Spring 2019

Small sounds

The constant buzz of honey bees

gorging on maple blossoms.

The pops and crackle of my camp fire.

Birds, oh the birds!

Whistling, twittering, screeching, chirping, humming.

Peeper frogs, the very sound of Spring itself,

little amphibious lullaby.

Pond water gently lapping on the bank.

Brought to life by wind and rain.

My little work alter, paying homage to the energy and spirit of New Orleans.

Next:

Wrap skirts. My friend Rose gifted me that beautiful brocade fabric with Fleur de Lis’ and bees. Of course you all know about me adopting the “fleur” as “my” symbol but also my husband is a bee keeper! So how absolutely perfect is that!? I want to make a skirt with it but I must practice, so I’m doing a scrap denim skirt first.

Japanese inspired, dolman sleeved top from all upcycled material. Including porcupine quill embellishment.

The sleeveless funnel top I was knitting with VHS tape was curling so bad in stockinette stitch that I had to start over in garter stitch.

Some early fashion photos! The one on the left is me in pre-school, I remember I didn’t want my picture taken but they made me so I made a funny face! The other is one Christmas morning. I remember feeling very luxurious in both outfits.

My most recent inspiration board.

And…what am I listening too?

A playlist I made up called My kind of feelings. A combination of Tab Benoit and Santana, and Whitesnake radio!

Gaining focus

Working on my art show pieces. Tentative title: “Material”. Fleshing out my artist statement as well.

The first piece made from strips of various blue used tee shirts. Dolman sleeves, Japanese influence, including red stitch detailing. My first success in machine sewing interlock fabric. The second piece is a funnel neck sleeveless top out of VHS tape. The third will be an elegant day dress using repurposed material in a variety of mediums: sewing, crochet, and knit. Bodice pieces cut from a seed stitch mans polo shirt found in a free pile on the side of the road.

Finished my first vest. I got a gift certificate to Joann’s from our neighbor and bought this vest pattern and fabric. Note the beautiful buttonholes!! Many more in the future. Vests and buttonholes!

People stare at me.

My husband says it’s because I’m so sexy,

he’s a nice man like that.

I think it’s because they can see

how awkward I feel.

– J G BRYANT

Always inspired by the hot ladies of the eighties.

I am an old soul,

susceptible to having doors held open

and courteous, fond farewells.

A beguiling, antiquated courtship.

Niceties, manners and chivalry,

a chair pulled out, a kiss on the hand.

Flowers, multitudes of flowers.

Treat me like a queen,

Love me like a man.

J G BRYANT

Atticus xx

Truth.

My son, knowing no concept of judgement or embarrassment sees many a dance party when I should be doing dishes and folding laundry.

Back in the saddle again.

My Fleur de lis

The symbol of France and French royalty.

The symbol of New Orleans, Lousiana and Florence, Alabama.

The Holy Trinity.

The brand of prisoners.

Maybe courtesans too?

A Lily.

A Iris.

I am a French woman, strong and proud as a queen.

I love New Orleans, and God too.

I’m a little bad.

I’m a little good.

That’s what my Fleur de lis tattoo means to me.

odAomo is the creative-outlet-turned-design-brand of Dr. Sophia Aomo Omoro. Born in Kenya, Dr, Aomo came to North America to finish her education to become a ear,nose and throat surgeon and settled in New Orleans. Her designs are brought to fruition by 6 women in Kenya, and fabric is sourced from independent Kenyan textile distributors. All being paid a living wage. You can read more about this remarkable company on their website odaomo.com The above skirt and pants are from her store in New Orleans.

Mignon Faget is (in my opinion) THE quintessential New Orleans jeweler. As you can tell she is inspired by what she sees everyday, and everything that represents New Orleans and Louisiana. See and read about all her collections at mignonfaget.com

A little shot of Mardi Gras.

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The warm sun on my face,

the perfect antidote to the cool breeze across my body.

Walking three miles for my morning coffee.

J G BRYANT

In delightful anticipation of future projects that combine different compositions of textile.

Current state of affairs. Books, journal, sampling, and work in progress

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A shoulder to lean on,

a hand to hold.

I don’t need them.

I will cry my own self to sleep,

and in the morning, be fine.

“Call if you need help.”

I won’t.

You’ll just have to show up.

– J G BRYANT

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” I hope one day, I’ll look back and think, yes… I made my life a living art.”

-Audrey Leighton Rogers

New Orleans 2019

Walking around the old neighborhoods of New Orleans was like getting plugged into an electrical outlet. The city pulsates with art and inspiration. Everywhere you look there are painters on the sidewalks and parks. Mimes, live sculpture performers, psychics, tarot card readers, and fortune tellers. MUSIC, music of all kinds pours out from every door, crevice and open space. There’s live music and music from the stereo or someone’s sound system.

