And Once Again, with Thanks...

My family in Japan is safe. Thank you for asking.  As Shirley said, it's happening too often, isn't it?

In Japan we use a scale of our own, and around Miyagi Pref, the quake was around Scale 7, which neither Ben nor I had ever heard of; at least we don't remember a Scale 7 in recent years,  This region is one of the quake-prone regions and when I was a student they had at least one really big one.

Around Yokohama was Scale 5.  Normally, this is scary but not dangerous.  I remember the last time I was in a Scale 5, a good friend and I were having a night out in the town.  We were walking near a railway over-bridge, (the train goes above us?) and she halted and shouted.  I replied, "No, it's just the train passing," to which a nice policeman called out, "This is a big one, Miss."  I only remember many liquor stores suffering great damage, but not much else. 

This time, however, even the same Scale 5 appears to have been more serious. I got through to my brother via the Internet quite quickly because he was in the office, but the cell network was totally down, land line sporadic; my sister got a hold of me three hours after the fact; my parents had finally gotten through to her via an old-fashioned pay phone.

My parents were in a mall, a new and safe building.  Since the area around the mall has buildings, and since all trains had stopped, they asked customers to stay inside.  I don't know for how long, but I'm chuckling at the idea of Dad having to spend the night in a mall!  At least they have food, running water, and Ben reminded me, massage chairs!

My brother-in-law is safe but he's having to spend the night in his office. My mother is a fanatic when it comes to making homes quake-safe.  My sister said nothing fell in her house, and nothing broke; a good thing considering they have an impressive little collection of ceramics.

All things considered, my family came out unscathed.  But pockets of Yokohama and Tokyo, and the greater northern region, not so.

EDIT: I still can't ring any of them, so I sit and hope they can get through to me, or get on the Internet.

It turned out my parents did spend the night at the mall, and went home on 5.53AM train, to find not even a picture frame was out of place there.  Almost reverse-shocking.

My sister-in-law stayed overnight at her office, but brother and niece stayed at her parents' house, 5 minutes away from his house, and a condo in a new building.  But the blue ribbon goes to my brother-in-law, who not only walked home from work, 4.5 hours, but had contemplated this kind of an eventuality and had mapped out a route home before the event.  My sister would have preferred he stayed put in a safe place; she is happy and furious.

Power supply in parts of Yokohama is running low, so everybody is prepared for the possibility of power cut tonight.  Otherwise, my family, and Ben's, are all accounted for, with no scratches.  Thank you again for your concern.

I Never Said They Were Wrong...

But I now have to declare they were so right.  If you sell work at galleries, shops, or even in your own electronic venue, unless the contract or other conditions dictate otherwise, you must have at least 10-12 items in each shop at all times.

I never doubted the wisdom of weavers or gallerists who know better and appreciated their gentle nudging and coaxing, but when the same pieces sit in these galleries month after month, when nothing sells for an awfully long time, it is hard to be motivated to make new things. I even felt I was burdening the galleries by bringing in more.  But it's not true.

Last Friday I delivered two pieces to the Refinery and sold one that afternoon.  The week before, I delivered half a dozen Log Cabin pieces to the Suter and they sold one on last Sunday.  It may be all a fluke, but I'm having good luck: my total number of pieces sold this tax year jumped up to.... five!  (I know.  Pathetic, but it's a fact.) 

From the point of view of a consumer, (and I am often a prospective one when I go to any of the galleries stocking my pieces,) seeing only few works by an artist, especially someone I like and have followed, make me wonder if s/he is no longer serious about selling, at least in the venue I am in, and instead is concentrating on some other outlet or new creative ventures.  When there are only a few, sometimes familiar, pieces sitting forlornly, they look as if they've been neglected/abandoned by their makers. But even the old familiar pieces look happier in the company of newer work, as if they are surrounded by family.

