2010/12/29
Before and After
I've been weaving at what is for me a break-neck speed - one a day. I made a measuring mistake so the cool light blue one is a tad short, (but not as short as it appears here.) I like that I got two warm color pieces and one cool, from the same warp. The one on the far left is the unresolved Scarf 2 that is all over the place and even though it has 15 different color areas, I don't like it. I also one smaller sample and a tiny one to include in the Sketchbook Project sketchbook.
Dianne, in the middle is the properly wet-finished sample; on the sides pieces just taken off the loom. Dye does not wash out of these yarns, but the fuzz softens the intensity and makes the finished textile not only feel but look much softer. I can't even see the log cabin on the orange piece in this picture, but it's there.
Maybe the wash/fuzz can improve the piece I don't like. Fingers, toes and eyes crossed!
2010/12/27
December: Thoughts Thought
On Friday, November 26, when I went around the galleries in town swapping my tags, I did something else: I booked a gallery for October 2012 for another solo exhibition, in Nelson. I was elated and felt energetic about working on another project for about a week. Then, I remembered the negative comments I received, not from "regular" folks, not from friendly weavers, but successful, practicing, accomplished weavers who, frankly, don't know me that well. And though I tried not to dwell on them, I couldn't help feeling like I wanted to hide just for thinking about another exhibition. (Because they don't know me well, they must be objective, mustn't they?) And I went another round of wanting to erase everything on the Internet about me and my weaving.
Then I had my annual ride on the Merry-go-round of "concepts in weaving", but this being the third year, I used the same vocabulary, the same logic, and reached the same conclusions just a lot more quickly: I don't want to make something only to fit the exhibition brief. Maybe helping hang the exhibition is a more meaningful way for me to participate and support the event.
And then I had what felt like an eternity and a half of wondering what I'm doing with my life calling myself a weaver, when I spend more hours sitting in the office chair typing and pondering about weaving than I do on the loom bench. It's the "Vocation Question" again. If I went back to an office job, if anyone would employ me, Ben and I could have a nicer life, worry less, and maybe travel more. And I could weave as a hobby. It's not the first time I thought about this, but the certainty of my doubt alarmed me. All the other years I've contemplated this, it's been in part a little tongue in cheek, but this year felt different. And I haven't tried to go back to office work since 2004 because a) I'm too old to employ for office job in the current economy and b) I can't weave when I work because my life always gets overtaken by my job.
An exceptionally long hayfever season, (it's still going!) was taking a toll on my spirit as well. In fact, finding myself dispirited seems to be a recurring thing.
Sometimes I see people as baubles, of different sizes, intensities, and of course hues; there are baubles that shine steadily, those that go through the shine/dim cycle; and even those that shine nauseatingly brightly making the surrounding lovely baubles look dull in comparison. As I get older, as I pick up more fears, worries and doubts, as I discover more limitations, my bauble has grown a bit cloudier, slightly dimmer, a tad smaller. And now, no amount of polishing seems to bring back the shine it once had.
I've been trying to remember what kind of a child I was and what kind of a relationship I had with my parents and teachers, and whether I really was the ornery child my family keeps referring to, or if I really lived the confrontational relationship years of introspection/reflection/counseling informs me. Because I seem to recall, in the fogs of my reptilian brain (or is it the limbic system?), having been inside this slow chubby child in awe of the world around her, never quite in the world but observing from a short distance, unwaivering in her belief that world... just happened. And I keep pondering that child I lived in looking from the inside out, and comparing her to the person my parents and teachers saw from the outside. Then my memory jumps to this girl, age 9, one late afternoon towards the end of the summer holiday, staring at the letters, "How to Change my Personality", written in the neatest handwriting she could manage, (erased and rewritten several times,) on the first page of a brand new notebook.
The short version of the reason why I wanted to do this exhibition, the idea for which was conceived maybe around March but has been brewing inside for longer, is because I am tired of "just a square piece of woven cloth" not being good enough to exhibit in an art exhibition. Those were, as best I can remember, the exact words from the very first brief I received for a textile exhibition called, from memory, "Textile Fantasia" in Blenheim late last century. Back then, I thought there is so much more to learn about textiles, but now I find it offensive, even when the briefs nowadays are slightly more disguised, like, "beyond the traditional technique".
