5HySjrJpw2rZ_ch8tSqe9fzA80b9XP2cMtWht8-s5l4a5BA65kbMe9QdMIuY-nPGvbNzDvbbKgxiaYreL4EAatW13s6joeL_HJB7qWpSXO9ZyN_0Stk/s400/Walls+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The castle is up in the background, on the right.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We spoke with many people, mainly British, and the advice
was virtually unanimous that we were crazy to stay in Gibraltar, when we were
free to go on to Spain. We listened to complaints on everything from the
weather, the closed border, the size of the place, the local people, the lack
of nightlife, the quality of service, and the expense of importing food and
goods. But, even though the novelty of the place quickly wore off, and
despite all the advice we received, we still liked Gibraltar very much, and
decided to stay on there for a couple months. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOntdqAlOcA7lbC39HPdjeWYXz-AZDTodIn_CPggvYD2cCyHTJuu3EGJ1_EBNIv-r7tg03o4rNjF-2DBWSN-bMESRah-irjEbJMmLCwVDvXO_aY_c0UK3ileqsdBC0mkzI465KYP6SMII/s1600/Docks+%25283%2529_WithType.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOntdqAlOcA7lbC39HPdjeWYXz-AZDTodIn_CPggvYD2cCyHTJuu3EGJ1_EBNIv-r7tg03o4rNjF-2DBWSN-bMESRah-irjEbJMmLCwVDvXO_aY_c0UK3ileqsdBC0mkzI465KYP6SMII/s400/Docks+%25283%2529_WithType.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The crowded marina. I added an arrow, pointing to Tropic Moon.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ever since the Azores I had been self-conscious about being
so obviously an American. It seemed that everyone could tell, even before
I opened my mouth. I fared better in Gibraltar. One day we were
watching the Changing of the Guard in front of the Governor's palace. I had been chatting with an older British
couple who were standing next to us, the man taking picture after picture of
the guard and the marching band. At one point he turned to me and said,
"You don't look like an American. You're not flashing away with a
camera." We hadn't bothered to bring the camera with us that day
because it was overcast. We figured if
there was anything worth taking a picture of, we could come back again.
So I pointed to the sky and remarked that it was cloudy. "I only
take pictures when the sky is blue." He nodded, looking like he
thought I was pulling his leg (I wasn't), and went back to his picture
taking. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsmR2VVax0zXw-wYgE0CnOBVwQ-I1IJpbranc4swJt1nTIVnwKjVZE89LjDMYIu5vXc6LvNbQx9y7n_wBV8r1QwgXChG1pyEtRMAP6yrthOcVjysp5hH7g_b79UiaBUALE4cybBi86wY/s1600/Mummy_in_Gibraltar_Museum.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsmR2VVax0zXw-wYgE0CnOBVwQ-I1IJpbranc4swJt1nTIVnwKjVZE89LjDMYIu5vXc6LvNbQx9y7n_wBV8r1QwgXChG1pyEtRMAP6yrthOcVjysp5hH7g_b79UiaBUALE4cybBi86wY/s400/Mummy_in_Gibraltar_Museum.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. Mummies in a case at the Gibraltar Museum.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the Changing of the Guard, we went to visit the
Gibraltar Museum. It hadn't looked like much from the outside, but inside there
were thousands of items, displayed in lovely rooms. One room contained a
30-foot scale model of Gibraltar. There was an Egyptian mummy that had
been recovered from a ship that had sunk in the Straits, and the skull of a
Neanderthal woman that was discovered on Gibraltar. There were beautiful
watercolors of local scenes painted by a British officer in the 1800's. Rooms were filled with cases containing
samples of indigenous rocks, birds, insects and underwater marine life.
The museum was built above what was originally a 14th Century Moorish
Bathhouse. It was fun to wander through
the rooms and imagine its original use, though, as a woman, I probably wouldn't
have been allowed in. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqPh-uoOJoGUDiVO98XV9dqDCy447HyVADQVf7ZUzdgRw9IIc8UBXc983yJZ1-TSx28xAIDaHUeckEc-s5j-ZDaa1RmHE-sOth8Gz-B5KZdUPuvsHwbGHlJD7LuwesDCzS2gsU00b0GQ/s1600/Gibraltar_Moorish_Baths.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqPh-uoOJoGUDiVO98XV9dqDCy447HyVADQVf7ZUzdgRw9IIc8UBXc983yJZ1-TSx28xAIDaHUeckEc-s5j-ZDaa1RmHE-sOth8Gz-B5KZdUPuvsHwbGHlJD7LuwesDCzS2gsU00b0GQ/s400/Gibraltar_Moorish_Baths.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. One of the rooms in the Moorish bathhouse, below the Gibraltar Museum.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
The Museum was something of a labyrinth, with many
stairways and passages, and I eventually lost Ed somewhere between the wildlife
exhibits and the room on military history. I covered the area several
times, and finally decided he must be waiting near the entrance (it turned out
he was in a bathroom). Back at the
reception desk, I started talking with the woman working there. She eventually said, "You don't look
like an American." It was, indeed, my day. She then explained
that she and her family had visited Disney World in Orlando, and that she
hadn't been able to get over the number of fat American women. I asked
her what I did look like, and she said I looked like I came from
Gibraltar. Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2543625963104186421.post-77322984412845347872017-10-20T13:48:00.000-04:002017-10-20T13:48:40.673-04:001984 (12) – Gibraltar<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4McKMjeequcLjlG08OOIYD3o63qQOgZARodSkXuiUeA8wrw_wcfgy9GNzHtYwlOivDNy1J2Ox5VQbUQFARrKzWSuuNsWXW0gtbol4IuTsEACr3MopcjWdUhylcqN-xGX97JkQ3Mbdt3k/s1600/Customs_02+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4McKMjeequcLjlG08OOIYD3o63qQOgZARodSkXuiUeA8wrw_wcfgy9GNzHtYwlOivDNy1J2Ox5VQbUQFARrKzWSuuNsWXW0gtbol4IuTsEACr3MopcjWdUhylcqN-xGX97JkQ3Mbdt3k/s400/Customs_02+%25285%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ed, taking down the yellow quarantine flag, after clearing Customs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The British flag is the courtesy flag that would fly from our spreaders.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">To go to the beginning of this book, </span><b style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><i>Tropic Moon: Memories, </i></b><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">click</span><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://jeanbaardsen.blogspot.com/2017/01/tropic-moon-memories.html" style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: #224d99; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE</a><span style="background-color: #d9d2e9; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our first day in Gibraltar was totally overwhelming.
