How Many Posts Shall I En/title "Lettuce"?

January 8.  We had crazy wind and blaring sun yesterday, and the ground looked dry, but thanks to the rain on Thursday, the ground under the surface was sufficiently moist.  I know this because when I watered, the water stayed on the surface and created small pools, whereas last week before the rain, no matter how much I watered, it went right though as if through a sieve.

I am happy to see the quick regeneration of lettuce in the lower right quadrant.  And some (most) of what I thought was new weed growth in the on the top right quadrant turned out to be the rocket I sewed on Tuesday.  I must have spilled the seeds for them to create an L-shape, because I thought I made two short horizontal rows.  Basil at the far end is taking off now that I've removed the bolted rocket and the sun hits them directly.

Ben likes to keep the green onions until the moment he wants to use them; I'm tempted to take them all out and weed and put bok choi in.  I've left the lower left quadrant empty so I can kneel and weed between the onions; must do this really soon.  

Returning Where?

With the red cashmere warp, I found myself revisiting something I did at the earliest stages of my weaving.

I think it was in 1997. I had owned my first four-shaft jack floor loom for two years, but never wove on it, because I was intimidated by it. And even though I coveted four shafts so I could weave twills, and undulating twills in particular, the first warp I finally decided to put on was plain weave. I think I told myself I wanted to get used to the loom first, but the fact is, having woven only on a rigid heddle for so long, the concept of twill boggled my rigid mind, and I did not understand the structure.  And I still tend not to try a new structure until I "understand" it.  (I wove my first undulated twill in, I think, 2002, on my current jack loom.)

I wanted to weave a set of napkins/serviettes with my Swedish cottolins, of which I had many shades of blue, a green, a pale yellow and a pink.  But I wanted something more than mere arrangements of colors.

I found a lovely example in "Handwoven's Design Collection 15: Sensational Scarves", page 4, and of course it was a lovely blue piece.  The example uses two weights of cottons in stripes in the warp and the weft, ergo creating a check with density.   I read the instructions on page 2, and to my amazement, it was dead easy to understand.  There was the minor point of the example using threads of two weights, whereas all my cottolins were the same size, but I figured using three ends in place of the thicker yarn would work, so I put on a warp.

The vertical stripes worked like a charm, but my beating was unsteady and I decided to weave in stripes and not checks. (To this day, I am intimidated by strips for fear of inconsistent beating.) Here they are, 14 years later, my well-loved set is a little stiffer, but still in use especially when we go on picnics.

Back then, I don't remember calculating the different DPIs, but I played it by ear, or eye in this case.  And I admire my gutsy newbie self.

I had a warp in five or six different reds in a random order, and some time in the last week or so for no apparent reason I had decided I was going to weave the same crammed/spaced plain weave.  But this time I changed the width of "stripes" as well as the EPI several times before I was willing to sample.

At first I wanted to weave "clear" colors, and tried dark grays and black as well as several purple/blues.  But I enjoyed the unexpected results in my last warp, where the color of the cloth were quite different from what one might expect looking at the individual colors used.  (I promise I'll take pictures of the Log Cabin scarves once I wet-finish them.) I wanted to do some samples with unexpected combinations, and with a red warp, what better (or worse) than green wefts??

I like the "clarity" in sample with the darkest purple weft; it would be a rather stark looking piece.  The different reds stand out equally against the black weft, making it almost a severe piece.  But I can't stop looking at the dark green weft sample, (the one further away,) either; the green is a slightly blue olive green, but in the cloth it almost looks a nuanced gray, much nicer than the three grays I sampled. 

I don't know if I am going to stay with these DPIs; the washed but not pressed sample looks a little too rustic for my taste, especially in the spaced parts.  I don't know if I will weave pieces with one weft color, or mix and even attempt a check.

Colors are  interesting; the more I look, the more I prefer the unlikeliest combinations.  And I get to sample them and decide which ones to use; it is a little bit like playing god.

Sun, Wind, Did I Mention the Sun??

January 7.  We had some rain yesterday morning, and then it's been sunny as anything, and I see weeds coming back where I put in rocket, in the top right quadrant. Heck...

I am supposed to be working on my minuscule tax return; some years it takes a day, others it takes two days to do this; but it's usually preceded by days and weeks of procrastination.  Instead I fixed my red cashmere warp downstairs this morning, and did a small sample piece; I don't like the look of it, so I'm going to sleep on it and maybe change the threading or undo the crammed/spaced sleying. 

Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up feeling like doing the taxes. 

Point of View

January 6. Lovely, gentle, but not tentative rain, since around midnight continues.  It's good for the soul.  I ended up not going outside yesterday, so, no weeding, nor new planting, (just a big salad,) and I won't have to contemplate it today.

But I took a few photos of the red lettuce leaves because I was getting close to panicking that I was not getting anything visual or inspirational from my lettuce patch.