I think the longer version is that I want to recapture joie de vivre through weaving. You know, the wonder the world can bring if only I were open to it. For 2011, I didn't rejoin Marlborough Weavers, nor the Online UK Guild, (though I'll still be the Blog Mum for Marlborough Weavers.) And I think the Textile Lunches have come to its natural end. It's not as if any of these demands a lot of my time or energy, but I felt compelled to walk alone for a bit, see what I find, and maybe see comes out from inside without the prodding.
And so the working title, and the concept, for my exhibition is, "WYSIWYG: What You See is What You Get".
And there I said it, I've written it, and posted it. And if this post is hidden or deleted any time in the future, it'll be because that'll be where I'll be at the time.
Then I had my annual ride on the Merry-go-round of "concepts in weaving", but this being the third year, I used the same vocabulary, the same logic, and reached the same conclusions just a lot more quickly: I don't want to make something only to fit the exhibition brief. Maybe helping hang the exhibition is a more meaningful way for me to participate and support the event.
And then I had what felt like an eternity and a half of wondering what I'm doing with my life calling myself a weaver, when I spend more hours sitting in the office chair typing and pondering about weaving than I do on the loom bench. It's the "Vocation Question" again. If I went back to an office job, if anyone would employ me, Ben and I could have a nicer life, worry less, and maybe travel more. And I could weave as a hobby. It's not the first time I thought about this, but the certainty of my doubt alarmed me. All the other years I've contemplated this, it's been in part a little tongue in cheek, but this year felt different. And I haven't tried to go back to office work since 2004 because a) I'm too old to employ for office job in the current economy and b) I can't weave when I work because my life always gets overtaken by my job.
An exceptionally long hayfever season, (it's still going!) was taking a toll on my spirit as well. In fact, finding myself dispirited seems to be a recurring thing.
Sometimes I see people as baubles, of different sizes, intensities, and of course hues; there are baubles that shine steadily, those that go through the shine/dim cycle; and even those that shine nauseatingly brightly making the surrounding lovely baubles look dull in comparison. As I get older, as I pick up more fears, worries and doubts, as I discover more limitations, my bauble has grown a bit cloudier, slightly dimmer, a tad smaller. And now, no amount of polishing seems to bring back the shine it once had.
I've been trying to remember what kind of a child I was and what kind of a relationship I had with my parents and teachers, and whether I really was the ornery child my family keeps referring to, or if I really lived the confrontational relationship years of introspection/reflection/counseling informs me. Because I seem to recall, in the fogs of my reptilian brain (or is it the limbic system?), having been inside this slow chubby child in awe of the world around her, never quite in the world but observing from a short distance, unwaivering in her belief that world... just happened. And I keep pondering that child I lived in looking from the inside out, and comparing her to the person my parents and teachers saw from the outside. Then my memory jumps to this girl, age 9, one late afternoon towards the end of the summer holiday, staring at the letters, "How to Change my Personality", written in the neatest handwriting she could manage, (erased and rewritten several times,) on the first page of a brand new notebook.
The short version of the reason why I wanted to do this exhibition, the idea for which was conceived maybe around March but has been brewing inside for longer, is because I am tired of "just a square piece of woven cloth" not being good enough to exhibit in an art exhibition. Those were, as best I can remember, the exact words from the very first brief I received for a textile exhibition called, from memory, "Textile Fantasia" in Blenheim late last century. Back then, I thought there is so much more to learn about textiles, but now I find it offensive, even when the briefs nowadays are slightly more disguised, like, "beyond the traditional technique".
I think the longer version is that I want to recapture joie de vivre through weaving. You know, the wonder the world can bring if only I were open to it. For 2011, I didn't rejoin Marlborough Weavers, nor the Online UK Guild, (though I'll still be the Blog Mum for Marlborough Weavers.) And I think the Textile Lunches have come to its natural end. It's not as if any of these demands a lot of my time or energy, but I felt compelled to walk alone for a bit, see what I find, and maybe see comes out from inside without the prodding.
And so the working title, and the concept, for my exhibition is, "WYSIWYG: What You See is What You Get".
And there I said it, I've written it, and posted it. And if this post is hidden or deleted any time in the future, it'll be because that'll be where I'll be at the time.
2010/12/26
December: Action Taken
First of all, I hope you are having a lovely time at this end of the year, and looking forward to a fuitful 2011.
