Further Thinking of Syrie

In early- or mid-February 2020, I hunkered down to reacquaint myself with the long-on-hold Syrie project. I imagined it would be a great 2020 project. I spent a week hunting down my notes, posts, and relics connected to the project; read; relearned; sorted loose ends to keep/discard; re-label relevant posts; and finally started a draft post.

At first it was a good distraction from the yet-named plague, too, which I didn't think would be a big deal in New Zealand, like the others in recent times, but with a lockdown imminent in Italy and the constant reminder diabetics were in increased danger, my attention moved away from the project.
 

My life-long interest in the plight of the Palestinians has remained, but news, and especially still photographs of refugees everywhere, wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Sudan, Rohingya genocide, the Southern border of USA, and Ukraine, Türkiye/Syria earthquake, and the plight of women in Iran and Afghanistan, strengthen my resolve to work on this project, maybe more than one, while my focus/attention shifts from war to refugees to women's place in society.  

 

For whatever reason I revisit the project, and the draft, this time of year like clockwork. In 2021, I did a massive revision of the draft, ending up with a skeleton of what I had deposited in 2020, erasing the many segue identifying the meandering paths I had taken. To avoid  further culling of my thought-history, I'm posting what's left of the Feb 2020 draft for the record.  

 

* * * * *  

 

 "Syrie" has been on my mind, without urgency but making its presence known, hiding but also making sure I see her face in my periphery vision, or right in front of me blocking my way, sneering at the neglect it suffered, in the form of a small angry girl. I need to record how we got here in order to progress the project.

Origin:
Middle East was often a topic at our dinner table due to Dad's interest in this history and politics of the Middle East, the Holocaust, Palestine, Gaza, Golan Heights. As a kid, I was aware modern turmoil was never discussed in my convent school, even as we studied biblical Levant. As a youngish adult I was for a year a translator at the Syrian Embassy in Tokyo, a month after Syria ousted Palestinians to Lebanon.

I've wanted to work on a project based on all Dad taught me, what I've subsequently learned, how history continued in that region, but I wasn't sure what to focus on, and what to make on a loom. Then came Arab Spring, when I genuinely thought we were witnessing one giant step forward, but it was instead followed by a spate of government retaliation, military coups, and civil wars. Which as you recall lead to explosive numbers of refugees in all directions, citizen groups helping as well as opposing them, but in the worst instances, the media reducing their plight to a handful of photogenic children. 

 
Buildings and Windows:

Early on, I was irate when image search of "Syria" yielded photos of eerily silent, almost interchangeable achromatic photos of city scape, buildings and rubble. (I should have kept screenshots, because in 2021 the situation is different.) Not that I wanted to see them, but I found so few of crying, screaming, bleeding, fleeing, and dyeing people; only the bombed out buildings.

I observed how the media covered Syria and the subsequent refugee crisis, and began contrasting what they reported vs. what they showed. I didn't record what I observed, but I grew more aware of the emotional manipulation and twisting of the coverage. 

 
Silent photos of the charred buildings stuck in my mind, and this is how I started developing my first idea of tall buildings with gaps where windows used to be. Rather than a monochromatic, monolithic, clean version in the news coverage, I wanted to use all the colors of flames/fire for the walls of the burning building, and gray and black for the windows for the absence of humans and noise. I also contemplated inserting shadows of humans or ghosts in the windows, or spilling out of them.  Not all the panels/buildings would stand straight up, some would be falling uncomfortably on top of the viewers, while others will have fallen and crumbled and obstruct the viewers' path. The media went with the silent photos, I was aiming for the bloody, sooty, loud, messy, smelly uncomfortable version.

This would also be an easy transition from Pillars visually and technically; the buildings could be in fancy Syria-inspired twill, (Umayyad Mosque, shell-inlay, Damascas Ware patterns, Palmyra archeology...) which would have taken some time to work out, but all structural elements, panels and the windows, would be rectangular.

Refugees:
Following the Middle Eastern and African refugee influx into mainly Europe, (as covered by MSM) came refugees on the Southern boarders of the US, child separation, families divided, records "lost", separate deportation, babies on trial, sicknesses and deaths, "undocumented", dreamers, aliens, (I was a legal alien for a decade,) documents, testimonies, words, how law categorizes/labels humans. How the heck does a babe in diapers testify in court in a foreign language? However you categorize, each and every human has a life story. How do we record them?  

I started to see another option for the project. I became obsessed with visualizing a two-year-old's testimony in court: how does the court stenographer type it? What does it look like printed out? I see a lot of spit, /m/ and /b/, blank terrified stares, chubby finger pointing, perhaps. I smell milk and pee and maybe even a little sick. 

I tried to visualize ways I could represent great number of refugees' stories, their testimonies. A big red, (blood, but why?) scroll with text lines in charcoal/black, sometimes mixed with childish doodles. And drools. Perhaps maps. Texts/lines in different languages, sizes, orientations. Maybe many smaller "pages", perhaps even bound in a "book". Perhaps with torn/burnt, or missing parts. For exhibitions, I do like to submit whopping big pieces, as large as the venue allows.

How much research am I willing to do to learn other languages and scripts, albeit in a narrow context?  *Do I search the Internet for real stories?

*How about the bureaucratic intermediaries' influences? 

*How accurate are their recollections? Have the stories changed in the retelling? Have details been forgotten?  

*Have the stories been colored by other factors, like difference in perspectives, influence of accompanying adults, interpreters and other government workers? 

*Border/social worker/interpreter/bureaucrat may not have the cultural understanding, in part or as a whole; have they maliciously changed the stories?

*What about the untranslatables?

*What constitutes the true testimony? 

 

Does the languages/scripts need be real? How about acemic writing?Is it still true if only represented in acemic writing?

 

What about that old idea of hiding codes in the structure of weaving?

The Name:
I wrote previously I call this project "Syrie" temporarily to get away from the 1980s American "Syria/Libya=Bad" mentality. Of course, Syrie is French; France colonized the country, which brings a whole different set of baggage, but for now, it's a handy, symbolic label that covers all kinds of thoughts/ideas/feelings associated with this project, so I shall keep it until I need a different one.