So why I couldn't see my stuff in that light until now, I don't know.  When I see my pieces in galleries, I see individual pieces, and do a mental row call, a head count, but don't see them collectively.  I'm starting to understand the pleasure gallerists show when I (or any other artists) deliver new pieces is not only a reflection of their personal support for artists, but also because they can add more excitement/flavor to their galleries.     

So, in between my slightly-scratchy red warp threading, I made two more cashmere warps.  The colors in this photo is inaccurate, but I couldn't fix it any more; nevertheless, I'm ready.  I doubt I can get started on these until after my trip, but I have renewed enthusiasm form my Bread-and-Butter line, and appreciation for my gallerists.  Bliss!

These two warps will most likely be woven in Log Cabin again, because recently while looking for something else, I came across these collages and thought this method would work great in thinking about Log Cabin colors.

Untitled

Often when I'm weaving, I chuckle to myself because I'm doing something so old, time-consuming and archaic, in this 21st Century. Weaving is so slow and so low-tech, and other-worldly.

I tried to be light-hearted about threading today, but the wool was slightly scratchy and I was overcome with boredom several times; I had to take long breaks, go away and read a magazine, watch television, and eat frozen yoghurt.

I threaded just shy of 1/3 of this warp.

Time

My baby brother turns 40 today. It's looking to be a busy but wonderful decade for him and his family.  Bless him and bless them all.

Whoa! Good Luck with Weaving??

Apologies for the sickly looking photo; I was in a hurry to post it on my family blog to ask something.

You need to know that in Japan we "mix" religions easily, because "religion" is less philosophical/metaphysical, and more a matter of habit/customs.  When children are born, we take them to a Shinto shrine to pray for long and healthy life; plenty of Japanese marry in Christian churches, but at the end, most people are farewell at Buddhist funerals.  As religions arrived from the west, (not The West, because until around 1868, most/all foreign influence came via China and Korea,) they often built on top of pagan and other preexisting customs, rituals, and thinking.

(Do take what I write with a grain of salt as I come from a long line of Skeptics and Agnostics, but then many Japanese are not philosophically/metaphysically religious.) 

What's different about Japan and The West is we never had an overwhelmingly strong religion covering up and taking over the older traditions.  That's why we're fine with mixing pagan, Shinto, Buddhist, Taoist, and even Christian traditions and rituals. Christian missionaries have always been suspicious of the commitment of "rice-eating Christians" because even the most committed don't behave like a monotheist.       

I'm finally getting to the heart of this post.  Sorry.  

My parents recently visited the older parts of Tokyo, and in one of the shrines Dad bought me a lucky charm, as you do, of Daikokuten.  He's a Buddhist guy who found his way to becoming one of "ancient"/pagan Seven Lucky Gods.  He's usually considered the money god, and I'm sure Dad sent this to me tongue-in-cheek because I'm always whining about not having money.

I've been looking at his smiley face for days, but I read the blurb for the first time this morning.  It reads something like this:

Daikokuten Lucky Charm (Eradicates seven kinds of hardship and causes, immediately, seven kinds of luck)

He is a god who controls: Food/Drink, Match/Marriage, Work, Business, Social Stability, Wealth, Science, Agriculture and Weaving.

(And then in verse) When Daikoku shakes his Lucky Mallet, he proceeds without hardship and obstacles.  (It sounds a lot better than my translation.)

Fukagawa Fudo Do (name of the shrine)

Notwithstanding the blurb-writer's hardship with math, yeah, I mean, weaving? I thought the word had more than one meaning, like perhaps craft in general or women's work, or cottage industry, but several online dictionaries translated the word as "weaving of cloth on looms, or weavers"!!

Well, blow me away.  What more can I say!  I'm going to visit as many Daikokuten shrines as possible in the upcoming trip!!