During the month of December, I had a reading binge, (not weaving, but food and cookbooks; I went to the library to borrow one cookbook and walked into a library book sale and came home with these, plus the one book I borrowed. All hardcovers were $2, paperbacks were $1);
a baking binge, a Sketchbook Project Stint, then I wove the dreaded alpaca warp, (from which I got four rather sorry-selvedged Log Cabin scarves; they haven't even been moved to the proverbial under-the-couch, but just get moved around with my foot when they get in the way);
then sampled and started weaving cashmere log cabin scarves.
The warp is in violet and yellow green, one touch closer than complementary.
I experimented with a few color combinations, staying loosely in the purple/green vs yellow/orange scheme. I noticed I was favoring the nuanced/muddy combinations this week, rather than the clear colors, and I think having watched a few movies featuring attractive 1950's French attires had something to do with it. I could have gone on sampling the whole eight meters of the warp, but decided it might be a too expensive of an exercise, so I wove my first piece in this combination.
One weft is the same violet as the warp; the other is a burnt orange; when in combination with the other yarns, the orange color looks more vivid, and the yellow green warp comes through as Tweed-like flecks. I keep thinking either I or my mother had a wool garment in this mood, but I may be just imagining it.
Lastly, Mom came across something interesting and sent me a sample.
This piece of cloth is two narrower pieces stitched together, and each piece was woven on a Marudai Kumihimo "loom". It comes from Iga Ueno in Mie Prefecture, city famous for one of the two main Ninja bases and Iga-yaki pottery. When you think about it, it's no surprise one can weave a flat piece of cloth on a Marudai, but Mom and I both had a "Doh!" moment on the phone.
I'd love to keep weaving the Log Cabin scarves, but I think I've finished less than half of the pages in for the Sketchbook Project, and I seen to have not a lot of weaverly things, I think I need to focus on that for a few more days.
Today was my parents' 55th anniversary.
During the month of December, I had a reading binge, (not weaving, but food and cookbooks; I went to the library to borrow one cookbook and walked into a library book sale and came home with these, plus the one book I borrowed. All hardcovers were $2, paperbacks were $1);
Lastly, Mom came across something interesting and sent me a sample.
I'd love to keep weaving the Log Cabin scarves, but I think I've finished less than half of the pages in for the Sketchbook Project, and I seen to have not a lot of weaverly things, I think I need to focus on that for a few more days.
Today was my parents' 55th anniversary.
2010/12/01
Sukita Project
Having asked you about your dream textile holiday, I've been thinking about mine. As you can imagine, combine my travel lust with textile love, I've a really long mental list. But I was embarrassed to be reminded of an item that's been there a while, costs next to nothing to execute, and the only thing stopping me is myself.
It's visiting the Kayan weavers in Nelson. The women have been on my mind because I was asked about a good fine cotton supplier, indirectly, by the project coordinator and Andrea a while back, I recommended DEA of course, and was recently thanked several times, indirectly, by the coordinator and Andrea. Andrea told me the cotton scarves have started arriving at the Suter, so I went to have a look, and they look and feel so much nicer than the former, rayon I think, series. There are more colorways and the colors look more deeply saturated. And they are very affordable I almost bought one, but I couldn't decide which color I wanted. (I love the purple ones, but there is a lovely burnt-orange-and-olive-gold one.)
I now have the email of the coordinator, though I don't think I've ever met her. I've been soliciting my friends to come with me and hold me emotional hand just in case I react badly to the neck braces. But I think I will go visit them sometime really soon.
EDIT: I had an inquiry so I contacted the coordinator of Sukita Project. At this point the Sukita Scarves are sold only at The Suter Gallery and Reflections Gallery at WOW Museum, both in Nelson, New Zealand. If you are seriously hoping to add one to your collection of ethnic- or good-cause textiles, at this point yours truly is going to have to go and pick one up on your behalf, or Andrea at the Suter can assist you. Contact me, or Andrea.
2010/11/30
Log Cabin
I couldn't decide what I wanted to do today. Specifically, I couldn't decide if I wanted to put on a two-color cashmere warp, threading undecided, or Ben's Happi warp, not sellable, on the big loom. I looked at my four-shaft Jack. The poor thing has been neglected for much too long; I don't have a record, but I put on a black-and-gray alpaca warp in log cabin sometime between October last year and February this year.
