While I walked around Brisbane and inside the galleries, I felt compelled to have to learn things that would directly tie in with my work. I thought that was the purpose of my trip, and kept shooting ordinary repeat patterns in architecture, mumbling, "How can I use this?" and the answers were usually, "I can't, not really, it's boring."
Then, while crossing one of the long bridges across Brisbane River, I asked myself what's wrong with just enjoying, looking and experiencing art, and I had no good answer. That's when I decided that not "studying" art but just enjoying isn't a bad thing, and that I'm not wasting my time or money just savoring the sensation. And that's when I decided I didn't have to take pictures of every interesting building or sculpture or crack in the sidewalk.
A month removed, these two paragraphs read so ordinary and you may ask why I'm bothering to post this, but I have a very bad memory and whenever I go away the urge to record for myself what I'm experiencing usually wins over the urge to just immerse myself where I am and experience it, and I end up with a lot of pictures, especially this side of digital, with which I don't know what to do after I upload them to the computer, and still feel guilty culling.
This was one of the few trips in I've managed to concentrate on seeing, hearing, smelling and a little bit of touching and eating Brisbane, and didn't bother to photograph or record, (i.e. write, or worse yet, list!) as much as I might have.
This was a big shift, and a big load off my shoulders. I don't know if I can always do this, and there were a few things I wished I had photographed, (students in bedsheets stampeding in torrential rain rushing to what must have been one giant toga party my first night would be at the top of the list,) but I think I made the trip a more saturated experience because of this.
I feel I established a bit less adversarial relationship with art, and a bit more amicable one with myself.
Note to self: try this again.
2012/03/24
Brisbane
One month ago today, I left on a five-day trip to Brisbane, Australia to see a Matisse exhibition. It already feels like ages ago.
This afternoon I was looking through photos I took while there, and discovered I didn't take many, and they are all of appalling qualities, partially due to the weather during my stay, which was either tropical torrential rain, (some places "near" Brisbane started flooding before I left,) or humid tropical blaze. It was, though, was an eye-opening trip for me, so I'll post a few photos. (All the galleries except Matisse allowed photography, but I didn't take a lot and the few I did came out, oh, so badly.)
This map is way out of proportion. The Queensland Performance Art Centre (far left) was like a small city on its own.
Inked and sun-burned. The day I went to see Matisse, I think I was inside GOMA between six and seven hours.
Just outside the Matisse exhibition was big area where visitors were encouraged to draw.
Cafe adjacent to the Matisse exhibition; I loved the bird cage lamps.
This is a function area of of the State Library of Queensland; it was a spacious indoor/outdoor area with kitchen facilities, but on both occasions I went there there was nobody around. In the panels on the sides was some of their teacup collections. I saw the teacups from far away and really wanted to get to this space, but once there most of the panels are so high up I couldn't see the cups very well.
Ground floor, Queensland Art Gallery. I sat on a bench for about an hour reflecting on all the art I saw in Queensland, and envied the largeness of scale of everything Australia. I tried to memorize this place so whenever I meditate, or feel in need of an escape, I can return in my head.
Close-up of the picture frame of a Lautrec painting.
Wheelchair ramp, Queensland Art Gallery. Even close up, it looked like a tapestry, but this was paint on board, from memory.
The Treasury Casino, formerly the state treasury building, and what a beautiful building it is. Across the street, on this side, was a "modern/public art" piece that looked like a giant kitchen utensil. There are so many public sculptures in central Brisbane.
Batman's HQ, I thought...
New part of Brisbane; thinking of Christchurch, I didn't want to be in this part of town very much.
During the guided tour of the Matisse exhibition, we spent quite a long time in front of the drawings for the Barnes Murals because there were few visitors who were particularly interested in the work. The following morning, I opened my balcony window, and, whoa, serendipity.
Brisbane was lovely. And fantastic. And mind-blowing. But I was glad I live in Nelson, because Brisbane offered too many distractions for me to concentrate on my making. This was shot from my balcony window before I left.