/Insert Title/

I finished the needlepoint piece yesterday. I can't take pics today because it's been raining cats, dogs and monkeys. Suffice it to say, it's rough compared to last year's, disappointing, but more adventurous, which we're supposed to be with these experimentation, n'est-ce pas?

Also, Ben's beanie is finally under way. Last night I had five false starts; I hope this is about the right circumference. I could learn how to do this correctly from the start, but heck, if many false starts work... :-D (It's a nice saturated blue-green; a tad greener than the sweater.)    

* * * * *

Last year I played around with weaving Syrie for RAW, but of course I was nowhere near even starting it. When I didn't hear about this exhibition April/May this year, (the show was in June last year,) I was disappointed, wondering if it was unsuccessful, but it's on a little later, and in a better time of the year for art shows.

On re/reading the specs: "RAW aims to showcase works:

• created by people who have no formal or traditional art training
• that express individuality and inventiveness
• that are ‘RAW’ – uncooked by cultural and artistic influences"

First point, check; second point, check. But the third; I happen to think humans can't separate themselves from the "culture" they live in. Then there's my case: Japan, convent school, family configuration, Minnesota, New Zealand, everything I've ever read/heard/researched/seen/touched, what else? I realize I'm allowed to pick influence I like and discard others, except they are not separate components, just colors that make up the picture that is me. It's hard to separate/purge/keep some without the whole. I have no idea what I'm going to do, but I'd love to take part. I regret I didn't go see the show last year, but I decided to think that is a good thing; I'll be unencumbered by influences. This is due early September.

* * * * *

I'm also taking part in a semi-secret project for a local art charity; suffice it to say I have to put it on a 12"x12" canvas. I've pulled out my six framed Go Figure pieces; I enjoyed making them, I still like them, and maybe an idea or three will emerge from gazing at them. This is due in, oh gee, 2.5 weeks.

* * * * *

I rethreaded some more of the cotton warp on Wednesday, about 2/17 of the width; I've done 8/17 in all. I can't wait to weave the hellebore pieces, and the rethreading itself is not bad but the sitting on the tiny, folding "fishing" chair is hard on the old bod. Maybe I can get another 2/17 done today.

* * * * *

I also want to zoom right ahead and move onto the commission blanket before it gets warmer/hot; an added incentive is a new commission, a toddler blanket, which can be worked on the same warp. The warp colors have been decided in my head, but the threading needs to be versatile, one for an elegant couch blanket for a grownup and another drag blanket for a baby, gender not yet known, whose parents are from an exotic land. I ordered six colors for the latter weft, so the commission money is already spent, but this is going to be a new experience for me. More later when I start working on them.   

* * * * *

I weeded about one-third of my hellebore patch recently, and they are coming into bloom already, but we've had a lot of rain and some wind due to rapid temp changes, things haven't worked out well, until yesterday afternoon when it was perfectly chilly, cloudy, still, just the way I like. But I was determined to finish the needlepoint, so that's what I did. Ah, nothing like being sensible.

Speaking of rain, remember the unknown person who emailed me for coffee? Well, I couldn't meet her on the first appointed time because I got overheated in a meeting that Wednesday, and I was half an hour late in letting her know I wasn't coming. My bad. We had a second date last Friday, and I decided to take a different bus line, so I looked for the but stop, which took me nearly 45 minutes to get to, (I knew this and was prepared,) arrived 15 minutes early. The bus came a couple of minutes late, and drove right passed me in bucketing rain! I rang the bus company, rather desperate, the rain was coming down even harder, and there is little recourse in Nelson in these situations, so they sent a young ops manager to drive me to the cafe. Which was nice; I planned to ring a cab and take the receipt to the bus office to demand a refund.

I arrived at the cafe between 10-15 minutes late, drenched, a black Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in my sister's Soccer Mom puffy coat. I should have asked the two ladies already seated if either was she, but I didn't because I was a wet and embarrassed, figuring if she must have some idea what I look like. Neither approached me, I texted her twice, and waited for 45 minutes, all to no avail, and haven't heard since. It was a little disappointing because it's always exciting to meet another maker, massage each other's right hemisphere and talk making, but I tried the best I could. So it was nice to get the commission two days later. The weaving goddess taketh; the weaving goddess giveth.

I'll post process pics of the needlepoint as soon as I get descent pics, (not to mention, I know, '18 Japan pics...)

Story-Telling

I don't believe intentions/background stories appear in artworks, unless of course there exists a  (visible) connection between them. Sometimes I suspect a smart teacher came up with the idea of head stuff behind artwork so we don't despair every our work comes short of our expectations. And for good PR. In my case, they help me see many options early in a project and to concentrate on the good ones later.

I also love reading others' head stuff most of the time. I imagine they nudge me to see artworks from somewhere near the makers' perspectives; sometimes they help me find different/multiple/even contrasting merits. Some distracts from what I might otherwise perceive as technical shortcomings. Do they in turn cloud instinctive/("uneducated"?) reactions? Perhaps, but I tend to remember artworks, (or take away impressions,) better if they come with good head stuff with a semi-visible connection.  

I think a lot, sometimes, and talk a lot and I'm long-winded. I can and do create whole scenarios in my head from hearing snippets; as an only kid I made up stories inside my head to entertain myself, although it was my sister who had an imaginary friend, not me. I was always the main character in my stories. 

Re. work, I like to package my truths in entertaining packages. There was a time I worried I'm better at stories than in weaving, and strove to shut out the voices and sit silently at the loom. Nowadays sometimes this happens automaically for no other reason than my hearing being not great. Also true that nowadays I try to distract from techniques. Although it's still about the work and not about me; I want you to handle the weaving.

I had deliberately not posted a pic of my Syrie warp, because I'm still don't know what that might look like, and I hadn't worried about it until in the last month I've shown it to and spoke about it to a few friends, folks who know art and/or weaving. I sense a latent foreboding bubbling as a result of observing live humans observing me showing and speaking about it. As opposed to the one-way announcement that is this blog. I'd like to get that warp on the loom before I go, but if that doesn't happen, I'll do it after; but this performance anxiety is best gotten rid of ASAP.