I'm not a fan of alpaca; my face and arms itch, ergo the long neglect; there's no "expression" on the yarns; I imagine this is what it's like to weave nylon cords or horse hair. And there is absolutely no joy of wet finishing alpaca, and the small problem of absolutely no disguising bad selvedge. Still, I don't want to take off another partially woven warp off the loom, only to have to resurrect it again, so I continued to weave a small scarf I started on April 8. This year.
I'm still skeptical about this piece as a scarf, to be worn around the neck and face, (certainly not by me,) but color & weave fascinates me. It's plain weave, but it looks three-dimensional. At first I kept making treadling mistakes because I was lost in the maze of the vertical and horizontal stripes.
After a while the treadling became automatic; because of the massive size of the yarns, the weaving is super fast, and I was enjoying myself quite a bit. Plain weave, though with two wefts, and this result. Log cabin is one of the most energy efficient weave "structure", yes?
I'm not a fan of alpaca; my face and arms itch, ergo the long neglect; there's no "expression" on the yarns; I imagine this is what it's like to weave nylon cords or horse hair. And there is absolutely no joy of wet finishing alpaca, and the small problem of absolutely no disguising bad selvedge. Still, I don't want to take off another partially woven warp off the loom, only to have to resurrect it again, so I continued to weave a small scarf I started on April 8. This year.
I'm still skeptical about this piece as a scarf, to be worn around the neck and face, (certainly not by me,) but color & weave fascinates me. It's plain weave, but it looks three-dimensional. At first I kept making treadling mistakes because I was lost in the maze of the vertical and horizontal stripes.
After a while the treadling became automatic; because of the massive size of the yarns, the weaving is super fast, and I was enjoying myself quite a bit. Plain weave, though with two wefts, and this result. Log cabin is one of the most energy efficient weave "structure", yes?
2010/11/29
"Workaday" / Tags: Conclusion
Since Friday morning, I've been contemplating the word, and the notion, of "workaday". I hadn't heard the word for a long time until Sheldon described Leonard thus to Leonard's Mom (1:30), in the episode of American sitcom "The Big Bang Theory".
Weavers, and other "makers" in New Zealand, use the term "bread and butter" to describe work they make which are creatively nononerous but bring in quick/easy money. Now that I've been reminded of the word, "workaday" seems to describe this activity better; you put in the hours, pieces get made, and a small amount of money comes in. Kind of like office jobs I've had. Even though in the current economy even the small pieces aren't flying out the window. But I know you get the point. It's usually not very exciting cranking out these pieces off, at least not for me.
I've been thinking of what I perceive as my "workaday" pieces. Make no mistake, the same care goes into each of my piece, but the small 2/2 twill, (because it brings out the best hand,) cashmere scarves are my most workaday, followed closely by the 110/2 merino warp medium (about 30cm wide) and wide (between 75-84cm wide) pieces, including the latest. I honestly do appreciate your compliments, and it is a nice piece this latest, but I think you will understand when I say there was no real challenge, no something-new, in the making of the piece, and that is what I perceive as workaday.
So, I've been thinking of cashmeres in a different structure, and at least for a while, a markedly different appearance. And I've been contemplating Color & Weave and/or Shadow Weave.
* * * * *
The tags have been fixed, to the best of the printer's ability. Paul, the owner or manager of the company, cut the sides of the tags which had more than 1mm difference in the width of the front and the back page. But I was still left with a little less than half of my order not acceptable to me, so I asked if he'd give me yellow cartridge paper ever so slightly smaller than the tags so I can insert them like pages to detract the eyes, and he did this in an instant. Paul also gave me the exact dimensions of the yellow sheets so I could order if I need more. Best of all, the tags came back looking as fresh as the day I first received them; not worn, no corners bashed, and not looking tired and "handled".
I went to the galleries in town to swap the tags, and I came across a new problem. I punched holes in the top/center of the old tags; the news ones, since they look like books, I punch the top/left; wee plastic bags I sometimes use to attach yarn samples come with holes in the top/center.
I contemplated a long tag folding vertically, (the fold running horizontally,) as I thought it looks more like a garment tag, but I was more drawn to the booklet idea so the idea was rejected quickly. I'll worry about this if ever I have to order some more.
Actually, there is another wee problem. See, I used to use an inexpensive hole punch that made 1/4 inch holes; because I didn't like the look of these large holes in the new tags, I invested in a Frisker's 1/8 inch hole punch this time. The holes in the bags are somewhere in-between, but in real life looks better next to the 1/4 inch hole in the tag. Looking for small bags without the holes would be the quickest route, but I have about 80 bags left, so I shall worry about it later.