Symbolism runs deep and is plentiful, fleur de lis’ are EVERYWHERE and there’s a encyclopedias worth of stories behind its meaning. Crescents, New Orleans is known as the crescent city as it is shaped between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain, so there are a lot of moon symbols around. The colors Purple, Green and Gold also dominate the scenery. Purple stands for justice, green represents faith, and gold for power. Even the trusses of the Mississippi River bridge or Crescent connector have been used in local jewelry design.

I can’t believe that I was so overwhelmed I forgot to have any pictures taken of me in my outfits, that I made just for this trip! I will highlight some of the local artists that I supported in further posts.

(Photos from Pinterest: Gourmet Traveller and Tracy Emanuel from National Geographic. I saw some of these folks, I just forgot to take photos!)

Street musicians in Jackson Square

looking like 19th century, foggy, sooty London

Play their gypsy music

while the dog sleeps in a guitar case.

Ragged, black clothes.

Funky hats,

multiple tattoos.

Dark and dingy

against the background of colorfully painted

buildings and gas street lights.

I drop a dollar in the tin.

They love to

play their gypsy music

while the dog sleeps in a guitar case.

J G BRYANT

Sitting at the cafe

in my black sequined gown.

Eating beignets

and drinking Cafe Au Lait.

Getting white powdered sugar on my black lace gloves.

J G BRYANT

Palmettos spiking

out of the bayou

like Egyptian fans.

Wild pigs rooting

in the distant foliage.

Spanish moss draped over massive oaks

like exotic dancer’s scarves,

moving to the music: clicks and chirps

of shorebirds’ songs.

J G BRYANT

Lola in NOLA

Super moon: February 2019

” She wore moonlight

like lingerie.”

-Atticus

No light

but for the moon and stars.

Soak in the heavy darkness,

silent and alone.

I am calm.

the world outside?

Serene.

– J G BRYANT

My road trip project will be a knitting project. I’ve been furiously spinning the yarn, and knit up a sample to see what needles I need.

The “old English lace” stitch reminds me of my maternal grandmother. Pure French/Canadian, we were very close. I would sometimes spend the night with her in a bed that had a brass filigree headboard. I have always been a very early riser. In the morning I would be awake, but not wanting to bother memere; I liked to trace the pattern and feel the texture with my fingertips. Entertained me for hours.

I’m addled and torn

worship, reverence I seek.

Just a little more.

– J G BRYANT

In New Orleans I will become Lola and Lola is getting this here tattoo.

Fancy trim.

Devastating Lovliness

Standing by the door

frequently crave this darkness

swathes me like a cloak.

-J G BRYANT

“Finished” the corset dress and the lace wristlets just in time for our Valentine’s dinner date.

Shot on site of the Bryant Stove Works Thorndike, Maine. Also, finished my Japanese dress made from old bed sheets.

The Sun’s all fire

Sun’s love intense for the Moon

The Moon’s like Water

– J G BRYANT

I need to now get serious about pieces for an art show and work on my proposal. I also have the Knitmaineia fashion show to get ready for. A friend’s voice asking me, “when will you have a show here”? Keeps echoing in my mind.

My mom was into macrame back in the day. This except from one of her instruction books has unique bead ideas. She made exceptional bread dough beads. I thought these may be utilized in my art show which is fleshing out to be about fashion and material sustainability; turning trash into treasure, reusing raw materials instead of always producing new.

There is nothing quite as romantic as a Hemlock grove.

A secretive, shadowy grotto.

By little bubbling steams and moaning,murky ponds.

Their elegant,slender needles on boughs that shroud the landscape like dark lace.

– J G BRYANT

Working title February 3, 2019

Immersed in poetry. Lyrics and music by Hozier, prose by Atticus and Jewel. Writing my own in my head during my walks, then making their way to paper. Ultimately a resurgence of creativity in the atelier.

Finished enough French seams to add the beaded neck binding.

Came up with a new outfit idea inspired by AnyOldIron from Nashville, Tennessee. I was thinking of buying one of their sequined jumpsuits during my southern pilgrimage. Alas, that price is a little prohibitive, but…I can make something similar!

Born under the sign of Cancer

I am drawn to sparkles

They resemble

Sunlight on water.

– J G Bryant

Sash making. What I find both frustrating and interesting when using repurposed fabric is dealing with and working around flaws. Take these holes for instance, I embroidered over them. Little details like these only add to the character of the garment.

These Frame denim jeans are handcrafted in Los Angeles. I purchased these at Nordstrom Rack in Boston for a RIDICULOUSLY low price. But, the time has come to customize. Flares will become skinnies. Then they need a dye job. Patching and embroidery may become involved. I’ve contemplated “punking” out one pair with randomly placed repurposed zippers.

I stand naked in front of the mirror

Squinted eyes scrutinize

Every detail like an art critique.

This is soft and squishy

I wish my breasts were better shaped

My ankles are nice.

Am I beautiful? Do I think so? Does anyone think so? Do I even care? Why do I care? What is beauty anyways?

My inner woman’s consciousness monologue to my inner psychologist.

I feel the stares

Do they think I’m ridiculous?

But nobody laughs, nobody scoffs, nobody says anything.

– J G Bryant