After my third false start on Mom's murky-colored cowl, I remembered a plan I had in winter to knit a really weird, really big 3D something or rather in very saturated colors. (I should never have culled all of my not-soft wools!) The pictures in my head are weird, ugly, possibly in clashing colors, and the kind of thing I would tut-tut loudly if I saw it/them in a gallery, the kind of work even the best back stories can't save.

Mwuahahaha.

Still Here, Still the Same

It seems a lot, and not much, happened in the 24 days since I last posted. Let's see how much I can remember.

"Syrie"
I had much doubts about the merits of "Syrie" but somehow I managed to keep an eye on the calendar so I started concentrating on the practicalities, which to me meant working backwards. Gotta love the Mitsuhashi pragmatism.

First I made the warp. Because I am so bad at predicting how far a ball/cone goes, I wound one color until I ran out, then counted the number of "ends", wrote it down, and moved on to the next combination. "Combination", because one "end" usually consisted of thicker cotton or shiny silk plus my standard 20/2 cotton merc, in pairs. And if they are tiny, I'm not going to worry about knots. I designed the colors so I could put them in order from one end of the raddle to the other. Around this time I settled on roughly 24 inches in the reed; the wider the better for the look of the work, the narrower the better for weaving, so a compromise.

Then I started to worry I didn't have enough yarns for the warp, (I didn't) and dug further into silk and non-default-cotton boxes, which skewed the initial color distribution. I could rework the colors in the reed; a no brainer in my head, but no in my hands. I also decided on twill, (familiarity!) and 20EPI would result in a slightly stiffer than my usual cloth, and acceptable for the purpose. (The last one was more hoping than knowing.) Making the warp took four days, between two and four hours each day.

Then I sleyed as I combined the colors, knowing pulling the 21 meters on the warping mill though the reed to the back beam is going to be the toughest job in this project. Already different yarns were hugging each other, twisting, or going way astray. Also, I started diluting the original idea, as reducing the project to maybe one rectangle much like a pillar, but in red. It took me three days to sley.

As the RAW deadline approached, I pondered dilution vs postponement. This was a hard one as in the old days I managed to always make the deadline, delivering products undiluted. And I have to say, they all turned up OK to the best of my ability. But this idea, "Syrie", has lived inside my head for so many years, I didn't want to dilute it. (I also contemplated submitting one rectangle to RAW and then complete the initial project and submitting that to another exhibition.) Submission due came and early in the morning I emailed Lloyd to say I wasn't putting this project in this RAW, to which he replied, maybe next RAW.

Since then I've been carrying around the best books on tied weaves from living room to bedroom to basement and back up again without studying them. I don't want to rush this, I want to savor the making like I did "Pillars". But this is the next to go on the big loom.

Stuff - (edit) In this long post, this is the least consequential part.
Since then I've been tying up loose ends, so to speak. I've culled collage material; evacuated all art supplies but what I need for the daily abstracts from the living room, then reorganized art supplies, (I still have lots, but I've also used up lots.) I finally finished touching up my Santas and all that's left is the clear coat spray.

And while I had the paint out, I painted some cones green, another Christmasy idea I've had for ages.

One particularly ambitious day, I mended/patched six pairs of pants, including four pairs of our gardening pants, after having put in 20-person-hours between the two of us over Easter. (Ben's outside again just now.) My sewing machine is so unpredictable and it did this instead of triple zigzag and I wished I knew how that happened; it looks a little twilly, a little like Christmas trees.

Winter arrived rather suddenly on Tuesday and it was a good thing I booked to have my chimney cleaned on Wednesday. I washed the tiles all around the wood burner but the young chap left soot and ash, didn't clean the glass and didn't vacuum. I used to have it done in spring/summer, but once a neighbor told another neighbor he saw fire from my chimney, so I've been delaying calling until end of summer, which usually gives me two months waiting. But they do a much through job early on I'll resume booking early summer.

I made a mess making the chain out of Esther's warp, so I put it back on the warping board to even out the pulled bits.

That's all I can remember but I've been ironing a lot of Ben's shirts considering: he had three days off the week before Easter, replacing the dashboard of the candy car himself, and we spent the Easter holiday, (and he gets Tuesday off, something to do with NZ educational institutions,) either in PJs or gardening clothes. And already I have several in the ironing basket.

Cleaning out our closets and sorting/stashing my books are on my list. I almost started on my books last week, but I think I have weaving on my mind for next week. Though at the pace of a blind snail in the middle of the dark and stormy night, (remember I was going to bust my and mom's stash before 60?) I have been reducing my yarn and art supplies and there have been reorganization, being combined into a large box or split into smaller boxes, but that work and retrieval has been almost impossible with books that spilled out of bookshelves. Again. Not to mention there are few under the bed. Again. There is going to be a wine and book party here this winter.

The Suter
Yesterday was the last of the ten sessions of art class. The last two were spent trying to replicate, (and I mean copy, recreate,) an uninteresting-to-me landscape painting in acrylics. I felt physically sick and almost walked out several times each session. For yesterday I even prepared a van Gogh self-portrait, (with the ear bandage,) to work on but Mark put so much emphasis on replicating the colors I felt physically uncomfortable.

Still, I learned some stuff; it's one thing to be told with acrylics you start with the dark colors first and pile on lighter colors; completely another to try it; the old masters had superb dexterity to create precise paintings with tiny brushes; I tend to pile on acrylics thick, and Mark showed me how to blend with a dry brush.

Still, 90 minutes feels rushed, especially considering my transportation difficulties, making it either an all-day-in-town day or I have to take the bus home, which isn't a big deal but I'm lazy I'm making it so. I feel ambivalent about the course's match with me, though I'll miss nice women there I've come to know a tiny bit. And Mark is a New Zealand-nice chap. (You heard it here first; I coined it, like Minnesota-nice, but blokier,) but he loves New Zealand landscape paintings, really not my cup of milky Earl Gray. I'm not going back to at least the next session.

I took a shot of the Suter Shop's "textile" shelf two (?) weeks ago. The right half plus some used to be filled with textiles. I'm not sure if this is the change in their priorities I've been "seeing" or if other textile artists are withdrawing. They had four of my pieces on display, which shocked me because it couldn't be that they sold the rest, could it. But they had; they sold three in March, and I withdrew one, but I didn't know this until I got the paperwork later.