For one thing, this was our first taste of a typical European marina.
Boats are tied either stern-to or bow-to to the dock, and lie right up against
each other, with only fenders for separation. As we approached the spot
indicated by the man from the marina, he called out to ask our width. I
yelled back, 12 feet, 6 inches. He frowned a bit, and said we should fit in -
the space was 12 feet wide! It took us two tries to get in, which isn't
unusual as the wind blows the boat around. Ed was handling the wheel, I
was using my hands to keep us going in straight between the other two boats,
and we went in bow first. I threw a line to the man on the dock and he
passed up a thick rope. I was glad Ed knew what to do with the rope,
because I didn't. The rope ran all the way back behind the boat to a
mooring. Ed fished the rope out of the
water till he had it taut from the mooring, and then tied it off to a cleat on
the stern of the boat. That way we were tied both fore and aft, as well
as being sandwiched between two other boats. I still don't know where Ed
picked up that useful bit of information.
I wasn't going to ask him either, because he would have told me it was
obvious that there would have to be some sort of stern mooring. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhRP_XXo-2P0ua0VANmkWXQaMWboWSBv7JEO_yIcoG3uZDio1iO1iHBZvd2KaolRF3Iv1-qLvIGKfdewLNoE2NE_iIvY80j1Fbz87EPpLHyRg0HJGi1399xzw-mqbXZulg7ZV_2mo0rc/s1600/Approach+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhRP_XXo-2P0ua0VANmkWXQaMWboWSBv7JEO_yIcoG3uZDio1iO1iHBZvd2KaolRF3Iv1-qLvIGKfdewLNoE2NE_iIvY80j1Fbz87EPpLHyRg0HJGi1399xzw-mqbXZulg7ZV_2mo0rc/s400/Approach+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Rock, as we approached Gibraltar, at the end of our passage from Portugal.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We walked into town to exchange some money, and then stopped
at a restaurant for a quick lunch. We looked over our new money. It was the first time we'd had occasion to
use British Sterling - the pounds and pence system. After lunch, we
checked in at the marina office and were asked to pay one week's dockage in
advance. I had changed $100 in traveler’s checks. After paying for lunch, a week's dockage, a
week of electricity, a daily levy for the government, and a deposit for an
electrical plug so that we could use our expensive power, I had 20 pence left
in my pocket. Our money had gone a lot further in Portugal. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFWYU-PbuKNp9YZWZa1s5rMlaPDQqrx2U6-tjTsJ7CJ6Irs5YWhG_OjwC-d2MWs8-6vA_fjyOQUFzJNeC1Fydzf7xjT-cGXH3HYq9H7drpcUgkaD8IPeF6bbmDL0OWTAboTHdcvI6-CE/s1600/Customs_01+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFWYU-PbuKNp9YZWZa1s5rMlaPDQqrx2U6-tjTsJ7CJ6Irs5YWhG_OjwC-d2MWs8-6vA_fjyOQUFzJNeC1Fydzf7xjT-cGXH3HYq9H7drpcUgkaD8IPeF6bbmDL0OWTAboTHdcvI6-CE/s320/Customs_01+%25281%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tropic Moon, at the Customs Dock</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To add to the culture shock, the noise was almost
alarming. We had arrived in the middle of the NATO autumn training
exercise. The airport runway is right alongside the marina; fighter jets
were continually landing and taking off. We figured that one week of
Gibraltar was going to be more than enough. <span style="color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-size: 6.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFNbuZ9ua_Ms10EEj3aGOezPbSYzuboQcJ2VHgW6G5IQNQye9xsjBjrW7QWv-VEIDgvTPCBOG6tqrae09lP97sm1yOnjq91Ve4RNH_b0CBtwytUzxfzvtiGabu3XPcmEHhW2ILSHwATI/s1600/Airport+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="792" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFNbuZ9ua_Ms10EEj3aGOezPbSYzuboQcJ2VHgW6G5IQNQye9xsjBjrW7QWv-VEIDgvTPCBOG6tqrae09lP97sm1yOnjq91Ve4RNH_b0CBtwytUzxfzvtiGabu3XPcmEHhW2ILSHwATI/s400/Airport+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Internet Photo. You can see the airport runway, right next to the marina.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
It was another ten days before the jets went away, but
it only took a couple days for me to fall in love with Gibraltar. I guess
it was the town that did it. Streets full of stores, Indian bazaars,
Moroccan shops, and lots of restaurants, with people everywhere, and a cheerful,
busy atmosphere. That, combined with the beauty of the 1500-foot
"Rock" towering above us, with so many places to hike and so many
sights to see, had me enthralled. Gibraltar is only two square miles in
area, and was an enclosed little world which you could only reach by plane or
boat. At that time, the frontier between Spain and Gibraltar had been
closed for many years.Jean Baardsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05434387984631853462noreply@blogger.com0