Another One Bites the Dust

I learned from Mama yesterday that my favorite notions shop in Yokohama is closing its doors at the end of the month.  It's the store where I got the sewing silks last year.  I suppose the "good" news is it's not closing because of the economy.  An entire area around Yokohama Station is going to be demolished and rebuilt as a result of Kobe earthquake and many regional authorities finally taking a hard look at the safety of older public buildings.  The really bad news is they are not relocating or reopening, as far as Mom could find out.


The store, called Sanada, was in an unattractive underground area near a tunnel connecting the West and East exits of Yokohama Station.  Way, way back, in early-mid 60's, returned (from WWII) soldiers with missing limbs used to dress in Pilgrims' White, play accordions, and beg.  There was very little light and walking through the tunnel was the closest thing to looking into the world of the dead for me.  In fact when I was 6 and 7 and 8, I wasn't sure if some of them were dead or alive, and I had to ask Mama "what" they were.

As the country became wealthier and the soldiers passed on, there were fewer and fewer of these men hanging about, and in the 80's and 90's when they tried to pretty up this tunnel, the remaining guys were, I can only imagine, conveniently relocated.

At the West end of this tunnel, in what still feels like gigantic bomb shelter, there was this independently-owned emporium of mostly notions and fabrics.  If you came through the tunnel from the East side, it was surviving hell and jumping into heaven.  There used to be bolts of fabric, drawers of French, Belgian and Italian buttons and big spools of Swiss ribbons.  From memory, gradually they yarns and other craft material started to take up more space about 20 years ago, and last year there were more books and kits. 

When I was a student, I often when there, took a couple of hours to look around the entire shop, and then came home with 1 meter of ribbon, or a couple of pieces of felted wool, for no reason, but to save then in a cookie tin.  Sometimes I'd make something with these, sometimes I used them for gift-wrapping, but most of the time I just looked at the wee treasures and felt good. 


I liked their understated decor, because it exuded serious, grown-up handwork.  They didn't kowtow to fashion too much and never neglected the basics, and I know many of their clients were professional dressmakers.  I used to love to listen in on their conversations with the capable staff.

We still have a giant chain called Yuzawaya, a relative newcomer, and I assume I can find everything I might need.  Mama says they are trying hard to shed the discount-store mold, but they will never replace the local, independently-owned loveiness.

Labels and Tags

This is the aforementioned problem with my labels and tags as regards some of my pieces.

As you can see, this piece was damaged when a customer pulled on an old tag (lighter) when it was hanging from the label at the left edge of the hem.  The scarf hung in a rather precarious position in the gallery, where people walk under or past it, so I was aware this was a possibility with more loosely woven pieces or pieces made of softer yarns. But I never expected to see such pulling occur with this hem.

Now that my tags are much heavier, I had to think of a more secure way to hang them without causing damages to the piece itself.  So in the right, I put one end of the thread though the scarf itself; luckily this piece has lacy parts I could thread through without making holes in the piece.  Not so with every piece, so I need to put more thought into how to manage the labels and the tags.

The new label was sewn on the right side so as not to hide the fault.  All the tender pulling and steaming couldn't hide it, so if ever I decide to sell or give this one away I'd like the prospective buyer or recipient to know it's there.

On Giving, and the Boundless Capacity for Guilt

I went to a Catholic convent school in Tokyo for ten years if you recall, so from early on we were taught to make sacrifice, give, and oh, pray, every time a disaster struck. It meant asking Mama for yet another hundred yen because I didn't have much pocket money and my parents often put them in my bank account anyway, but good on Mama because looking back things were tight in those days. Still, I've always kept informed of disasters this side of Biafra and have given at whichever post office I happened to walk by, (and there are many in Japan,) specifying the disaster I wish to give to, entering the amount and handing over money.  It was too easy. Of course these days, it's even easier to give not only within New Zealand but anywhere I please.

Looking back, I took to heart what the teachers and nuns did and not what they said. I conscientious keep updated about a disaster, feel powerless, give a little money, continue to feel powerless, then move on to the next disaster. And if there is no Calamité de Jour, there are always causes and regions that can use my sympathy.