Brisbane was big, bright, but not as brash as I had expected. The scholarship behind not just the Matisse exhibition but many others at both GOMA and QAG were high; they installed/hung artworks beautifully; printed material, lectures, and films associated with the exhibitions, many free, were excellent, and the staff, paid and volunteers, were exceptionally well-informed.
The galleries were beautiful, with plenty of indoor and outdoor sitting areas to rest and reflect on the artworks; bookshops were well-stocked with interesting and/or rare books in addition to their own publications; even the cafe food was great. I was mesmerized by the combined largeness and excellence of the galleries and shows, and felt strong multiple jolts telling me Nelson is a small place and there is so much out there in the big wide world.
Australia, and particularly Queensland at the center of Australian mining industry, has not been touched by the recent recession. Everything was expensive, including the exhibition catalogue (A$50, and no, I didn't get it, because it was so heavy!), accommodation, and food. Because I stayed in an apartment, I cooked most of my meals, having only two lunches at the galleries, but still I ran out of cash I took with me quickly and the trip cost far more than I had estimated. Although entry to most galleries were free; I think I only paid for the Matisse exhibition, which was A$20.
On the other hand, having lived in financial dire straits, both personal and worldwide, for quite a few years, I had forgotten how people walked and talked when they are experiencing good times; forward-looking, uplifting, and thinking big. I needed to be reminded of that.
Australia is really big. The central part of Brisbane has good public transport, not just on the ground by also on the river, but it's also easy to walk around. Something I can't experience in Nelson was taking 15 and 20 minutes to walk from one end to the other of one building, or to hop over to the next building. That in the torrential, tropical rain, or the humid tropical blaze.
When I think of visiting Australia to see art, I automatically think of Melbourne and the state of Victoria, but again, there is a big world out there, even within Australia, and it was good to be reminded of it. I'd like to keep an eye on what exhibitions GOMA hosts, and if possible, go back to Brisbane with Ben so he can experience that city. Though expensive, it's so near and we don't need to be away for weeks and months for a new experience.
You do realize, though, I'll be weaving and posting a lot about "merchandises" because, did I mention, Australia was expensive?
Some facts:
Nelson to Wellington is a 25-minute flight; Wellington to Brisbane was around 4 hours; Brisbane Airport to the center of Brisbane by train was about half an hour. The longest wait was A) having bags checked and getting out of Brisbane Airport, (somewhere between 60-90 minutes,) and waiting for the train at Brisbane Airport, (the train ran either every 30 minutes, or I think every hour when I arrived.) Wellington Airport charges NZ$25 to exit, but Brisbane Departure Tax is included in your flight, and people working in the travel industry don't seem to know what Departure Tax is; at least not the ones I asked.
You can use NZ credit cards on EFTPOS machines in any old shop in Brisbane, with your regular pin number; in fact if you have the new chip style credit card, transactions were much faster on the Australian system.
I expected to see many of the same brands on Australian supermarket shelves, because we import so much of their stuff, but that wasn't the case. I also had a hard time finding the variety of yogurt we have in New Zealand.
Julia and Kev did all that just to entertain me on that Monday, I know.
In 1988 when I first visited Australia, I was amazed how tall everyone was, even compared to Minnesota, especially the women. I wasn't mistaken; I saw so many extremely tall Aussies, well over 6 feet. There was one surreal moment in one of the smaller rooms exhibiting Matisse's earlier drawings: it was around 4.30, golden time, only people who haven't got the heart to leave hang around, taking longer in front of each drawing. There were three of us in the room, me and two tall men. One was tall, probably around 6"4', and I had this familiar sensation of belt buckle walking past me face. But I kid you not, a few moments later, a pair (??) of buttocks walked past my face; this man was older but with good posture, and he wasn't all out of proportion like some tall folks are, but he was... tall, and even the other tall man stared at him.
This afternoon I was looking through photos I took while there, and discovered I didn't take many, and they are all of appalling qualities, partially due to the weather during my stay, which was either tropical torrential rain, (some places "near" Brisbane started flooding before I left,) or humid tropical blaze. It was, though, was an eye-opening trip for me, so I'll post a few photos. (All the galleries except Matisse allowed photography, but I didn't take a lot and the few I did came out, oh, so badly.)
