Autumnal Leaves

I didn't grow up looking at fields of wheat or ocean crashing into the rocks or whatever else the word "nature" reminds you of. I grew up looking at the sky in between tall buildings, or what little I glimpsed at from the train window, during my 90-minute commute to school, or 1 hour 45 minutes commute to work, back in Tokyo. So when I read about artists who are inspired by their environment, by nature, I feel half envious, half doubtful, that they really get inspired by... "nature".

Still, this is our 11th year looking out of our bed room window at a giant liquid amber tree, and for me, autumnal leaves and trees are the best source of inspiration in the colors and shapes they hold, in even one branch, let alone the whole tree.

So without further ado, these are some images I collected on a rugby field last Thursday.

I am especially enamored with the way nature combines reds/purples with greens, and the way a boring old mid-brown becomes golden when placed next to more vibrant colors.

What also pleased me was that I got a bit innovative. Not being satisfied with a) the composition restrictions of still photography, and b) not being able to photograph the movements created by wind, I started tampering with the video function of my small camera.

I tried eight footage, and none were of good quality, but I'm proud of myself for thinking outside of my tiny, rigid square and attempting something new. Here's an example.


This was my "movement" footage. Looking at this, one cannot escape shouting, "I have, I have!!" to Rossetti.

Price of Art

I've been reluctant to get on with my commission works, because I don't want to contact the client who ordered the piece I should be working on right now.

When I sent my first ever submission to an exhibit and it was accepted, I sent her a photograph, and she celebrated with me, by correspondence. She asked how much I was asking for for that particular piece, so I told her.

A few months later, she commissioned me a piece, about twice the size of the said exhibition piece, and when we started discussing the price, she felt I mislead her into thinking my prices were lower. So we reached a compromise. Much to my dismay.

Once again she was kind enough to order another present, this one a very special one for her, and I'm reluctant to contact her because of this. I fear she's going to want to negotiate the price again. What's worse, a company that used to produce beautiful but relatively inexpensive (compared to my usual "boutique") yarns in Auckland closed shop in December.

She is one of the few returning clients, and I appreciate that. She also knows a thing or two about textiles, and I'm flattered that my work is worth ordering months ahead. And she's a lovely person.

At the same time, I can't get motivated to put in a lot of energy on designing a beautiful piece, knowing, monetarily, it's going to cost a whole lot less than the value I assign to it.

Ah, Office Work

I went to help Martin and Maria at Arts Marketing to take care of a small section of a big event they are holding at the end of May. It was a simple task, but great fun putting on my events managing cap again. And after the debacle at my six-month stint in office work in 2004, it was reassuring to know I still had it in me to produce satisfying results.

The event is called the Top of the South Arts Expo, a kind of a match-making between artists and galleries/shops. Back in January, Arts Marketing asked visual artists looking for outlets to submit a mini portfolio; galleries/shops around the country had a chance to see these, and some expressed interest in meeting some of us. So we are getting together over two days at the end of the month, artists displaying samples of their work, and galleries/shops looking for new talents.

At the very last minute, I qualified to attend the Expo, so I'm looking forward to strutting my stuff, after I make a few new ones, and possibly redesign my logo/business card. I know there will always be some who are unhappy with aspects of any event and we'll hear from them louder than those who were satisfied, but it's always more rewarding to be involved in different capacities in these events.

Thank you for the opportunity, Martin and Maria.

Self Pity and Too Much Time

Kath Bee's two posts of April 30th makes me think about what I do and where I am. Well, they are meant to stop me thinking, but they do make me wonder. I do have too much time on my hand, and I do go into a self-pity spiral, but this art thing is new and I don't know where I'm going, so I have to think before I go down the wrong way, some of the time.... Am I making sense?

Another thing is, Kiwis are, if I'm allowed to generalize, practical "doers", rather than ranting, raving, pacing ponderers. I appreciate I'm becoming a bit more of a doer, but I miss the pop-wowing of ideas with people of similar interests.

OK, corkscrew beckons.

Back on Track on Birthday Eve

It's like this.

I belong to a group called Cross Country Weavers, and once a years, we exchange two woven samples, one in a group theme structure, and another in anything you've been working on. It's supposed to be an enjoyable learning experience.

My group's theme this year was Corkscrew, which is, in short, multiple twill threadings being intertwined within one cloth. Kind of.

I started reading about this structure last year just to get a feel for it, and it was either going to be a piece of cake, or it was going to do my head in. At my exhibit, on the quiet days, I read up on it and started to make notes, but because I read too many books, and weave structure definitions can vary, I got completely confused. So I went back to one book, listed the characteristics of this weave, and designed a few original ideas on the computer. Two of them looked workable, in a way that they were totally not the look I normally weave. And then it hit me.

The only way I can explain this to you is like this: say you've eaten bananas all your life, and sometimes they taste delicious, sometimes not, but on the whole you love them. And then one day, you get a bad one, and it nearly kills you, and the doctor tells you you're allergic to all fruits and the next piece will be really finish you.