In my 20s and 30s I looked into ways I can participate without medical training, but the Japanese Peace Corp-like organizations had no use for untrained, (if not in medicine, at least something practical,) volunteers, and this was in the days of mostly newspaper adverts, so unless you lived in a disaster-struck region, I believe there was little one could do except to give money.  I think Kobe was the first time un-specialized youth descended from all over the country to help out, but we were in New Zealand by then.   

It's not exactly giving, but I've been a lender at Kiva for a year and a half.  At first I was excited to take part, and enjoyed reading descriptions of entrepreneurs and selecting weavers or women otherwise involved in textiles as much as possible.  It's also a great way to stay involved if your disposable income fluctuates, as once you make a few initial deposits, you get paid back and can roll that money to lend to someone else.  But lately I felt awful catalog-shopping in this manner from the comfort of my home office.  Who am I go play god like that? I keep rolling my money to the next female entropic, but I feel less joy. 

Then came this second Christchurch earthquake.  The damage is visible and it's going to take a long time to remedy, and the press gave it unprecedented coverage, and it's the nearest disaster I've experienced.  There are plenty of worthy groups and regions in New Zealand and elsewhere that don't get press coverage, and without taking anything away from the seriousness of this quake, to be brutally honest, some need more than Christchurch does collectively. Still, the opportunity presented itself in the form of Handmade for Christchurch, and this was a big opportunity to give back to my adopted home country. 

I felt embarrassed because I didn't make anything special for the auction; they were pieces I collected for my perpetually-soon-to-come Etsy shop, (and one piece I'd forgotten about,) sitting, waiting on the stash room floor, some had sat in galleries in town.  Many were... leftovers. Still, the experience of dealing with H4C volunteers has been ever so heart-warming and uplifting. If all goes well, I would have contributed so much more than if I only had the option to give money. So I'm trying to focus on what I can do and do that well, rather than what I didn't get around to doing.  Sampling suggested that, and she's right, you know.

Maybe I did listen to what the teachers and nuns said as well; one of the things I have in boundless amounts is to find guilt everywhere. I think I"ll go now and wrap the donated items and pack to post.

Saturday Morning Blather

It was another unusual week; eventful may be the right word. 

I spent much of the week preparing to send stuff to Handmade for Christchurch, both physically and electronically.  I had intended to send four more cottons, but I found minute damages in two, so I stopped at 12.  These damages are due to the material of my labels and the weight of my tags hanging from the labels; so, inadvertently, a good lesson for me and a change of tactics; I'll show you what I mean some time.
 
Pricing for charity is difficult; I didn't want to undercut galleries or clients who have already bought similar pieces, so I withdrew similar pieces from the galleries and had to think of past prices.  (My record keeping is a little beyond shocking, so I didn't even go there.) I just couldn't remember the price of one series, but I hope I'm forgiven because it was a few years ago.

I had no idea for good start bid prices; it appears there are no similar stuff donated to H4C, so I made a rule for myself to ask for roughly 1/3 to 1/4 of what I thought the retail prices might have been. Experimental pieces and woven-just-for fun pieces were easier. I'm still not sure if some are set too high, and because it's charity, I so desperately want them to be affordable and attractive and to sell.  For the Sallies and Women's Refuge, and for H4C.

And... yeah, it would be a little embarrassing if nobody bids, but I have a couple of ideas about what to do if that happens. 

* * * * *

The TV earthquake coverage has been curtailed, somewhat after the one week mark on Tuesday, and quite a bit more after rescue turned into recovery on Thursday, and what coverage they do tended to be more tabloid, so I'm not interested. I've been listening to National Radio more, as they continue to alter their program somewhat, but all in all it was probably good timing because I've been thinking I need to ween myself from the coverage a little bit.   

The "smoke" in the living room has "spread" into the office early in the week and started to give me a stinging sensation inside my nose; it started to give me a weak but stinging sensation in my mouth around Thursday; crept into the bedroom Thursday night; and finally it came with me to the drawing class yesterday.

