HOW TO MAKE DRAPES WITH LINING : PUEBLO TENT AND AWNING
How To Make Drapes With Lining
- Practical advice on a particular subject; that gives advice or instruction on a particular topic
- (How To’s) Multi-Speed Animations
- A how-to or a how to is an informal, often short, description of how to accomplish some specific task. A how-to is usually meant to help non-experts, may leave out details that are only important to experts, and may also be greatly simplified from an overall discussion of the topic.
- Providing detailed and practical advice
- Arrange (cloth or clothing) loosely or casually on or around something
- Adorn, cover, or wrap (someone or something) loosely with folds of cloth
- (drape) the manner in which fabric hangs or falls; "she adjusted the drape of her skirt"
- Let (oneself or a part of one's body) rest somewhere in a casual or relaxed way
- (drape) arrange in a particular way; "drape a cloth"
- (drape) curtain: hanging cloth used as a blind (especially for a window)
- An additional layer of different material attached to the inside of a garment or curtain to make it warmer or hang better
- a protective covering that protects an inside surface
- liner: a piece of cloth that is used as the inside surface of a garment
- A layer of different material covering the inside surface of something
- providing something with a surface of a different material
- brand: a recognizable kind; "there's a new brand of hero in the movies now"; "what make of car is that?"
- engage in; "make love, not war"; "make an effort"; "do research"; "do nothing"; "make revolution"
- give certain properties to something; "get someone mad"; "She made us look silly"; "He made a fool of himself at the meeting"; "Don't make this into a big deal"; "This invention will make you a millionaire"; "Make yourself clear"
- The manufacturer or trade name of a particular product
- The making of electrical contact
- The structure or composition of something
how to make drapes with lining - The Juppy
The Juppy Baby Walker (Original-No lining)
The Juppy Baby Walker is simply designed with safety in mind. The Juppy has received an overwhelming amount of positive product reviews from moms who have purchased it. The ultimate impact will be to see the parent go from the arduous task of bending to the immensely enjoyable act of seeing their baby walk while they themselves stand erect. Unlike traditional baby walkers The Juppy is a parent assisted baby walker which eliminates all of the dangers of walkers with wheels. The unique design of The Juppy eliminates the problems associated with similar products. For example other parent assisted walkers do not have the crotch piece which is essential in keeping the baby from involuntarily lifting its arms. It also helps to keep the babies arms by its side and therefore the baby learns balance on its own. No more falling down stairs or reaching for dangerous objects because The Juppy requires the parents' assistance at all times. - The Juppy is easily transportable. - It fits in your purse. - It s easy for grandparents to use. - No assembly required. - Suitable for boys and girls. - One size fits all (baby weight not to exceed 30lbs). - Adjustable straps for the best fit and height. - Made from 100% cotton that is machine washable. The Original Juppy is featured without a lining to ensure that it's affordable for all families.
The Bogart Girl
Longing is like a rose that waits for the moon to open itself but needs the warmth of the sun to unfold its shy petals and so remains in bud until it rots in the cold fall rain and drops to the damp soil. Waits another two seasons to push its declaration of desire out through the swelling buds of spring. No words spoken, none needed. Longing lives in a state of perpetual suspension. The moment of being satiated it is no longer longing at all but something harder, something finished. Longing itself is never finished. Longing never abandons the impossible. It's never done working our hopes into something smoking while we are drunk on our subconsciousness. I walk outside of everyone else. Like a ghost I walk between you all and you can't see me. I brush your forehead with something like the voice of who you have abandoned to this strange place and you twitch uncomfortably; this social sphere of other disingenuous people are all so very important to themselves. I streak past this vignette of you sitting with your legs crossed, talking like an adult with other non-adults and I know who you really are underneath your rice powder and your androgynous suit of second hand wool. I know what you want. I know who you kiss in your sleep and I know what you won't ever say out loud. But you can't see me here, this ghost that I am because I am a faded nothing. You are speaking glibly of music and life and you sound authoritative and keen. Your friends lean in periodically and they flash in the sun like exotic iridescent birds. They are all so pretty and colorful and somehow from a distance you can't even tell what anyone is saying because you're in your head all the time. I'm there with you. There must have been a time when you were solid like flesh. Solid with the desires of a natural person. Sex drugs and rock-n-roll baby. Yeah! Yet no one can remember. Kisses should be something you dream of and maybe never experience because in real life tongues are wet and demanding and can never deliver, truly, what is asked of them. I know that's what you're thinking as everyone talks. Everyone else is asking for physical satisfaction, but you, little peep, you keep hoping that the body will deliver the spirit and it doesn't seem possible that spit has enough power to deliver anything besides mono. Everyone you know is seeking that dive of exploration- that breathless physical release- the great heave of everything until skin is just skin and breath comes so quickly no one can catch it. I hear you. I hear what you are thinking. That girl who lets herself be tied up by adolescent boys in a closet and toyed with; violated by inanimate objects so much colder than skin; you think she is weak and you are scared for her because you are scared for yourself that that's all there is to it all- a cruel consumption of body and the empty souls left all over the floor afterwords like spent bullet shells. You are afraid that this weak girl is much stronger than you are. You nod your head to your friends, you hear their bold escapades, their colorful embrace of what is natural and you, you-my little flint of stone, you wish for no embrace if it is going to end in devouring what little you have left of the spirit you stole