I had asked to withdraw everything anyway, however, because going to class every week and walking past the shelf, I was getting so tired of looking at the same old same old every Friday. In the end I left behind one small cashmere basket weave piece and brought home the rest.

I asked Ben what he thought about my volatile feelings about the Suter Shop, and he had a great idea: put in-your-face, art-gallery-ish stuff only at the Suter, and put "normal" "garment" pieces elsewhere or online. This made so much sense; it suits the venue these are things we look for in gallery shops; and it suits to differentiate my stuff there vs elsewhere. So I'm going to work really hard to make more of the clasped weft pieces in saturated colors.

I did one day, and managed 28cm. The thing is, I weave standing up on the four-shaft, (the breast beam is too high and I have to press extra hard on the treadles to lift the shafts while seated,) so I have to bend down and find the sweet spot on my glasses to clasp wefts. It's hard on the back and I manage 40cm only on a super good day. Yet I don't plan to charge that much more, if any, than other cashmeres of similar sizes, for now.

Because Ailsa the shop manager doesn't work on Fridays, Glenys, another long-time friendly person, (which in my mind, rightly or wrongly, makes her textile-friendly,) took care of the withdrawal. And by the way, she asked, did I know anyone who would be interested in a tapestry loom?

Tick.

Opportunely I was scheduled to have lunch with Pat so I asked her what to look for in using a tapestry loom to weave cashmere scarves. Besides the fact it's two shafts , i.e. all plain weave, we couldn't find too many minuses.

Tick.

And virtually no loom waste. At the very least I'll have to have a look, won't I?

Ben got himself a big zoom lens for his birthday. He took this while I was finishing the black merino/mohair warp, standing a meter or two away; it's so clear and shows everything, I was honestly surprised.

On the morning of my birthday, Ali emailed me saying I'll still be the same. I was. I am. This is still me.

A Little Tied Up

Re. tied weaves, mostly Summer and Winter, and "Syrie", I looked at a small collection of samples I did for other projects yesterday.
1) Patterns are expressed by wefts.
2) I don't have to use patterns, i.e. I can have have big areas of backgrounds, (i.e. walls,) where Syria-inspired design will appear; weft can be seen, of course, but depending on the weft and warp yarn/s, size balance, and the pattern, they can be inconspicuous.
EDIT: It's now Feb 2020 and I'm rereading all posts relating to "Syrie" and I don't understand what I meant by inconspicuous. I know I didn't mean just showing blocks of weft floats, but this is what I'm thinking now.
3) I can use most of the shafts for the background and reserve just one for the pattern/windows if the windows are to appear in unison horizontally. The height of the windows can vary with  the treadling. If I want three sets of windows, where the third is a composite of two sets, I only need two pattern shafts.

Apologies the writing is tiny. The top pattern can be made with one or more pattern shafts, whereas the bottom two are examples of using two shafts.

I'll stop here today; more in a couple of days.

Reality

I finished the light teal fabric on the merino/mohair warp; I got 130cm. I certainly had plenty of warp to weave another proper, long piece. Instead of using up another green possum/merino/silk for a small piece of fabric and cutting off the warp, I decided to use an unknown, unsampled wool from Mom's stash.

That's what she wrote; doesn't mean much to me. It's skinny and very airy, but under tension, almost non-existent so the finger feels the stringiness of the mohair in the warp. The merino portion of the warp will full, but this could be the thinnest wool fabric I've ever woven.

And the motif is squashed a little. One ball wove 40cm and there are three more of approximately the same size. I may manage to use it all up. And that's the yellow-green I had wound already.

This was supposed to be a warp producing three longer-than-usual pieces with different sheen;  imagine it turning into a user-upper of odds and sods.

* * * * *

Yesterday was all about how I'd like "Syrie" to look. Within reason. I wasn't going to wish for, oh, 1m-wide, 5m-long strips, five to seven making up one leek, and/or many leeks as a set, for example. That could better depict the destruction of a community, but realistically, I don't know how I could wet-finish and more crucially dry wide or very long piece. I'm also entertaining the option to have most of the strips about the same length, for a more cohesive/tidy piece, as an alternative to... crumbling carnage and destruction.

I finally started looking into weave structures, as I neared the end of the black warp. I started taking notes focusing on how to create those windows.

I haven't watched much coverage of Syria; it's getting so hopeless, as Palestine has been forever. I feel ambivalent about pursuing this project while not keeping updated, not paying attention.

* * * * *

Rereading RAW's blurbs, I confirmed their aim for this exhibition was as simple and straightforward as I had remembered.

The only other stipulation is the artists reside in New Zealand. Although... how one measures/avoids "cultural and artistic influence" from probably the very start of life is beyond me; no sarcasm, I understand they used a narrower definition of culture in the context, and yet that's a chalk line on a sandy beach about to welcome high tide, no? (Did you know, unless deaf or with other difficulties, a baby knows the sounds of his/her native language by the time he/she is born, and certainly recognizes the mother's voice? That's background for you.)    

I grew up in a house devoid of fine art, save the nice calendars Japanese companies used to distribute. My parents love/d natural landscapes, and Mom loves calendars all over the house, so they took up prime positions, but I remember distinctly the first time I saw a woman in a red or orange dress standing behind a table with possibly a bowl of fruits. I assumed it a Cezanne, or possibly Renoir, or even a Monet, but I can't find it. You know, the well-known one with a young, slender woman, possibly blonde, or with a hat? That was the first and for a long time the only painting I had stared at over and over. That was it for "art". 

Mom is a jock and a super keen practitioner of anything textiles. Dad read Chemistry stuff for work, edited professional journals for extra income, and studied newspapers every morning then revised in the evenings, so in his spare time he read little. We had very few books other than what my parents bought me, and it wasn't until I was 10 or 12 when I started buying books by the school-bags-full that a tiny library emerged. I don't remember my siblings dipping into my books, they being seven and 13 years my junior, but at least they grew up with books aplenty.

In junior high, between 13 and 15, I sensed if I wanted to be a well-rounded person, (you may burst out laughing,) I had to educate myself about visual/fine art and started visiting art exhibitions. In a way it wasn't a stretch as my parents took me, the budding archeologist, to plenty of history/ethnographic museums, but whereas it's easy to understand what a gate or a plate does, despite long time ago and far, far away, art was... different. Art didn't have utility, and for a family of pragmatists, super practical folks, art was decorative, and beyond that, perplexing, something, "we don't do." 

