for your tuesday enjoyment, a myriad of 'dailydresses'

As I am prepping for a presentation for a possible exhibit opportunity I've realized

that i don't have a good collection of my 'dailydresses' online.  I need to add these to

my website, however until I do I am sharing them here.

These selection includes ephemeral dresses that I have made during the course of my every day, with random materials and detritus that have inspired me. 

I have also included images from my 'dailydress inspirations' which consists of an origami dress with an inspirational quote.

My 'dressproject' began with an ephemeral dress on Wells Beach in Maine on a family vacation.

My first dress, 'brenda's dress ...' was made out of beach stones.  

and the beach and rocks continue to inspire ...

I also have many ephemeral dresses made out of food.  

Besides my passion for eating and good food, I believe the plethora of food related dresses comes from me being a mom and having young girls when I started my 'dressproject'. 

Other inspiration comes from nature ...

 

and art supplies ...

The following images are from the series, 'decemberdress' (2013) in which I made a 'dailydress' most days in December as a kind of therapy.  You can see more and read more about this series in my post, 

'the dress to the rescue' . . . a tale of loss and redemption via the dress'

I tell people that I have made over one thousand dresses since I started my 'dressproject', 

and I see no end in sight. 

Thank you for your interest and peace, 

'Nevertheless, she persisted.' from Daily Kos - a MUST READ!!

Nevertheless, she persisted.

By Laurence Lewis   from daily kos

The Founding Fathers excluded her. "We the people” was a club for men. They said all men were created equal, but they clearly believed she was not. For more than a century, she wasn't even allowed to vote.

She was denied an equal education and economic opportunity. If privileged, she was yet held in servitude. If enslaved, she was doubly horrifically abused.

In all walks of life, she was raped and beaten, and usually had no means of escape.

She was denied even the most personal choices.

Her work wasn't even called work.

Every structural and institutional barrier was aligned against her, was constructed to stifle her, to deny her, to suppress her—and if necessary, to crush her.

She could have given up. She could have succumbed. She could have accepted that this was how the world worked, that this was how it always had worked.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She pursued every possible means of emancipation and empowerment. She risked her life for others, and she risked it for her very existence.

She was raped.

She was beaten.

She was murdered.

She was told that she hadn't been raped.

She was told to be silent or she would be beaten.

She was told to take it, all of it, or she would be murdered.

Nevertheless, she persisted.


Even when she finally began to crack open doors, she risked being raped, beaten, or murdered.

At school.

At work.

At leisure.

At home.

In spaces public and private.

By strangers, acquaintances, friends, family, and husbands.

She had to fight structural and institutional barriers, and she had to face the risks of rape, beating, and murder, and that was just to get to and stay on a field of competition where she had not been welcomed, and which was deliberately tilted against her.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

Her strength threatened the weak.

Her inspiration was derided or ignored.

Her artistry was trivialized.

Her genius was belittled.

Her achievements were credited to others.

She was treated as a child.

She was told she was wasting her time.

She was told she was wasting the time of others.

She was told that she didn't belong.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She worked twice as hard to make half as much.

She was passed over for promotions that went to people half as qualified.

She was patronized and told what she had earned had been but given to her.

She was told her place was in the kitchen and bedroom.

She was demonized for having ambition.

She was scorned for daring to be smart and tenacious.

She was criticized for having compassion.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She was told to be sexy, then was called a slut.

She was told to be strong, then was called a bitch.

She was told to be independent, then was told she wasn't a team player.

She was made to bear the burden not only of her own personal choices, but of men's, also.

She was told even her own body wasn't her own.

Her agency, her individualism, her very being made men bristle in anger and tremble in fear.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She rescued explorers whose names became household words.

She was born enslaved, and helped the enslaved find freedom.

She crawled through the carnage of war, to comfort and heal men suffering from their own monstrosities.

She was kicked to the ground for demanding to be heard.

She was jailed for sitting down.

She led historic movements that made others legends.

She was shot in the head and survived to lead the fight to prevent others from being shot.

She did every little thing, every single day, without thought of recognition or appreciation, because it needed to be done.

She stood up for strangers even when they didn't stand up for her.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She gave birth to every one of us.

She was told she was incomplete if she never gave birth.

She was defined by her anatomy.

She was condescended to and derided and insulted and invalidated in so many ways, so many times, that she could have taken it for granted.

She learned to see it in how she was seen.

She learned to see it in how she wasn't seen.

The history she made was omitted from the history books.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

She never gave up.

She never stopped caring.

She never stopped thinking.

She never stopped learning.

She never stopped loving.

She never stopped demanding what was right, for others and for herself.

In the face of historic disaster, in the face of crushing despair, she rose up and led millions to rise beside her.

She gave people hope.

She never stopped striving to make this a better world for everyone.

And it will be, because of her.

She was warned.

She was given an explanation.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

The dresstag story, installment #2

the dresstag story continues . . .

the first official dresstag, made at Me & Ollie's cafe, Portsmouth, NH

from my daily dress journal
click here to see more

first dresstag placed

4. when did you start dresstagging?

it was Labor Day of 2011. I was in Portsmouth, NJ with my daughter, Maya when we had stumbled upon a package of charming origami paper. In the past months I had mastered the act of making an origami dress, using the folded dresses in collages.   I was also had been intensely working with different size origami dresses with my daily dress journals.  It seemed a natural step to start leaving them in different places!!

as i folded a dress Maya made this lovely cicada

some i hide in books . . .

When I started ‘the dress project’ back in 2006, I saw the dress as the mark of Virginia, like the mark of Zorro.  I built dresses to celebrate something beauty or protest an injustice. Years later the origami dress was a smaller, more manageable dress to leave behind.  But as i played with the origami paper in Portsmouth I liked the idea of using the dresstag as a vehicle of good fortune.

i made this dress in protest
for  the crazy amount of fencing
and 'stay down' signs

while visiting my hometown I came across an old path thru a ravine that I took many times as a kid, to get to the beach.

the idea that they needed to put up this many fences, creating such an eye sore, really irked me. 

5. why are they called ‘dresstag’s??

From the first dress that I left behind I was hooked. I felt that this new endeavor needed a name.   

may this dress bring u a smile

hope this dress keeps you warm ~ put on a car with the bumper sticker saying, "hate is not a family value"

may this dress bring u ur dreams come true ~ placed in an ice cream shop in the bershires

There was a street art/ graffiti aspect to this act of dropping dresses, even though they were small and carried good fortune.  Looking to the jargon from the graffiti world I considered dressbombs/ dressbombing. However I didn’t like a violent, destructive word attached to these dresses.  There is much literature about how using violent language adds to the negativity and violence in our lives.  My aim was to add positive energy, so with the aid of many friends I decided on dresstag.  This name alluded to street art as well as to the dresses that are made, sold and worn. 

dresstagging makes it to the MOMA!!!!

 6. how do you come up with the ‘fortune’??

I usually don’t have any preconceived idea about what I am going to write.  By the time I finish folding the dress I have an idea of what fortunes I will write.  I have noticed that many times I make a dress with the intention that I myself might need at that moment., like courage, clarity, strength.  Interestingly those dresstags usually get the most responses on FB?!?!?  maybe on those day there is a more universal need for a certain intention?!?!?

may this dress bring u satisfaction 

Next installment will be about the places that the dresstags have gone and the directions that these treasures have lead me.  Also if you have any questions about this practice , or any questions about my art either leave them below in the comment area, or on facebook or email me . . .

thanks for reading!! 

peace