We went berry picking on New Year's Eve morning. At the back I found crates wrapped up in plastic wraps, with twists for extra strength. To me, the lines remind me of architectural/industrial designs; it's pretty in a trans-lucent, "regular but not regimented" way. 

I've become smitten with some of Rachel Beckman's work and started reading all the way back from her first post in October 2008.  Early on she had an assignment where she needed to photograph something, the same thing, for the duration of a month and post them and then design/create a piece based on this experience.  She ended up creating a lovely Ikat piece, which is what Cally discovered in the first place, and I decided to emulate part of it.  That is, photographing my messy lettuce patch for the month of January and posting them here. 
This was my patch as seen in the morning of January 1.

I chose the lettuce patch because I thought it could embarrass me into tidying it, but for now I've got the Sketchbook Project that is dire, so I'll have to showing you what a slob I am.  And as regards garden-messiness, I have developed quite a thick skin so what's new is I'm not only talking about it now, but am actually showing it.  It'll only take up to half a day so I will get on to it shortly.  

I am a gazer, and by that I mean, I don't pay intellectual attention while I'm looking at them, but I slump into an emotionally slumber. I just gaze and be in love for the moment.  I learned in my drawing class that by consciously and conscientiously looking at things, and for me, many, many times over months and years, there are things about the object/subject I learn without knowing I'm learning, that known bits bypass words and understanding and sitting relaxed on the couch in my brain as if they've always been there.  And when I draw, there are things I learn that even bypass the eyes, but go straight from hand/arm to the couch.  I never had descent eye-hand coordination in sports, but I guess drawing is allowing me have that kind of experience.  I think also getting used to one's looms and tools do similar things, but when I weave I'm preoccupied with what is being woven I never has time to consider how my body/brain were learning.  

But shooting my lettuce patch for a month - what's that gonna do to my weaving?  It's not as if I gavz at or observe my mess, so there hasn't been much learning so far.  In fact, I go outside, (my lettuce patch is about three meters from my door), shoot a few, rush back inside, and upload.  But I'm going to do this for a month.  I may become interested in some details, or the structure or design of something.  Or I may not knowingly do anything with these, except to eat what I grew.

I will, though, photograph the patch and upload for one month, and that's a tiny bit of discipline I think I can manage.  And on January 31, I can feel good I'll have finished one small project already. 
Besides, who doesn't love lettuce??
This is January 2.


Rachel Beckman said...

Thank you for such a sweet mention and description of my work! Good luck with your picture-taking, I hope it helps; it's always amazing to look at the small changes of everyday things over time.

Meg said...

Hi, Rachel. I hope I have enough patience for observation. I seem to want to improve it, to make it pretty, so the series will become a little more... acceptable? I'm interfering with the subject of my observation, but at least in my case, it's a good thing because we can eat fresh salads every day.