My very first art exhibition visit was of horrible Bruegel prints in the now-defunct prefectural art gallery in Kamakua. I loved the building, which now has heritage protection but must await an expensive/extensive quake-strengthening. But the works, yikes; a bunch of chubby, horrible, drunk people falling everywhere. I could hear and even smell the commotion depicted in the prints inside that serene space. I'm surprised it didn't turn me off exhibitions for life.

For that I have Japanese department stores to thank; many are right next to major train stations. Exhibitions were sometimes crowded but inexpensive, and back in the 70's and 80's, they usually showed poplar and approachable art. I remember distinctly a dreamy Mucha exhibition that mesmerized me, and a Wyeth exhibition more crowded than the morning trains, nobody moving or breathing.

But I grew up in Japan; craft was everywhere. Some were so high-end there were rooms in many homes we kids weren't allowed without adult supervision, especially the "guests rooms". A room usually close to the front door, often away from the "living" area, where we had the best sofa sets with arms and even backs covered in white lace or embroidered protectors. At Grandfather's one never knew which casually-placed item was worth several months' salary of any grownup telling us to walk quietly. Mom let us handle anything in our house, from Grandfather's hand-me-downs to Trade Aide style naive but oh, so, inviting, pieces. She may not "do art" but she has encyclopedic knowledge of Japanese regional crafts, (which I knew but began to really appreciate in 2012,) and she has visited gazillion textile places in Asia, Europe, and Guatemala. I had exposure to craft, and curiosity and passion came naturally.

Then came reading about art. This was a long and frustrating struggle until I finally picked up some vocabulary, and learned how to think and talk about art by picking the brains of people who knew/taught this stuff. And talking to people who make stuff and getting their stories from the source. And learning there are folks who write/critique without knowing the artists or their processes, that there is such an industry as art writing. And not finishing reading articles I don't like it; not feeling obliged to like the artist even if I like the work, or vice versa. And finally, enjoying looking at art with some knowledge but unburdened by them.

Rosie once replied to my request for an alternative to "ugly", in a more measured manner I don't mind being overheard; she taught me, "challenging". Kate once advised me, when someone compliments, "just smile and say, 'Thank you'." Weavers are good at sharing; folks like Rose Pelvin and Pat Spitz, and many strangers online can't help themselves but be kind to us middlings stranded on a loom.

Otherwise, I've had my head down and bum up to learn to weave; shedding anything else in my life that got in the way; making warp after warp of lukewarm stuff, or worse; occasionally finding small victories but otherwise trying to keep my head above the water. I'm still learning, I'm still making questionable decisions and cloth, and somehow I'm still loving it all.

That about sums up my art training, my culture. 

* * * * *

I didn't finish the MOMA course writing. I got what I wanted out of the course, and I hadn't signed up for certification, so no regrets. My only worry is if they will let me sign up for another without having finished the first if I find something else interesting. But then there are so many others online, so...  

Testing, Testing

Today I started trying out sizes, (length) and shapes. The strips are 1/10 of 50cm-wide/3.5m-5.5m-long pieces. I'm 150cm tall in this model, (more like 145cm in person,) while the wiry guy is 180cm.  The strips are cut-to-size cheap drawing paper, painted with acrylic, and I'm using florists' wire to shape them; they behave differently from cloth hung with nylon cords, but it's a start.

This is me looking up at a low-hanging 4m strip.

Here's me looking up at the 4.5m strip while the low-hanging 4m strip touches the wiry guy's head. (Ignore the Aged Balsamico bottle; it keeps the leek upright.)

Here's me standing under a 5m strip while wiry guy is under a low-hanging 5.5m strip.

We swapped places. A piece of the other leek crept into the picture.

I have some notes from "Pillars":

1) "Pillars" were suspended from sticks resting on top of joists and a ledge on the wall, the top of the joist being higher than the ledge. "Pillars" pieces were between 3.2m-ish (??) to just under 4m-ish from memory, and none touched the floor. If the leek pieces are to sit directly on the floor and the tops to be, say, level with the top of the joist, I surmise the strips need to be around 4.2-4.5m long, even longer.

If any are to hang low/slanted at an angle, even if they don't need to reach the joist, (and they don't have to,) I'd still like an absolute minimum of 4m but as much as 5-5.5m.

2) At first I wanted lots of skinny strips, something like a leek/tree. But my theme this time is buildings, so wider is better and if that means fewer, I can live with it. While weaving the fabric on the current warp, roughly 55cm-wide, I thought I could weave as wide as 62-63cm, but much more slowly; with shrinkage/draw-in, this could still yield <>60cm in width. Even wider would have given the desired effect, (as do many more strips or even two leeks,) but I'm not going there. If I manage to weave four pieces, the bottom need not be circular/cylindrical, and a square becomes an option. I must experiment with wider paper strips.

3) While one or two strips may stand straight-ish, others will splay outward. When sewing the cylinder/square, I must imagine how the piece as a whole will be shaped and decide if some pieces will have A-side on the outside, while others B-, so the windows can be seen to best effect. If the location within the gallery is such that viewers can walk around the piece, all pieces may have the same side on the outside/inside. Where I saw sides of different strips together, it is best for the non-window parts, (exterior walls,) to look similar. Or does it matter?? Instinct tells me a balanced twill would work, but jury is still out until I study other weave structures.

* * * * *

This weekend, we started the old but familiar exhibition-prep where Ben has had to cook more and make sure we eat. I've done a bit of batch cooking, pickles, roast veg, etc., but there may be some takeaways. Or chocolate.

I began looking forward to weeding a while back, too, and we have had friendlier weather, but you know? Ha. Ha. Ha.

Making More Loose Ends

I made two new warps this week. I have used more than I remembered, but there are always around 30 premades. My goal this year is to reduce this number to about 10 at any time. (For one thing their usual spot gets afternoon sun, and even with an old bed sheet over them, it's not ideal as long-term storage. But I'm not adamant, because making warp is one of the most therapeutic activities in my life. Actually, the most, because physicality, tactility, colors, and the subconscious planning running like a film in my head take me to a happy boisterous place. As opposed to the happy quiet place while I thread.