Brisbane was big, bright, but not as brash as I had expected. The scholarship behind not just the Matisse exhibition but many others at both GOMA and QAG were high; they installed/hung artworks beautifully; printed material, lectures, and films associated with the exhibitions, many free, were excellent, and the staff, paid and volunteers, were exceptionally well-informed.
The galleries were beautiful, with plenty of indoor and outdoor sitting areas to rest and reflect on the artworks; bookshops were well-stocked with interesting and/or rare books in addition to their own publications; even the cafe food was great. I was mesmerized by the combined largeness and excellence of the galleries and shows, and felt strong multiple jolts telling me Nelson is a small place and there is so much out there in the big wide world.
Australia, and particularly Queensland at the center of Australian mining industry, has not been touched by the recent recession. Everything was expensive, including the exhibition catalogue (A$50, and no, I didn't get it, because it was so heavy!), accommodation, and food. Because I stayed in an apartment, I cooked most of my meals, having only two lunches at the galleries, but still I ran out of cash I took with me quickly and the trip cost far more than I had estimated. Although entry to most galleries were free; I think I only paid for the Matisse exhibition, which was A$20.
On the other hand, having lived in financial dire straits, both personal and worldwide, for quite a few years, I had forgotten how people walked and talked when they are experiencing good times; forward-looking, uplifting, and thinking big. I needed to be reminded of that.
Australia is really big. The central part of Brisbane has good public transport, not just on the ground by also on the river, but it's also easy to walk around. Something I can't experience in Nelson was taking 15 and 20 minutes to walk from one end to the other of one building, or to hop over to the next building. That in the torrential, tropical rain, or the humid tropical blaze.
When I think of visiting Australia to see art, I automatically think of Melbourne and the state of Victoria, but again, there is a big world out there, even within Australia, and it was good to be reminded of it. I'd like to keep an eye on what exhibitions GOMA hosts, and if possible, go back to Brisbane with Ben so he can experience that city. Though expensive, it's so near and we don't need to be away for weeks and months for a new experience.
You do realize, though, I'll be weaving and posting a lot about "merchandises" because, did I mention, Australia was expensive?
Some facts:
Nelson to Wellington is a 25-minute flight; Wellington to Brisbane was around 4 hours; Brisbane Airport to the center of Brisbane by train was about half an hour. The longest wait was A) having bags checked and getting out of Brisbane Airport, (somewhere between 60-90 minutes,) and waiting for the train at Brisbane Airport, (the train ran either every 30 minutes, or I think every hour when I arrived.) Wellington Airport charges NZ$25 to exit, but Brisbane Departure Tax is included in your flight, and people working in the travel industry don't seem to know what Departure Tax is; at least not the ones I asked.
You can use NZ credit cards on EFTPOS machines in any old shop in Brisbane, with your regular pin number; in fact if you have the new chip style credit card, transactions were much faster on the Australian system.
I expected to see many of the same brands on Australian supermarket shelves, because we import so much of their stuff, but that wasn't the case. I also had a hard time finding the variety of yogurt we have in New Zealand.
Julia and Kev did all that just to entertain me on that Monday, I know.
In 1988 when I first visited Australia, I was amazed how tall everyone was, even compared to Minnesota, especially the women. I wasn't mistaken; I saw so many extremely tall Aussies, well over 6 feet. There was one surreal moment in one of the smaller rooms exhibiting Matisse's earlier drawings: it was around 4.30, golden time, only people who haven't got the heart to leave hang around, taking longer in front of each drawing. There were three of us in the room, me and two tall men. One was tall, probably around 6"4', and I had this familiar sensation of belt buckle walking past me face. But I kid you not, a few moments later, a pair (??) of buttocks walked past my face; this man was older but with good posture, and he wasn't all out of proportion like some tall folks are, but he was... tall, and even the other tall man stared at him.
