Susie Monday . El Cielo Studio

Despite the recent posts, I actually have been back at work since the first week of June. The only problem -- its not been studio work. Several left-in-the-lurch consulting jobs, the Botero workshops in the libraries, a little weeklong gig at the King Ranch, here a little, there a little.

But I finally returned to my own real true self with an indulgent all day printing session. The impetus, to finish some submissions for "Alterations," an upcoming show in Tubac, Arizona -- a benefit of my membership in Art Cloth Network, a smallish group of art cloth makers. Who knows if they'll make the jury cut (Elin Noble is our esteemed and highly respected juror), but it was a treat for me just to get back to work after a 7 week absence. No matter how great a vacation is, it does seem to put me behind the 8-ball, schedule screwed and bank account empty.

These are  rusted, discharged, screen printed installation pieces, on  crinkle cotton gauze and silk broadcloth (the red).  They stretched me  in  size and technique, and while I am frustrated at my inability to take any good pictures of the work, I am happy with the actual work -- though I can see that I have further to push it.

Cinque Terre (chinck-way terr-eh, more or less) is a one of those magical places on earth that can hardly be believed. Five villages connected by footpaths, ferries (except for Corniglia), a winding road and a railroad make up the official region, which has been designated an international heritage site by the UNESCO. The terraces that surround the villages were built as many as a thousand years ago, the villages until World War II had no access except by foot or boat. Now, with eco-tourism filling the towns  and train and trams (providing ecologically sound transport) with visitors, they manage to retain their magic and Medieval qualities. We stayed in Corniglia, the smallest and least developed of the five town, due mostly to the fact that unlike the other four, the town clings to the cliffs 370 or so steps above the train station.

Our "beach,"  (unlike the one above in Rio Maggiore, I think)  was a stony cove,  another set of 400 steps down, but its quiet, near-deserted aquamarine peace, was well worth the climb.

What else? Fried anchovies, the best pesto I've ever eaten, crunchy hot farinata (a kind of chick-pea pancake or pizza crust), a fizzy light wine kind of like Portugal's Vinho Verdi, and lemon "slushy," a granita made with fresh giany Myers lemons, sugar syrup and crushed ice. Five days in Cinque Terre was our reward for museum-eyes (that state of not being able to take in one more painting) and what the German's term reisenfieber -- that experience of standing in a train or bus station and being unable to understand anything whatsoever with a total panic that one has missed the last train to one's destination of the next 24 hours.

We hiked, kayaked, sat and drank coffee, wine, sat and ate and ate, walked around eating, carried a picnic down the cliff, swam at the "free" beach (ie clothing free) that was reached via a rabbit warren of cliffside paths straight down the rabbit hole (and fortunately exited via a post swim discovery of a access-by-fee abandoned train tunnel back to Corniglia -- 10 euros was never better spent), took a ferry, climbed and climbed those stairs and slept under the bell tower of a church, between peals, at least. This place, dispite its protections, has a fragile path  to tread between economic stability  --even prosperity  -- for its population, so historically poor and a disneyfied version of itself, with just a few too many polishings of its rouch edges. I wish them all prosperity AND sustainability.

Sweet. Siena is famous for its Palio della Contrade, a no-hold-barred horserace held twice yearly in Il Campo, with horses competing from the different areas of the city. Each district has a flag, and those are prominently featured in all the touristy market stalls. But the colors and patterns that I can see coming onto my fabric and quilts are those from the region's equally famous majolica.

A new box of crayons still calls to me. Its where I learned that colors wore specific nametags: aquamarine, jade, umber, siena. And now I know that Siena is siena. Technically, siena is a natural earth pigment, one of the oldest kinds of pigments that have been used by all civilizations. According to Colour, Making and Using Dyes and Pigments, published by Thames and Hudson, siena results from yellow iron oxide, geothite, with a small amount of manganese oxide mixed in. But, looking out over the roof tops in this Tuscan town, it is quite clear what place ended up the namesake.