* * * * *

On Friday, I asked art teacher Mark what I thought was a dumb question: in order to create abstract "art", does one have to start with something figurative and abstract/distort it to "reach" an abstracted stage, or can one start with shapes and colors and proceed directly, and his answer, to the first part before I got to the second, was, "Hell, no."

Happy dance.

* * * * *

Re Raw/Syrie, I'd been planning on weaving strips 40-50cm wide, because they are easier/quicker to weave than the almost-60cm I'm weaving right now. I visualize four or five of them making up the one leek, and intuition says they are, on average, to be between 4 to 5m long. That's a whopping 20-25m of weaving, when the maximum length on my horizontal mill is somewhere between 21-24m, loom waste and all.

Let's say 40cm-wide times four pieces yield 160cm circumference at the bottom of the leek, (realistically, this minus shrinkage and seams,) about 50cm in diameter. If I weave 60cm-wide, three pieces yield 180cm/57cm; slower weaving per vertical cm, but a lot less in total length, right?

I've also come up with an easy twill solution if I can't get my head around tied or freeform weave structures, if I run out of time, for the windows. I haven't given up on tied weave because I want the cloth to be stiff rather than drape-y, but now I have a fallback plan. Which, hee hee, makes me feel so professional/experienced. (Laugh in union, good people!)

In response to my doubts about "Syrie", (I have to come up with a better working title because it sounds too close to "Siri",) Ruby commented on Facebook: "2 thoughts for you: 1)Working in series is being an artist. 2)Fear of success is real (and very different than fear of failure). Just do it and try to enjoy the fact that you love weaving and engaging with yarn and color."

I never saw "Pillars" as a start of the series. The fact "Syrie" is similar, I saw as only a restriction of and reflection on the technique of conventional loom weaving, and my unwillingness to cut or otherwise distort/enhance the rectangles coming off the looms. As well, I have always been enamoured by architecture and archeology, and in big parts by the simple beauty and regularity of tall pillars in ancient civilizations, European and American Colonial architectures, including, ummmm, plantation/slave-owners' homes, but also public institutions. Also anything square and symmetrical of all sizes. So, in a way, it stands to reason whenever I want to make something that's conceptual on my looms, my defaults are regular-looking pillars and buildings and such. (I've also long had this idea of weaving a city gate.)  And this is fine by me, this being my thing, a series, but if it is, I hope I make more than just the two.

"Fear of success" I don't understand. I find the process of conception to plan to making to hanging, (i.e. the bringing to life the mental picture using the stuff I made), and all on a tight schedule, all-consuming I don't have any brain juice left. Ergo, when I'm working, I'm unencumbered by the fear of failure. Success, especially in relation to exhibitions, have meant having gotten stuff done in respectable time. You remember I have submitted stuff late with the organizer's permission, or proposals with damp pages; I even went back after a show opened to give my stuff one last good steam press, all recorded.

My fear of failure is the fear of embarrassment of not having executed something well, to my satisfaction and if related to an exhibition, to my own perception of standards which may make my stuff submittable beyond Nelson's art/NZ's textile worlds, which are, let's face it, tiny; and misc guilt/regrets always present in my life. And/or ego/pride.

Suffice it to say my fear of failure thus far focused on technique. Syrie presented my first doubt whether my "process" is "deep enough", and I'm mildly amused. It could be a sign of creative maturity, not as in "I've grown up," but more "I've done this a few times, so is the same-old good enough?" Or it's just a bunch of gobbledygook.

Happily I'm stuck in the old energized frenzy for now, and any reflection has to wait until after the deadlines.

* * * * *

Better view of the first piece off.

View of the second piece, which ended up being, the notebook says, 2m, but I think it's less. Either way, it's a respectable size, with possibly very-long-for-me fringes. The vertical portion shows the colors pretty accurately on my screen.

I like the B-side better, but I don't know where that unsightly arc came from.

Warp end fabric. This weft is more light teal, whereas the silk above is a slightly-green pale blue.

Here's a lesson from a reckless weaver. This warp is my standard "10m", though I  know that's not the exact length on the board. I wove two biggish samples, one long piece, and another average piece with long fringes, so experience told me I haven't got enough warp left for a third proper piece. I chose this light teal possum/merino/silk to weave a warp-end fabric, possibly for a friend who loves teal and knows how to sew. Well, it turns out I had more weft yarns than I imagined, but not enough for a proper piece and I may have had enough warp for a proper piece. So I'll get 92cm, 1m at best, of this, and a smaller one probably in another green. Silly/stupid/reckless, but a great exercise in using up odds and ends; works well enough if you have to work through a stash as big as mine.

And I'm not sick of this draft yet.

Good times.

Insomnia to the Rescue

Last week, I did a lot on Monday and Tuesday and by Wednesday I was exhausted and it lingered until Thursday. So this week on Monday I did a little housework and a little weaving; on Tuesday I did a little weeding, (I carried a kitchen timer so I wouldn't overdo it,) and wove quite a lot. I'm halfway done with the slubby silk piece; it's going to be 180-190cm in length, a little shorter than I wanted it to be, but an acceptable size.

On Wednesday, I didn't feel sick but I had been reading a fun book for kids, "The Traitor and The Thief", by an Englishman based on the North Island here; it's my favorite kind of book that takes me to a different time and place and let's me live the experience. And I finished the book instead of weaving. Later that night I went to bed and read an excruciatingly boring ketogenic cookbook. Maybe this is why I couldn't asleep, so I tried to plan practical steps/tasks for "Syrie"; it went on too long for comfort, but I did see what I needed to do next, got up surprisingly energized.

I placed "Syrie" warp candidates, cotton and silk, where I usually put warp candidates. To the left of the pale blue silk towards the wall/door are wool I'll use as wefts. (The pic shows a lot of oranges, but some are serious reds.)