Of course all this is of a minor concern if I can weave spectacular, mind-blowingly fab pieces one after another. But I'm Japanese; I can't help thinking about the whole package, and these usually have quicker solutions than spectacular, mind-blowingly fab pieces one after another.
I have now been classified as a fussy customer of Speedy Print, (Paul said it much nicely,) and I'm happy about that. But I am also a satisfied customer.
Now if I could weave more quickly and consistently...
Weavers, and other "makers" in New Zealand, use the term "bread and butter" to describe work they make which are creatively nononerous but bring in quick/easy money. Now that I've been reminded of the word, "workaday" seems to describe this activity better; you put in the hours, pieces get made, and a small amount of money comes in. Kind of like office jobs I've had. Even though in the current economy even the small pieces aren't flying out the window. But I know you get the point. It's usually not very exciting cranking out these pieces off, at least not for me.
I've been thinking of what I perceive as my "workaday" pieces. Make no mistake, the same care goes into each of my piece, but the small 2/2 twill, (because it brings out the best hand,) cashmere scarves are my most workaday, followed closely by the 110/2 merino warp medium (about 30cm wide) and wide (between 75-84cm wide) pieces, including the latest. I honestly do appreciate your compliments, and it is a nice piece this latest, but I think you will understand when I say there was no real challenge, no something-new, in the making of the piece, and that is what I perceive as workaday.
So, I've been thinking of cashmeres in a different structure, and at least for a while, a markedly different appearance. And I've been contemplating Color & Weave and/or Shadow Weave.
* * * * *
The tags have been fixed, to the best of the printer's ability. Paul, the owner or manager of the company, cut the sides of the tags which had more than 1mm difference in the width of the front and the back page. But I was still left with a little less than half of my order not acceptable to me, so I asked if he'd give me yellow cartridge paper ever so slightly smaller than the tags so I can insert them like pages to detract the eyes, and he did this in an instant. Paul also gave me the exact dimensions of the yellow sheets so I could order if I need more. Best of all, the tags came back looking as fresh as the day I first received them; not worn, no corners bashed, and not looking tired and "handled".
I went to the galleries in town to swap the tags, and I came across a new problem. I punched holes in the top/center of the old tags; the news ones, since they look like books, I punch the top/left; wee plastic bags I sometimes use to attach yarn samples come with holes in the top/center.
Actually, there is another wee problem. See, I used to use an inexpensive hole punch that made 1/4 inch holes; because I didn't like the look of these large holes in the new tags, I invested in a Frisker's 1/8 inch hole punch this time. The holes in the bags are somewhere in-between, but in real life looks better next to the 1/4 inch hole in the tag. Looking for small bags without the holes would be the quickest route, but I have about 80 bags left, so I shall worry about it later.
I have now been classified as a fussy customer of Speedy Print, (Paul said it much nicely,) and I'm happy about that. But I am also a satisfied customer.
Now if I could weave more quickly and consistently...
Calendar
Calendars are important to me. I start looking for the following year's around August, and by about October I will have chosen one or two. The large visuals relate to something I want to aim in the coming year, colors, shapes, lines or mindset. And I have the smaller Cicely one to keep me grounded and write in work-related items only. I make a small ceremony for myself of buying calendars and a diary/appointment book every year, visualizing the cloths to come.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed Cicely had a diary, too. Or so I thought; it was near the diary section in the bookshop. Now, I know my Cicely products like the back of my hand, so I was in a slight panic not knowing of this new one, but it was perfect timing, and I took it down to have a look: A5 size, spiral bound, cover sketch very appropriate for where I am now. I opened the pages to see if I like the font and spacing for entries, and it was all white! No dates, no calendars, no lists of national holidays. And my mind went blank. Was that particular book faulty? Or is my 2011 going to be as blank as 2010?? Am I going to be as impotent for another whole year???
It turns out it wasn't a diary, it was a visual diary, a sketchbook, one I've coveted for years. But it took me a couple of dozen moments to gather my thoughts, the fragments of myself, to remember that, and I didn't feel relieved one bit.
