Friday, October 24, 2014
This Week, In No Particular Order
the many-grays piece, I still liked it so much I thought maybe I could weave another 50cm of it. So the cute warp won't turn into wow pieces.
The idea of putting my name on non-wows troubles me; is it pride, aspiration, frustrations with indecision, or a struggle between productivity vs creativity? Can I only wow myself by weaving fussy drafts?
Laura pondered a related subject. Nowadays I'm in the minority lamenting perfection getting a bad wrap. For me it's part of dumbing down of everything, of patting ourselves on our backs for participating. For me it's a no brainer beause it is I who disappoint: my skills, physique, knowledge, memory, or relying on memory and not checking. Even though I see the merit in working more spontaneously, especially its therapeutic effects, (which is why I play around with drawing and mixed media,) it's not for me when I weave, particularly when making utilitarian merchandises, which my weaving is. Maybe it's a Japanese thing.
Although wow factor I look for is not the same as perfection. It's more! Oh, and I missed the train-of-though connection.
I've also been thinking of photographing textiles. I can put together words to describe what I hope to see, but what about how I photograph? I like close-ups with shallow depth of field; I enjoy shooting them, and I enjoy looking at them. It's not that I don't try bigger whole-piece shots, but I'm not good with those, so I thought I might give them a go. I don't have a whole lot of my weaving, either; ones I have are cotton pieces representing issues I need to consider. A new piece would give me another option. Which is why I put the cute warp on Jack.
There's been another bad news for Nelson's visual arts; details will be posted soon. It means I have only The Suter as my outlet now and first I want to restock them, but then I will have to consider an online shop. Finally. Where I would need the overall-look pics.
This week has been an awkward physical-and-mental pacing week, but now that I've written this much, things seem to have found their own places. Without my help. And they are loosely connected? Goodness me.