Saturday, May 7, 2011

In the Madness of Insomnia

At around 5.32AM this morning, after an hour and a half online, the last half an hour spent on detachedly gazing at Google Images of "weaving", the sets punctuated by the occasional appearance of Hugo Weaving dressed as an ethereal king, a picture sprung in my mind; it was a detail of a tied-weave cloth in mercerized cotton, but then the vision zoomed in deeper and deeper like a disease or molecular physics doco, to the point the 2/60 cottons were as thick as [picture me with palms held about a foot to a foot and a half apart].

What I took from it was that I have become more interested in the "internal" structures of cloth than the surface appearance. (I don't know why I feel compelled to use "internal", and in quotes, as "external structure" sounds like an oxymoron.)  I don't know what this means.  I don't know if it's true. And it sure as heck doesn't mean I'm no longer the flat-cloth weaver nor, heaven forbid, the shallow person.  I'm not interested in the so-called 3D textiles; they are occasionally nice when other weavers weave them, but aesthetically they don't seduce me.

What does it mean?

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