I also had a strange Sunday. Outside was gloriously sunny, bright and hot, and I could have done anything I wanted to. I thought of putting on a warp, weaving the purple cotton piece, or designing a commission baby blanket. Or even reading up on one of the many structures I'm interested in right now; I could have gone over Sunner & Winter, return to Shadow or Color & Weave or Log Cabin, or just flip through the Eight Shaft book. But I didn't do it. I can't describe it, but the nearest I can tell is, I wasn't interested. I wasn't interested in textiles.
I could have read, drawn, cooked, gardened, whatever, but I was genuinely stunned I wasn't interested in textiles that I sat around contemplating the point. I better get a move on today before I loose my mojo completely.
In two days, it's December.
* * * * *
I always thought if ever I do a giveaway on this blog, I would have liked to have woven a bunch of little things to give away to many folks. I haven't gotten around to it, but it so happens Cecily was having a special, and I actually got two calendars, and I'd like to share one with you.
To enter, please leave in the comment section your dream textile holiday and money is no object. It can be a workshop, visiting/revisiting a region or a museum or a particular weaver, or going somewhere to learn a particular technique. I'll draw one winner on a completely biased, subjective, "wish-I-thought-of-it" basis this coming Sunday afternoon New Zealand time. Multiple entries welcome.
2010/11/25
"Friday Night Rain"
This is what I got from this warp.
As mentioned before, the color areas were created by unintentional/accidental placement of the colors in the variegated yarns. In real life the cloth is not as glittery as it appears here, but this mohair mix, in various colorways, has always been difficult to photograph.
The warp is 110/2 (2/17) merino; the weft is merino/mohair mix. Both were commercially dyed in the same/similar color schemes of lavender/lilac/purple/dark forest green. I used three short similar-but-different drafts, weaving sometimes from the top of the file, sometimes from the bottom. This combination of yarns usually creates a light, almost lacy cloth, but this piece turned out a little heftier in comparison.
Scenario: running to a social function after work on Friday night, in a city somewhere like Tokyo; rain starts to descend, but the spirit is filled with anticipation/celebration.
I had a hard time with life around me going on as per usual and media blasting continuously about Christmas sales. Everything felt very hollow, cheap, and shouty. But it was nice to finish a piece.
Scenario: running to a social function after work on Friday night, in a city somewhere like Tokyo; rain starts to descend, but the spirit is filled with anticipation/celebration.
I had a hard time with life around me going on as per usual and media blasting continuously about Christmas sales. Everything felt very hollow, cheap, and shouty. But it was nice to finish a piece.
Significant/Insignificant
After having had enough of feeling sorry for myself, I set off to work. I wanted to weave, but early on yesterday, we were actually hearing hopeful news from the Pike River Mine, and I felt upbeat about the accident and wanted to stay close to the TV. So I fringed.
All afternoon I had pictures on the television and news on the radio going, but it wasn't until a little after 4.50PM that we heard about the second explosion.
Even though we had been told about the high levels of gas and the possibility of subsequent explosions from the onset, the brain listened but the minds were dreamily hopeful. I don't think I would be exaggerating to say many were expecting a replay of the Chilean rescue, perhaps not yesterday afternoon, but in a few days.
Mine accidents are tragic anywhere in the world. If you are someone who prays, please include the 29 miners and their families in your prayers today.
Even though we had been told about the high levels of gas and the possibility of subsequent explosions from the onset, the brain listened but the minds were dreamily hopeful. I don't think I would be exaggerating to say many were expecting a replay of the Chilean rescue, perhaps not yesterday afternoon, but in a few days.
Mine accidents are tragic anywhere in the world. If you are someone who prays, please include the 29 miners and their families in your prayers today.
2010/11/24
'Tis the Season to Ponder Concepts
This morning, I woke up to a bad dream. I was at Refinery Art Space at an opening of a exhibition/production, when Lloyd Harwood approached me to let me know the Fiber ("Fibre", here) Arts Award show "Changing Threads" is officially on again in 2011; there, amongst happy, excited school kids, the concept of "concept" started to wear me down.
Before I go on with this woe-is-me post, (not really,) let me spread the word that this show is indeed on again. I swear to the Weaving Goddess I found this announcement in Facebook this morning!
I've been struggling with my life of a weaver, being my own boss, in control of my schedule, projects, life. There is so much I can be doing, but I've been unable to prioritize, to focus, and frustrated with how long each task/project takes to complete.