Corkscrew had me so frustrated I was actively avoiding weaving and things to do with weaving probably most of March and April. I didn't avoid weavers, and I faked at being excited about what I heard, but I couldn't even look at a weaving book or my yarns, and it was mid-April when I finally got around to cleaning my looms. At one point, I was ready to sell everything and get a job.

Interesting things were happening, like I heard two gallery/museum shops were interested in stocking my scarves; I was asked to submit a proposal for a Nelson artists' exhibition taking place in Wellington in conjunction with World of Wearable Arts award show later this year, and most surprising of all, a gentleman from the local newspaper emailed me, and said he read my Get a Life post, and asked if I'd like to contribute an opinion piece in an unpaid-but-by -request-only section. And I sold the most pieces, ever, this April. All through this, I kept telling myself, "If this isn't the most exciting thing in my short career, I don't know what is!!" And still, I kept pacing in my living room like a living dead.

But I missed my fruits. I missed weaving, and being a weaver, and I figured if the corkscrews I drafted were so bad, I could get one out of a book and weave it. So I measured the warp on Friday and dressed the loom on Saturday and sampled my two drafts today, and you know, they're not bad. I can think of things I could do mixing different colors, and I wouldn't mind designing a few more.

So today, I ate a banana, and instead of killing me, it cured me. And it took getting back on the loom and throwing the shuttle to get me out of my creative coma. Serves me right.

*****

Tomorrow is Unravelling's first birthday. I've been preparing to post something completely different, but this post suits the occasion better, so I'll leave it at that. I thank you all for visiting Unravelling, your encouragements, compliments, ideas and suggestions. I really appreciate your taking the time so I can bend your ears and get you tangled up in my ill-tempered warp.

Thank you, again.

More on Warp Tension

When you warp on a board or a mill, you're supposed to push each yarn layer snugly against the previous layer. I've done OK on the top peg here, but there are at least two warps markedly out of place on the bottom peg. But that's not what I wanted to focus on.

As seen in this photo, yarns start from the top, create a cross, go around all pegs, turns around at the bottom peg, and come back up. So they go around all pegs twice but only once around the top and the bottom pegs, so the top and the bottom pegs have half as many yarn layers. With the top peg, being right next to a cross, there is not as much packing, but on my bottom peg, seen here at the top, this is quite noticeable.

This means that as I put more warp yarns and layer them on the board/pegs, the warp yarns become slightly but increasingly longer. In addition to all other self-inflicted irregular tension problems, I have noticed time after time the left side of my narrower warps ever so slighting being looser. I used to put it down to my looms not being square, or something to do with the bake mechanism being on the right side of the looms, but could this be it? If so, adding the extra pegs at the bottom of my board should remedy this somewhat.

And again, if you think about it, how obvious is that!

PS. Please ignore the Manila folder in the above photo; I was trying to photograph the trapezoid the warps were creating, but couldn't manage.

Juxtaposition

Beautiful colors, divine wines, barbed wires.

Routines

It's funny how we get used to our tools and routines built around them, and to think we designed the routines ourselves at one time.

In trying to improve my tension, I've been talking to many weavers, and two things that came out in these discussions have been: a) don't tie on new warp and pull it through reed and heddles, and b) make two crosses when warping, one at each end.

A) is not a big problem on the four-shaft jack loom, but I'm still sitting on the fence on the 16-shaft, because of the time it takes to thread the darned thing. And it's harder to thread my 16-shaft standing in front of the heddles; I'll have to experiment with different positions, including the ways I hold my tongue. But as I start to experiment with silk and alpaca, it will become more important that I have even tension. Soooo... I'm playing this one by ear.

Now b). I knew I automatically made two crosses on my warping mill, but just one on the board, and after about 40 minutes warping beautiful Swedish cottolin in stripes of two taupes for a series of dish towels, I burst out laughing. Look!

Unless I want to get a little creative in the way I make the cross, it's a little hard to do at the bottom just now. I hired Ben the Husband last night to drill three holes and glue in three dowels at the bottom to make life simpler for me, and am keeping my fingers crossed he'll have time to do it this weekend.

Amazing, because I spent the three weeks pondering why I don't make the second cross on this board, instead of how I should do it.

But I have a more interesting discovery.

Morning Room Cafe Opened Today

The Red Art Gallery, the only place on earth that stocks my weaving, opened its tiny cafe, The Morning Room, today. The cakes were great, but the small, old fashioned sandwiches were delicious and surprisingly filling at mere $3.50.

Anybody who wants to meet me in town will now have to walk to the Nelson Mail end of Bridge Street and meet me at the Morning Room. Excellent!

Photographs taken and posted with the permission of Jay Farnsworth.

Feast for the Eyes, Food for Thought

I found a great source of inspiration in Mayuresh Tendalker's photo collection of sarees here. Feast your eyes. In fact, his non-textile photos are just as inspirational.

And then there is my all time favorite, Montana Raven's photos here; she is a landscape designer, artist/photographer and has stunning nature photos, as well as cutest dog pics. Her words are warm and considered and good sources for reflecting on how I live; they can be found here and here.