2012/03/23
WordPress Bloggers
WP recently changed the way we are (not) allowed to log on and leave comments. I don't want to allow WP to access my Facebook information so I can't seem to leave comments on WP blogs. I don't have a Twitter account. Does anyone know how else to comment?
And this includes not being able to say CONGRATS and wishing a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Judy.
And this includes not being able to say CONGRATS and wishing a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Judy.
2012/03/22
Thursday Morning
And we finally have some rain, yay! I wove for an hour on Wednesday and Thursday, and the arms are a little weird, (no pain, just yellow/orange lights, I guess,) and I'm wondering if I should give it a rest today or keep going. I could bring out all the stiffer wool into the living room and start thinking about big pieces for the exhibition in October.
This clip is making me think about the Internet and work, my work, and making money via the Internet in particular.
I use the Internet primarily for research, for connecting, (including participating and hosting projects,) and for my own amusement/enjoyment. I can't say I've ever observed a direct connection to what I make,(other than learning how to use a carder and how to hemstitch on the loom,) and I've never sold anything to people I met on the Internet.
Once in the mid-90's and again in the early 00's, when I was thinking of getting up a website, I was forewarned about many weavers not to expect to sell much via the Internet, as clients need to be able to feel textiles before they buy.
I've had two inquiries about specific pieces, and two if I have an online shop, but no sale, though photos have helped one repeat customer and Mom decide what they wanted. Though, I guess, looking back, this repeat customer, at the very beginning, studied my website/blog before ordering, so she may count as one; I've just received the fifth order from her. My pieces are relatively expensive and I consider most of them one-offs, (I don't repeat designs too often and never colors,) and NZ dollar tends to be make it more expensive for you. This is why I've never been in a rush to setup Esty, (I cringe at the thought of having to think about prices,) though I realize this is one of my Chicken/Egg dilemmas. I'm not blaming the Internet; I'm not complaining because there is a lot more I could do, but exploring.
We're not like... say, film makers, performance artists, not even illustrators, who seem to be creating new ways of making their art every day. And I don't teach, and I don't write books. What are things weavers can do on the Internet? How can Internet help me generate sales? And what are ways I could integrate the Internet to my work, besides gazing at photos?
* * * * *
Kathryn sent me a very long yard of handspun silk and a lovely handmade paper prayer flag/bunting. She used handmade stamps. It's going into the stash room, most definitely. Thank you, Kathryn.
This clip is making me think about the Internet and work, my work, and making money via the Internet in particular.
I use the Internet primarily for research, for connecting, (including participating and hosting projects,) and for my own amusement/enjoyment. I can't say I've ever observed a direct connection to what I make,(other than learning how to use a carder and how to hemstitch on the loom,) and I've never sold anything to people I met on the Internet.
Once in the mid-90's and again in the early 00's, when I was thinking of getting up a website, I was forewarned about many weavers not to expect to sell much via the Internet, as clients need to be able to feel textiles before they buy.
I've had two inquiries about specific pieces, and two if I have an online shop, but no sale, though photos have helped one repeat customer and Mom decide what they wanted. Though, I guess, looking back, this repeat customer, at the very beginning, studied my website/blog before ordering, so she may count as one; I've just received the fifth order from her. My pieces are relatively expensive and I consider most of them one-offs, (I don't repeat designs too often and never colors,) and NZ dollar tends to be make it more expensive for you. This is why I've never been in a rush to setup Esty, (I cringe at the thought of having to think about prices,) though I realize this is one of my Chicken/Egg dilemmas. I'm not blaming the Internet; I'm not complaining because there is a lot more I could do, but exploring.
We're not like... say, film makers, performance artists, not even illustrators, who seem to be creating new ways of making their art every day. And I don't teach, and I don't write books. What are things weavers can do on the Internet? How can Internet help me generate sales? And what are ways I could integrate the Internet to my work, besides gazing at photos?
* * * * *
Kathryn sent me a very long yard of handspun silk and a lovely handmade paper prayer flag/bunting. She used handmade stamps. It's going into the stash room, most definitely. Thank you, Kathryn.