Although I've been hoping to add to my stock at the three galleries in town, (because I wasn't able to get to work on an Etsy store yet again this gift-giving season,) I haven't had pieces coming off of my looms. Which partly caused the lack of sales this year, although, again, it's my priorities that is skewed because I've had a long-standing commission on which I finally started working after a friendly nudge from the client. And worst of all, I haven't been lazy; I've been chiseling away at my mountain a little bit, every day.
As usual, I have theories. One is this "concept" thing: since I started thinking about art vs crafts, I feel guilty if I weave something not preceded with a drawn-out design process. I still feel I have to reinvent the wheel before every warp or series. I know it's silly but I haven't found a happy place of reasonable compromise.
The other is this. My dear mild-to-moderate depression started 18 months before I resolved to be a "proper" weaver; back then this meant since I was no longer willing to work in office jobs, I had to earn some money to finance my favorite hobby. Though I haven't been depressed for a year, I don't know how to operate when I'm well because I've never had the combination of not-depressed and being-a-weaver.
Though I have vague schedules, I am have become flexible, (which is a good thing for me in the scheme of things,) always aware that things may go down at any time. Pessimism? Maybe. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Not necessarily. As one learns to live with depression, we're taught to spot symptoms early so we are always aware, so it's pragmatism, (again, good for me.) The frustration of unproductivity hasn't been interrupted by depression meanwhile, so it's been building up like magma, occasionally spewing steam and hot rocks, but mostly turning into dread and foreboding quite different from depression.
While I was desperate to get better, I didn't pay much attention to my age other than as a number, but now that I've been better, I realize I'm 52 years old and seriously wonder how many good weaving years I've got left in me, what with all the minor physical problems tugging at my work shirt sleeves most days. How much time I have to learn and improve.
I know a good life. I live in a place where some folks call paradise. Ben is my rock and my soul mate, my provider and sometimes, cook. And though I covet, I really don't have to have any more books, yarns, or equipment to weave happily. Goodness knows I have plenty of books whose pictures I have studied over and over but never bothered with the words, and there are plenty more I can revisit and study. And though they are old and fragile, my parents in their early 80's still have reasonable lives; Mom and I still discuss our current and prospective waving projects every week.
I've been plagued by travel envy again. First there's the fact that we can't afford to travel, and if we could, we'd most probably go home to see my folks, again. I'm starting to wonder if I'll every visit places like Italy, France, Portugal or Croatia, or even Minneapolis and Maine (Halcyon!) in my lifetime. But this time the envy was triggered by the realization how many weavers travel long ways to attend conferences and workshops. That's definitely not on my dance card. The Internet has alleviated my sense of seclusion a great lead, quite remarkably even in the last five years, but I live in fear of being behind the times and therefore ignorant. So I read about your travels thirstily, and I study your photograph carefully. Then, some days, sadness descends.
And yet, most days, I want to be further secluded from the world and retreat to my cocoon and, yes, just weave. So there's no pleasing me. And that frustrates me; I wasn't always this grumpy old ingrate.
* * *
I received Best of Weavers' Summer & Winter book; there's a few weeks of good read in that slim volume. I always liked Weavers articles where they showed drafts and photos of all permutations of one idea because that's how I think and they save me from having to sample likewise. There are two more books I ordered before I discovered how really broke I am last week, ($1.83 in my account; I kid you not!) but these will keep me busy, potentially for the rest of my life.
I finished reading Donna Sullivan's Summer & Winter book the first time around. Talk about a slim volume jam-packed with information. I'm going back the second time and will do a post with what appeals to me. But I have to share this with you. I went and bought...
"Black barrel swivel with interlock snap, size 12" at the fishing shop for $5. It's the interlock part that I need and I might have to cut off the swivel part, but they didn't sell just the interlock part. Sullivan's book demonstrates how you can do Collinwood's shaft-switching with these little babies.
* * * * *
I was sick from Friday to yesterday; nothing to do with my head, just a cold; the type of cold I get once or twice a year where fever creeps up on me and if I don't take care it knocks me out for a couple of days. That must be why I was so uninspired over the weekend about stitching for the Indigo Evening. I stitched three pieces in an appalling just so I'd have something to dye, and ended up missing the Evening anyway.
India Flint's workshop in Nelson starts this weekend. I hope everybody has a fabulous time. Meanwhile, I'm going to put away my dye material for now and concentrate on weaving, with our without concepts.