I painted strips of 5cm-wide drawing paper so I can make 1/10 size mockup. I remembered I did the same thing with the "Pillars" was I was making 15cm and 18cm people, but I couldn't find a pic posted here. That one looked like a failed diorama homework by a disinterested second grader done in fifteen minutes, but it did give me a good picture. It had the corner of the large gallery at Refinery to scale, and I hung some gray paper 1/10 of the size I had intended to make, with 150cm and 180cm-tall "people" looking up. With "Syrie" I don't need the gallery, but I'd like to try a few variations on the final form/shape.

A good mock up will probably be what I submit as my proposal because 1) there is no way I can weave the whole thing by my birthday, but more importantly, 2) submitting a big red floppy leek can't tell the committee much but the mock up will provide a better idea.

I must read about free-style and tied weaves right away so I can superimpose windows on "building/s" woven in some kind of Syria/Muslim-inspired motif-based pattern, something I can manage with 16-shafts. Boy, I wished I had more or a Jacquard to make Arabesque/flowers and vine design for this. Anyhoo, the Klick is ready for some sampling.

I also made Esther's Birthday warp while waiting for the red paint to dry; it's in four grays and black. When she came over to have a look at my cashmere samples, she liked conservative/traditional twills, especially achromatic. I can do that.

* * * * *

I've convinced myself "Syrie" is going to turn out crappy even before I made the warp. I've been wondering why this is. I've given up projects when I can't be bothered, but I've never had this foreboding causing reluctance/hesitance. It's probably because I'm usually too busy working out the mechanics and due dates are the biggest worry. I work while I imagine the piece looking just the way I see it in my head, and then come face to face with my technical weaknesses and, whoa, reality and sometimes dispair hit me, and I complain, and blog, and then move on.

I never worried "Pillars" would turn out badly. There were no rude surprises with that project, and although I didn't know exactly how it would look until we hung it in the gallery,  I was confident I would like it and it would look good in the exhibition.

I don't know why it's so different this time. Is it because "Syrie" is similar to "Pillars" I see it as Version II, (even though its origins are different,) and that I'm cheating? Do I find my approach or vision facile or immature/underdeveloped? Have I learned too much about textile work in exhibitions and my ideas don't meet my expectations? Is it my technical skills that worry me?

Or is it the magnitude of what's happening in Syria vs my audacity to borrow their fate as "inspiration" to make a few pieces of red cloth in my cushy First World basement and put my name on it instead of, as if it represents any kind of... what... reality? I don't know, I don't know if I'll ever know. But making this feels better than not making this, so I'll stay on track for now.

So it was insomnia to the rescue once again.

<=O=>

The title line is a picture of me being pulled in two directions. 

I thought I was getting all better by Friday so I went to the art class; ran into Annabelle for the second time since our exhibition, (her life is so good now, I'm glad;) then went to Rosie's and had a great time, except I was coughing, and still we talked non-stop. I didn't feel bad one bit, just coughing, but too often, too loudly, and I'd say, rudely. Oh, dear. So, I made a doctor's appointment at 4.30 tomorrow, in time to run into a pharmacy before closing.  

In a way, I knew I must see Doc Karl when Ben came home with whooping cough med; even though I wasn't sick, and my "cold" manifested in different ways, I had read that whooping cough is highly contagious. I stayed home until I felt I was almost over it, but that must have been wishful thinking. The foremost excuse is, now is not the time for me to get sick when Ben's blood sugar level and our going back to a no-carb diet are our priorities, and I'm having a hard enough time keeping that under control, so, tough it out, kid! But also, I'm honestly fired up about my new project. I even made a label, "RAW/Syrie" just now to tag the posts. See =>>>>>

(EDIT: the label has changed several times but it's "Syrie" until/unless it's renamed in its final stage.)

So what am I thinking? If you've been around Unravelling, you know I need a picture of the finished project, albeit incomplete, constantly morphing, or it ends up only a step in the process. The picture is constantly morphing now, and even when it settles it's something I can't "show" you until it's hung at the Refinery, (because I'm' thinking big/long,) if selected. But I hate dropping coy hints without any meat, so here are the starting points:  

* It's going to be something like the pillars, but the bottom part sewn together to make a real tube, to sit directly on the floor, then different panels opening up. Individual piece may be narrower but need to be longer and I'm aiming for five panels if possible.  

* The panels are going to be predominantly red, with squares/rectangles of different sizes in red, orange, yellow, grays and black; possibly more. These represent windows. 

* Background, my short history: You know I worked at the Syrian Embassy in Tokyo for a year. Back in the '80s Syria, and Iraq for that matter, were cosmopolitan, "Westernized" countries where at least in the city life looked what we'd call, "normal"; there were no headscarves, women were educated and worked, etc.1 The major security concerns were Gaza/West Bank, recently Lebanon, and Egypt where "fundamentalist" were gaining strength. So I was honestly shocked at what happened in Syria since Arab Spring; I knew Assad the Dad ruled with iron fists, but hadn't realized Assad the Son followed in the footsteps. So I've been thinking very vaguely of a series of red pillars named "Syrie" for a couple of years. (1I worked at the embassy, a branch of the Foreign Ministry, so the information I received were the official versions, but we also met some Japanese who travelled there, and heard stories that didn't contradict the official line too much.) 

* Background, the name: I grew up in the US in the 70's when America's worst foes were "Syria and Libya", so the English "Syria" evokes in me more of infantile name-calling, rather than the country herself. I'm interested in the country. "Syrie" is the French name; they colonized Syria 1923-'46 under League of Nations mandate, so it's not a great name, but I can't type Arabic alphabets easily, either. (It's سوريا, apparently.) "Syrie" is a working title because I don't like colonization, either, but for me for now it's better than the American implications that was pressed on me.

* In trying to work out how I could make something to express/represent the lament, the devastation, the losses/changes in the lives of everyday Syrians, I searched for recent still photos. (I can't look at too many at one time, and I don't have the stomach for vids.) but I was overwhelmed by the large number of almost black-and-white/sepia pics showing the aftermath, buildings with windows blown out, conveying a perverted kind of silence, stillness, and, dare I say, beauty, a done deal. "Oh, look at the city reduced to rubble." Although I don't like looking at them, I expected people, running, even bleeding, limping, or carrying others, covered in soot, similar to what we saw after 9/11. At the very least, buildings as they burn, explosions as bombs drop. The photos also conveyed the callousness of whoever is bombing them, sometimes from a distance, sometimes, I suspect, with drones. (I didn't check.) The human ability to put a distance to others' suffering, destruction of lives/culture/history/heritage, borne of physical/emotional/(cultural) distance. The dismissal of the magnitude. So that is my starting point. 

