I sent my almost-daily email to a weaver friend. A surprising amount of honest revelations come out when I write to her; honest not because I'm otherwise lying but I feel the need to be constantly aspiring; revelations because these are thoughts I don't realize I have until I'm typing the very words. She has become my confessor of sorts.
(Sorry, I read Geraldine Brooks' "Year of Wonders" last week, and am reading Joanna Harris' "Holy Fools" this week, so I'm thinking in a strange vocabulary, unwittingly reverting to my Convent School self by fits and starts. But not grudgingly. OK, I'll stop, but you should have met me during my Jane Austin phase in the early 80's!!)
This morning, I was surprised to see these words appear on my screen:
"Many have been staggered by my sticking to plain weave for seven years without even getting into color and weave. I've been weaving mostly twill in the subsequent seven, and still intend to continue, though I would like to look into shadow, as I tend to go on about it. I think shadow weave is a great compromise for my continued interest in plain, my guilt for not attempting color and weave, but with a bit more compositional possibilities. I prefer deep rather than broad, so I'm fine with what I do. There are tons of structures I've never woven, and I probably won't get around to, but part of me is fine about that. A small part of me worries perhaps there is a weave structure that I would love better than twill or shadow, but that I just haven't stumbled upon it. Now that would be a travesty. Or will it?"
This morning, I'm thinking, "No, it won't."