It's not 24/7, and when it really bothers me, I put on nice smelling salves or drink lovely smelling tea, but I wished it were a less alarming smell, so I don't rush around looking for fire every so often. 

Thursday night, Kath told me a friend of hers thought it was a ghost of a person who died in fire or smoke.  Kath and I don't believe in the supernatural too seriously, but I did think of two groups of Japanese students who parishes in English language school in the Canterbury TV building, the only building top have suffered from extensive fire after the quake. Kath told me her friend said  my ghost/s had unresolved issues so I needed to ask what they wanted and then ask them to go away.  And not knowing how to communicate with ghosts, I left a pen and a notepad in the living room Thursday night.

I really did!

Because I still think the smell of smoke is psychosomatic, if there were such lost souls, and if I could help, (I had in mind a young Japanese man to tell his parents a final "thanks" or some such,) I wasn't going to let my skepticism get in the way.  But no message in the morning.  Though the lid of the CD player was open.

It. Was.  

* * * * *

Friday morning class was good.  Ronette swapped classrooms so we had a wee bit more space, and we had a lovely model, and all was good.  We did pale wash and minimum contours or darker wash, and it was hard to not overdo the contours.  One extra line ruined the whole lot, but it was exciting to thinking about maximum effect for minimum drawing.

After lunch I delivered two pieces to the Refinery, not the alpacas, chatted with Roger, spoke to Lloyd as he shot out the building, went to the Red to see the teal/burnt-orange painting again, (which turned out to be a much more scintillating painting that I had thought last week; I can see why Jay loves it,) tried to politely and secretly exorcise myself of the alpaca scarves but couldn't because the swing tags were attached too securely and I didn't have scissors with me. 

I went to the cinema to see what was playing, didn't find anything unless I was to wait nearly two hours, discovered a bus was leaving in 10 minutes, ran, hopped on the bus, and came home.  I turned on the computer to email Ben that I was home, (so he wouldn't wait for me to show up at his office at the end of his work day,) found an email from Lloyd telling me Refinery sold one piece, so they need another!  First sale in more than six months.

Ben came home with easy-to-assemble supper parts, handed me mail from the Suter, (another sale!), and we sat down for a decadent wine and snack supper. I was feeling exhausted and bothered by the smoke.  Later, I was still watching the telly when Ben shouted and told me to come to the office right away.  I slowly made my way like a slug, when he showed me one of my pieces had been listed on H4C and someone had put a bid already! (Thank you so very much, Judy!)

What can I say?  Life is good. I doubled the number of items sold this tax year, (April - March), in one afternoon.  I'm finally contributing to H4C.  The Weaving Goddess is looking after me.

Where there is no Smoke...

Life continues to be a bit strange for me, a little on the edge.  I'm looking for a new norm.

I wound the very red warp on the big loom on Tuesday, and had intended to start threading yesterday, but instead I spent the afternoon with Kath Bee. Ostensibly we worked to consolidate and simplify Kath's various Internet presence, (we made some progress, thank you!) but we also talked about natural disasters and ways in which those of us far away can help. Particularly those of us without medical skills or cash. Kath has become involved with Purple Cake Day, a fundraiser started by a Nelson woman who lost family in Haiti, and Kath told me about this new event/group. We talked about press, politics, scale, and value of one life, all topics I've been thinking about for a long time.

Meanwhile, Handmade for Christchurch has made it easy for me to do something about one disaster, and I continue to prep my bit of donation for my adopted home country.  Truth to tell, I really enjoy dealing with the women behind H4C and they keep me wanting to do more for them.

I still smell smoke; it may be getting stronger, and I'm now checking the space under the roof every so often, but I can't find anything. But just in case there is something somewhere, I haven't lit candles or used aromatic oils.

OK, today's donation next, and then threading.