I am a details person.  Not only do I never see the forest for the trees, I seldom see the trees for the leaves, and sometimes even the whole leaf for a lovely curve on the perimeter or an interesting patterns of the veins.  Maybe it's partially due to my extreme near-sidedness.  So choosing a lettuce patch turned out to be a good choice because it is a whole area, albeit tiny, and within it a whole lot of things are happening, both on the surface and underneath, both in what I can see and what I can't; nutrients for example.  (Wow, I wasn't planning on going there when I started that sentence! The unseen??)

And here are a couple of other images I found recently.

We went to see bone carver and Maori musical instrument maker Brian Flintoff on Tuesday after I finished weeding.  Among other things, he talked about how wind and water makes marks and carves stones.  (Stones shaped by wind is called, by the way, ventifacts; I like that word.)

He found the base stone near Kaikoura, southeast of Nelson, famous for whale watching.  Because it's a soft rock, water has made detailed tracks rather than simply washing over and smoothing the stone.   Now that I have a closer look, I wished I asked if he found it in a river or the sea, but would I be right in guessing it probably was in a pool or some place similar where water flows in all direction? 

The other image I found is, believe it or not, a photo of human bones from a person who had bad osteoporosis.  I was flipping through magazines while working on the Sketchbook Project, and saw this and thought it was pretty.  After reading the caption I was alarmed, but if I didn't know it was osteoporosis, if I can ignore the fact, I still find the image intriguing.

A TinyTiny Collage Project

Here's a very light-hearted challenge, spurred on by Linda's comment.  (Thank you, Linda, I needed the "tinytiny" suggestion.)

Do a collage, small or large; one, a few, or many.  Take out your L-shapes, view finder, or use your hands, (do the "looser" sign with both your hands,) and look for areas of weaving interest. (I'll leave it up to you to define "weaving".)  Mark your favorites and show us, and tell us why you like them.

It'd be nice to see the whole collage/s as well as the details, I think, but I'll leave it up to you.  As usual, send me the link if you are posting yourself, or send me JPGs by the end of Sunday, February 13th, your time, so we can make the Big Reveal on February 14th, St Valentine's Day! (But that doesn't have to be the theme.)

The Skill of Observation

January 5. Yesterday morning was overcast and cooler, so I went and pulled out the bolted rocket, leftover bolted spinach, and dead broad beans. After that, there was little weeding needed, and I put in some more rocket and basil at the top right quadrant.  I worked for exactly an hour because we had to be somewhere.  Time limits in gardening may work for me; it's easier to get out when I know I'm going to be there only until... 

This morning, I've been procrastinating. It's cool again and the plan was go finish weeding the bottom half and put in some bok choy and sorrel, but it's partly sunny and I haven't come up with a time limit so I've been inside contemplating weeding for over two hours.   (But I exercised a little in that time.)

Your comments, (they really help, thanks!) and further reading of Rachel's blog explicate the painful point, that I am really bad at observation, the skill of receiving. Because this is a lettuce patch, I see it in terms of what I need to do to make it work to the best of its ability, (I always come out more a man than a woman in personality tests); in this case to produce delicious edible greens for our table.  The photos over the last few days I've perceived more like another To Do list.  Plus I don't know if it's living in New Zealand (practical people, Kiwis) or getting older, but I have noticed I've become far more pragmatic and realistic.  So my wish lists, want lists, even the Artist's-Way-style dream lists consist of things by and large accomplish-able in my current means and abilities.  In fact, I remember a few years ago I wrestled even with the notion of a dream list.  I so lack imagination.  

While I won't stop improving the veggie patch, I need to observe it as well.

(Oh, though it's a different kind of observation, I discovered my little experiment with lettuces worked.  See, in the bottom right quadrant, I planted seeds like I normally do, spread apart as recommended in the packet, with a seeds in each hole.  Each plant has room to grow, but so do weeds.  In the top left quadrant, I crammed them in rows, but left spaces between the rows, and not only is it easier to cut off the leaves, weeds don't have much room and what little growing in between I can pick out when I wash the leaves.  Hee hee.)

Reading Rachel's blog also makes me reexamine individual propensity for art making.  It's early days, I've only got up to Feb 2009, but she portrays such joy and thrill in working with concepts, designing, being open to surprises, and moving her hands.  Maybe she's naturally an optimistic happy person, (because I've noticed I'm becoming bitterer and more pessimistic,)  maybe it's her youth, (contrast there, too,) or perhaps she hasn't recorded what's been difficult thus far in her blog.  But I am amazed and elated about her art making; I picture her spirit/heart like a fairy with translucent wings in the drawings of this one artist I used to love whose name completely escapes me and I'm not going to spend another 20 minutes Googling.  In contrast too stark that it's actually a little upsetting, my making feels heavy; my mindset is weighted and burdened by among other things my age, my methods, my own expectations, my body, and words.

Enough said; it's nearly three hours of procrastinating.  I'm going to go and do something now.

Lettuce

January 4: there is a bit of purple growth missing from this picture because we had a big salad last night.

