Kiwis love power tools any time but this summer has been an exceptionally robust season of building/rebuilding/refurbishing/demolishing on C Street and surrounds, resulting in power tools of all manners chirping in stereo for the last four (?) months, which finally got to me. The last three weeks or so my shoulders and knees started shaking, especially badly in the mornings. (Full disclosure: we, too, used our tiny water blastser to wash a decade-plus's worth of build up on our concrete patio around Christmas.)
I tried Podcasts and Youtube at full volume, closed all windows, doors and all but one set of curtains, (thank goodness it's been a cool summer,) and draped thick fabric everywhere to absorb the noise, but the shaking wouldn't stop. I also went downstairs and let Telemann serenade me but my legs were shaking so badly I had to crawl off the bench and lie behind the loom a while.
I was getting on my nerves. How "frail" can I be? I tried depression-beating techniques to no avail. While depression, you could say, live in my head but the noise outside it, and they were relentless. (To be sure, I wasn't depressed.) I spent a few half days in bed in utter darkness reading stuff online, and got around to good articles I had bookmarked all summer, so it wasn't a complete loss. I knew in my head at least some of these jobs will be finished "soon", and neighbours will be pleased, and that's a good thing for C Street, but did I mention it was relentless? I didn't go outside to check on my pots on the patio for ten days and missed the first of the late corn flower opening I had waited for since Ben's summer break.
Anyhoo, exasperated by my inertness, I tried various little things and reorganizing my To Do piles got me out of the funk this time. (To be frank it's been a little weird because my emotions have been switched off and at times I feel like I'm in autodrive.) I started fringing, which I could manage with the twister, and I finished the two hellebore cotton pieces.
When I made the red-orange warp, (the gold was for something else I inserted here to add interest,) I deliberately kept the hues of the warp colors to a very limited neighbourhood on the color wheel so I could experiment with harmony, (as in the yellow-orange wefts,) and complementary, (purples!), but the last few years I've been so intrigued by reds, pinks and oranges together I changed my mind. Humble pie. (I learned the origin of that expression from a Tony Robinson doco. :-D)
Anyway, and you don't hear this here very often, these are nice and I like them. Nice big size, lovely weigh/drape/hand. I will be weaving more hellebores, or another design, in cottons for sure. But, also, I made them, so technique is rough, but I'm not dwelling on that. I repeat this not to convince you but me; I have become more and more aware of how much time/energy/head space I have left to make things in my life, and I want to keep moving.
I'm still astonished and mystified by the Year (Or 18 Months?) I Didn't Weave triggered by a bad project. It was astonishing because I noticed only after a while; I had no explanation, felt so dispassionate, not particularly disappointed, and utterly honest. I can still recall the calmness I felt the whole time concentrating on mixed media drawing and knitting. I wasn't worried if I gave up weaving altogether, and remember Mom finding me almost callous when I said that, because I was supposed to be besotted by weaving. And looking back, a degree of detachment, with which I used to hold my weaving long time ago, is a good thing for me right now.
Make no mistake, I am Japanese, so I don't buy into bad technique being "design features". It's not in my DNA, as they say, but this is more like forgiving myself. I'm focusing elsewhere - more on "design" whatever I mean when I use that word.
Ooops, we had a few days' reprieve but the power tools are back again. But I do better in the afternoons, so washing or weaving. We also picked 24kg of Roma tomatoes on the weekend and I slow-roasted 8kg in the pasta-sauce style yesterday; I want do the rest in oven-dried style if I can remember what I did last year, which was a much hotter summer. Low temp and oven on forever, perhaps.
Two things before I go: look up an art critic named Jerry Saltz on Youtube; he talks about artists having to show up and do the work. "Build and they will come," is one of his favorite quotes, it appears. He also says artists, (=makers) have to tell ourselves we are geniuses sometimes.
And there's this I found yesterday: Diedrick Brackens' tapestries defy tapestry weave conventions, but they make such an impression on me. And they are big so I bet it's awe-inspiring to see in person.