Before I go on with this woe-is-me post, (not really,) let me spread the word that this show is indeed on again. I swear to the Weaving Goddess I found this announcement in Facebook this morning!
Although I've been hoping to add to my stock at the three galleries in town, (because I wasn't able to get to work on an Etsy store yet again this gift-giving season,) I haven't had pieces coming off of my looms. Which partly caused the lack of sales this year, although, again, it's my priorities that is skewed because I've had a long-standing commission on which I finally started working after a friendly nudge from the client. And worst of all, I haven't been lazy; I've been chiseling away at my mountain a little bit, every day.
As usual, I have theories. One is this "concept" thing: since I started thinking about art vs crafts, I feel guilty if I weave something not preceded with a drawn-out design process. I still feel I have to reinvent the wheel before every warp or series. I know it's silly but I haven't found a happy place of reasonable compromise.
The other is this. My dear mild-to-moderate depression started 18 months before I resolved to be a "proper" weaver; back then this meant since I was no longer willing to work in office jobs, I had to earn some money to finance my favorite hobby. Though I haven't been depressed for a year, I don't know how to operate when I'm well because I've never had the combination of not-depressed and being-a-weaver.
Though I have vague schedules, I am have become flexible, (which is a good thing for me in the scheme of things,) always aware that things may go down at any time. Pessimism? Maybe. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Not necessarily. As one learns to live with depression, we're taught to spot symptoms early so we are always aware, so it's pragmatism, (again, good for me.) The frustration of unproductivity hasn't been interrupted by depression meanwhile, so it's been building up like magma, occasionally spewing steam and hot rocks, but mostly turning into dread and foreboding quite different from depression.
While I was desperate to get better, I didn't pay much attention to my age other than as a number, but now that I've been better, I realize I'm 52 years old and seriously wonder how many good weaving years I've got left in me, what with all the minor physical problems tugging at my work shirt sleeves most days. How much time I have to learn and improve.
I know a good life. I live in a place where some folks call paradise. Ben is my rock and my soul mate, my provider and sometimes, cook. And though I covet, I really don't have to have any more books, yarns, or equipment to weave happily. Goodness knows I have plenty of books whose pictures I have studied over and over but never bothered with the words, and there are plenty more I can revisit and study. And though they are old and fragile, my parents in their early 80's still have reasonable lives; Mom and I still discuss our current and prospective waving projects every week.
I've been plagued by travel envy again. First there's the fact that we can't afford to travel, and if we could, we'd most probably go home to see my folks, again. I'm starting to wonder if I'll every visit places like Italy, France, Portugal or Croatia, or even Minneapolis and Maine (Halcyon!) in my lifetime. But this time the envy was triggered by the realization how many weavers travel long ways to attend conferences and workshops. That's definitely not on my dance card. The Internet has alleviated my sense of seclusion a great lead, quite remarkably even in the last five years, but I live in fear of being behind the times and therefore ignorant. So I read about your travels thirstily, and I study your photograph carefully. Then, some days, sadness descends.
And yet, most days, I want to be further secluded from the world and retreat to my cocoon and, yes, just weave. So there's no pleasing me. And that frustrates me; I wasn't always this grumpy old ingrate.
* * *
I received Best of Weavers' Summer & Winter book; there's a few weeks of good read in that slim volume. I always liked Weavers articles where they showed drafts and photos of all permutations of one idea because that's how I think and they save me from having to sample likewise. There are two more books I ordered before I discovered how really broke I am last week, ($1.83 in my account; I kid you not!) but these will keep me busy, potentially for the rest of my life.
I finished reading Donna Sullivan's Summer & Winter book the first time around. Talk about a slim volume jam-packed with information. I'm going back the second time and will do a post with what appeals to me. But I have to share this with you. I went and bought...
* * * * *
I was sick from Friday to yesterday; nothing to do with my head, just a cold; the type of cold I get once or twice a year where fever creeps up on me and if I don't take care it knocks me out for a couple of days. That must be why I was so uninspired over the weekend about stitching for the Indigo Evening. I stitched three pieces in an appalling just so I'd have something to dye, and ended up missing the Evening anyway.
India Flint's workshop in Nelson starts this weekend. I hope everybody has a fabulous time. Meanwhile, I'm going to put away my dye material for now and concentrate on weaving, with our without concepts.
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