There was a hint of rain around 9AM, but out Richmond way it looks clear, so I doubt we're getting any reprieve. But I might rush out and weed a little more before the sun comes back full force. 

Words and concepts which come to mind in the first instance are: growth, decay, resurgence, and healthy eating; followed by water, sun, heat, and dirt.  And mites.

Ben's last day off today.  And a day off from the Sketchbook, which is almost done.  Phew!

Self-Inflicted

January 3: watered and ever-so-slightly weeded lettuce patch; the dying/dead spinach plants were taken out.  

It's only the third day, and I got out of bed wondering what on earth I'm doing chronicling my lettuce patch.

Last night was so hot we didn't have the usual (9PM-ish) evening breeze until 11PM or so, and we couldn't get to sleep until 2 in the morning.  I went to sleep thinking how hot my little lettuces and pot plants must be.

I woke up at 7.30 and thought to water them before I forget.  Afterwards, I toyed with the idea of weeding, but a) it's going to be another hot day, even though the patch doesn't get the sun for a few more hours; b) the bugs are already out; the annoying tiny white jumping bugs make me sneeze and itch; plus b) the Sketchbook is taking oh, so much longer than I had expected.  I'm enjoying some of it still, but my interest is waning; I'd really rather be weaving.

Pictures

We went berry picking on New Year's Eve morning. At the back I found crates wrapped up in plastic wraps, with twists for extra strength. To me, the lines remind me of architectural/industrial designs; it's pretty in a trans-lucent, "regular but not regimented" way. 

I've become smitten with some of Rachel Beckman's work and started reading all the way back from her first post in October 2008.  Early on she had an assignment where she needed to photograph something, the same thing, for the duration of a month and post them and then design/create a piece based on this experience.  She ended up creating a lovely Ikat piece, which is what Cally discovered in the first place, and I decided to emulate part of it.  That is, photographing my messy lettuce patch for the month of January and posting them here. 

This was my patch as seen in the morning of January 1.

I chose the lettuce patch because I thought it could embarrass me into tidying it, but for now I've got the Sketchbook Project that is dire, so I'll have to showing you what a slob I am.  And as regards garden-messiness, I have developed quite a thick skin so what's new is I'm not only talking about it now, but am actually showing it.  It'll only take up to half a day so I will get on to it shortly.  

I am a gazer, and by that I mean, I don't pay intellectual attention while I'm looking at them, but I slump into an emotionally slumber. I just gaze and be in love for the moment.  I learned in my drawing class that by consciously and conscientiously looking at things, and for me, many, many times over months and years, there are things about the object/subject I learn without knowing I'm learning, that known bits bypass words and understanding and sitting relaxed on the couch in my brain as if they've always been there.  And when I draw, there are things I learn that even bypass the eyes, but go straight from hand/arm to the couch.  I never had descent eye-hand coordination in sports, but I guess drawing is allowing me have that kind of experience.  I think also getting used to one's looms and tools do similar things, but when I weave I'm preoccupied with what is being woven I never has time to consider how my body/brain were learning.  

But shooting my lettuce patch for a month - what's that gonna do to my weaving?  It's not as if I gavz at or observe my mess, so there hasn't been much learning so far.  In fact, I go outside, (my lettuce patch is about three meters from my door), shoot a few, rush back inside, and upload.  But I'm going to do this for a month.  I may become interested in some details, or the structure or design of something.  Or I may not knowingly do anything with these, except to eat what I grew.

I will, though, photograph the patch and upload for one month, and that's a tiny bit of discipline I think I can manage.  And on January 31, I can feel good I'll have finished one small project already. 
Besides, who doesn't love lettuce??

This is January 2.

A Day in The Life of Looms 2011

Mine, around 12PM, 1/1/2011, (11PM 31/12/2010 GMT) Nelson, New Zealand, 41°18 0"S/173°13'10"E.

Rigid Heddle: often on my mind but seldom in action 

8-shaft sample loom on permanent loan: all in good time.

12-shaft Klik: I thought having a semi-permanent sample warp is a waste of a good loom, but it works to work out ideas and learn structures, because this is a particularly easy loom to thread.

Usually the star, a retrofit 16-shaft computer-controlled Thorp, playing the "back seat" for now.

4-shaft Naggi jack and the cashmere factory.

Rose, Blenheim, New Zealand.

On the countermarch loom, the last of a linen/cotton teatowel warp. Warp is blue and white with navy stripes outlined with supplementary coloured warps.

On the jack loom a soft cream cotton warp at 16 epi and handspun silk weft which has been sitting around for years.

The sample loom is empty but here it is with two books of crepe weave samples made on it during 2010.

And here are some more looms:

Cally

Sue

Marion B

Dianne

Gjeani

Susan B

Sampling

Desiree

Jolanda

Trapunto

Theresa

Sandra

To our patient looms and faithful tools, our own infinite wisdom and boundless patience,
and nice even tension with every warp in 2011!

Thank you, weavers.