* Current Issues: The picture in my head is still about the buildings because I love architecture and buildings/structures are easier to express in the grid that is weaving. On the technical side, I don't want to use pick up if I'm going to have to make five, say, of 4m panels; I can change weft colors, but I also prefer to weave with one shuttle at a time. Much reading required. 

This is the doodle that made me think I might be able to do this. So, I'll be making a giant red leek. 

On another note, I finished threading the black merino/mohair yesterday so I can start sampling. I also resumed counting the days to my birthday, (36), not for the old stash-busting goal, (ha ha ha,) not for my Yikes-60-countdown, but that's the day proposals for RAW are due. Another important date is May 7, when all accepted "out of town" pieces are due at the Refinery; typical of me, if I don't get the thing done by April 3, (most likely,) I will submit a proposal with whatever I will have completed, and take the time to weave for another month. And in a way it's nice to be working on the big loom while I think further about the project. 

I have an alternative plan, although it doesn't appeal to me at this stage; if I can't manage the weaving, I could paint/modify the pillars for this project. Those pieces are stiffish in luxurious wool, (actually more like buildings made of stones,) but not quite long enough, while I'm thinking of thinner, more flimsy cloth for this project. I am keeping all options open. 

Hi from the Other Side

Gita on Tuesday for and Nelson City in general was nowhere as traumatic as I envisioned; it arrived later and took a path further south, so we got rain and wind, but the rain wasn't as hard nor long, and the wind was much milder than our usual Sprint/Autumn wind. The one noticeable difference was wind usually blows from the west here, while Gita brought it from the east.

However, the West Coast and Golden Bay, northwest of Nelson, were hammered with heavy rain and landslides. You may have seen pics of Takaka Hill Road having fallen off in big chunks. These, together with State Highway 1 from Picton to Christchurch via. Kaikoura, the route damaged in the Nov 2016 earthquake, are some of the popular tourist routes, (two are also our main arteries,) so if you know anyone hoping to holiday in New Zealand and drive around the South Island, urge them to get updates. Takaka Hill in particular is going to take some time to repair. (The hill is, incidentally, where the marbles for our Parliament House came from, and was used in LOTR films as backdrop for folks running in stunning scenery.)

* * * * *

I'm really fired up about the RAW project, and I'll tell you more when I have a clearer picture, but I need to read up on tied weaves. You know me; reading words about weaving make my eyes water and I read a paragraph several times before I realize I've been reading it many times. (Ditto with my own posts!)

Because it's a big project, I don't want to use pick-up, and I hope to weave with one shuttle at a time. The look of the draft isn't going to be fussy or complicated, but I want to insert/superimpose shapes in distinct colors. I wanted to relearn, in particular, tie-down in twill, not how to draft them, but how they behave/look.

I checked every place conceivable for the workshop sample today to no avail. I also realized I did not save the Pebbles draft, another S&W, which makes me so mad because I always intended to weave a bigger piece based on it. I wove that sample on a table loom, so I made the draft in and worked off a lift plan, and I wished I had posted that at least. Instead, I posted the treadle plan, and the only reason I can think of is I usually save drafts in treadle plan so I did that without thinking. But this one isi nearly useless.

While looking for the missing sample, I came across a woodgrain sample I found particularly attractive, and thought I could modify that for the black Merino Mohair warp. But when I was ready to work on it, I changed my mind and chose to modify the hellebore draft, but for a strange reason; the flowers looked like faces, and the cloth, a bunch of folks who have passed on looking back in a quiet, but not sad, way. And I found it visually terribly appealing. I don't know if I'm going to weave all three or four pieces on this warp in this treadling, but most definitely one, maybe two.

See? I'll have to come up with a more cheerful name/concept, though.

Threading is easy and in one sitting I finished half. The downside is, it's half mohair, and the fiber fly around and make my skin itch and nose stuffy. I remember now why I don't weave with this yarn often, and when I do, usually as the weft. It has a glorious sheen so dull wefts suit best, but I'm also thinking silk.

Tomorrow morning is my fourth session of the Adult Art class; in the afternoon I'm going to show Rosie how I make sauerkraut. So, threading and sampling on Saturday; I hope the loom works.

Fired Up/Nelson will be Closed Tomorrow

Yesterday while doing something completely different, (I can't remember what,) I had an idea for a RAW submission; it happens to be something I've wanted to make for a couple of years and I toyed with the idea of submitting it to Changing Threads, but I could never "see" what the final piece would look like, and I kept putting it off. Yesterday I began to feel a very strong urge to finally make this piece, and today when I sat down, ideas kept flowing. (This had something to do with the sudden energy; Kaz showed me pictures before she posted. :-D)

Thinking Summer & Winter or another tied weave would be one option, I looked for few samples I have done, and after remembering they were in a special place because I always intended to revisit tied weaves. (Special places are never a good idea for me; I can never find anything leaving me with an empty feeling, "it was supposed to be special.") Then I remembered I have another sample somewhere, but special or otherwise, I couldn't find it for the life of me.

My samples are filed according to fiber contents, roughly, but after checking every shelf thrice, I still can't find it.  I'll try again tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, Ex-Tropical Cyclone Gita is heading to Nelson. It's the one that brought huge damage to Tonga among other places. We've been warned to get ready since last Friday, and Ben's work is closed, he was told today.

This is the latest map I can find. See the top of the South Island where the water eats into the land in a V-shape? Nelson is slightly above the bottom of the V on the right side. The greatest danger is expected near the water, areas worst struck the day after the Super Blue Blood Moon and last Sunday, rain, tide, storm surge. We're up a hill so we're not expecting that, but a) we left the basement as is with the carpet waiting in the garage, and b) prepared, sort of, in case of water stoppage and/or power outage. Ben says there were a lot of empty shelves in the supermarket tonight.

Oh, if I were to go ahead with this RAW project, I need the big loom so I must get cracking with the black warp. One of the unrelated samples gave me a nice idea; I think the black warp is going to be another twill series.