back from the abuse. If it means burning up the last of your safety. I hear you. Because I am right next to you, touching your temple with my drapes of air which you mistake for little rushes of breeze. You covet that naturalness your friends have and yet you are outside of it, unable to open it, this gift that everyone else has- to be natural- to open- to break bud- to burst out into your corporeal self like it was a god given gift but you sit here like a strong being and pretend you don't care. You don't care. You build this ice-princess persona to cover up the fact that you are more like the morning frost that turns to dew at the slightest hint of light and dries up into bright morning. With it you wear your men's suits. You put ties on and I see what you attempt. I see it and I know what is underneath. You think you can hide in this androgyny because your breasts are so small anyway- that you can become a non-gender and therefore not answer to the woman you are meant to become. Not answer the siren call of teen life. Of burgeoning adulthood. You are ashamed of what you really want: to be longed for. All you really dream of is to be appreciated- loved even- but safely from a distance of at least a foot and a half because you have never known an undemanding love. You want the boy in the cafe to see you, to really see you- as I do- and to have the urge to protect you like you are precious and beautiful and something rare. You want him to long for you without violence, without that violence that bodies demand and desire. You are afraid of it. You smell it when it comes. You smell it five miles away and you run like a wild beast about to be brought down by carnivorous appet
Girl with a Pearl Earring
"It is always the beauty of this portrait head, its purity, freshness, radiance, sensuality that is singled out for comment. Vermeer himself, as Gowing notes, provides the metaphor: she is like a pearl. Yet there is a sense in which this response, no matter how inevitable, begs the question of the. painting, and evades the claims it makes on the viewer. For to look at it is to be implicated in a relationship so urgent that to take an instinctive step backward into aesthetic appreciation would seem in this case a defensive , an act of betrayal and bad faith. It is me at whom she gazes, with real, unguarded human emotions, and with an erotic intensity that demands something just as real and human in return. The relationship may be only with an image, yet it involves all that art is supposed to keep at bay." Edward A. Snow, A Study of Vermeer, 1979 An In-Depth Study by Jonathan Janson The Girl with a Pearl Earring is universally recognized as one of Johannes Vermeer's absolute masterworks. After more than a century of study, the work still poses significant questions. Who was the sitter and was the painting even intended as a portrait? Why had it remained in complete obscurity until it was rediscovered in 1882 and sold for the price of a reproduction? Was it a part of a pendant? Did Vermeer sell the painting during his lifetime? Why was the original background a deep transparent green rather than the black we see today? Was the pearl a real one? What significance did the turban have? Which painting procedures did Vermeer employ? Which pigments did he use? Who Was She? Maria Vermeer (eldest daughter), Magdalena van Ruijven (patron's only daughter), or Griet (maid)? Even though the young girl who has looked over her shoulder at viewers for more that 300 years cannot be objectively identified, scholars and laymen alike have often speculated who she may have been. "Set against a dark, undefined background, and dressed in an exotic costume, this striking young woman cannot be placed in any specific context. She holds no attributes that might, for example, identify her as an allegorical figure, perhaps a muse or a sibyl." Even the young girl's age is not entirely clear. "Almost certainly, it is this very lack of a historic or iconographic framework that conveys such immediacy to all who view her. " Of Vermeer's 40 or so representations of women, the Girl with a Pearl Earring is the most broadly rendered. Very little attention is given to the biographical incidents of physiognomy, primary requisites of formal portraiture of the time. One modern critic went so far as to state that Vermeer seems to have lost his patience while painting faces and treated them as if they were still-lives. However, owing to the intensely intimate nature of Vermeer's paintings, it has been often supposed that Vermeer represented members of his own family in his compositions, even though scholarship maintains that the Girl with a Pearl Earring was not conceived as a portrait in the 17th c. Dutch sense of the term. Gerard Ter Borch, a fellow Dutch artist whose subjects and refined technique are believed to have influenced hthe younger Vermeer, frequently used members of his own family as models, in particular his step-sister Gesina. Perhaps this fact adds to the feeling of tenderness in Terborch's feminine figures. The economic advantage of having ones relative pose for long hours would be obvious. "Turbans were a popular fashionable accessory in Europe as early as the 15th century. During the war against the Turks, the remote way of life and foreign dress of the 'enemy of Christendom' proved to be very fascinating." 1 Vermeer, as well as many other European painters, had obviously enjoyed introducing an exotic note in their paintings and welcomed the possibility to show off their technical prowess. The appearance of the young girl's Turkish turban within the context of Vermeer's seemingly quintessential Dutch oeuvre should not come as a complete surprise. Other objects of Turkish origin may be associated with the painter. Some of the carperts which appear as table coverings in Vermeer’s interiors (contemporary painters rarely represented these precious imports lying on the ground where in reality they were usually placed) are of Turkish origin. They must have been appreciated for their sensual floral motifs and the large mass of warm red color both which which enlivened and otherwise chaste geometrical interiors. It is likely that the piece of fabric used for the pendant of Vermeer’s makeshift turban , whatever its proper use may have been, appears in other pictures by the artist. Its material and the light yellow color with a blue border color seem to be very comparable to the one seen draping from the still-life in The Art of Painting. It is difficult to make an precise idea of its material. It is rendered too summarily in the Girl with a Pearl Earring, but if we are to