2012/03/21
Ho Hum...
The piece after the exhibition is becoming a drag; now that I don't have a deadline, it's moving slowly, and there are colors adjacent to each other that I don't like the combination of. (Is that even a coherent sentence?) And I'm afraid there is still a bit of warp left after this piece, for a big sample piece, or perhaps a couple of napkins/serviettes or some such. And I so want to move on, but the arms, yeah.... not exactly worry-free at the moment...
By the way, there is an interesting discussion on what "narrative" means on Connie Rose's blog. I have given permission for me to cringe at the hint of "concepts" but "narrative", I find interesting; not the too literal stuff, I don't care much of words-on-cloth unless they work really well, but I wonder whose story a piece is supposed to narrate, the maker or the viewer. Any thoughts?
By the way, there is an interesting discussion on what "narrative" means on Connie Rose's blog. I have given permission for me to cringe at the hint of "concepts" but "narrative", I find interesting; not the too literal stuff, I don't care much of words-on-cloth unless they work really well, but I wonder whose story a piece is supposed to narrate, the maker or the viewer. Any thoughts?
2012/03/19
Changing Threads IV
Today I helped hang Changing Threads IV; this was the third time I helped and though the installation isn't finished, (one big piece is stuck in transit,) it's nearly there.
I am no authority on conceptual or contemporary, (more later,) but I think this year is even better than last, which was, IMHO, light years away from the first two. It's very "conceptual" and even today pieces were being deselected for being only pretty pictures, for example. Ronnie Martin's adherence to the brief is helping the exhibition grow in leaps and bounds; she feels ruthless deselecting, but that gives Changing Threads its integrity, which is becoming more evident each year. That there are a few repeat entrants tells me there is a core group of makers in New Zealand who have vision similar to Ronnie's. I was happy many of the work that made the cut are also technically well-executed, which was, from memory, not always the case in the first two years.
Having waffled, (no, I wrote all of the above in earnest,) I must tell you how glad I am that I recently excused myself from the whole conceptual arena, because I so don't get the criteria for selection/deselection. I understand Ronnie's words when she explains things to me, but it's like being explained the chemistry of composting. When you're talking to me, you have to tell me to put green and brown stuff alternatively, air out occasionally, and keep it moist; this I understand. But you can't do this with conceptual art.
An artist who came to install her own work, a gigantic piece on child abuse, asked me if I had anything in the exhibition and this year I felt comfortable saying, "No, I only make pretty things, nothing to do with concepts," and she replied right away, "There is nothing wrong with pretty!" Child abuse is a big problem in New Zealand, and you can count on works on the subject finding their way to "women's" exhibitions, ergo often in textile exhibitions. (We have men putting things in Changing Threads, to be sure.) I have seen shocking, upsetting, and unattractive work, or work too subtle I didn't know they were about child abuse. This artist's work, however, was subtle and beautiful but still made the point, and if I can get permission from her/Changing Threads/the gallery, I'd like to post some photos here; I had to rethink almost-automatically not liking artworks on the subject.
OK, here's an interesting debate we might have engaged in had we had time; if you take a piece created in an old technique, say a small flawless piece of patchwork, presented it in a contemporary way, say in a frame but lifted so the piece sits halfway between the glass and the matt at the back, thus casting interesting shadows inside the frame, would you include it? Do you see a concept here; is it even contemporary?
Changing Threads 2012 opens at 5.30 on Friday, March 23 and goes on until April 21.
I am no authority on conceptual or contemporary, (more later,) but I think this year is even better than last, which was, IMHO, light years away from the first two. It's very "conceptual" and even today pieces were being deselected for being only pretty pictures, for example. Ronnie Martin's adherence to the brief is helping the exhibition grow in leaps and bounds; she feels ruthless deselecting, but that gives Changing Threads its integrity, which is becoming more evident each year. That there are a few repeat entrants tells me there is a core group of makers in New Zealand who have vision similar to Ronnie's. I was happy many of the work that made the cut are also technically well-executed, which was, from memory, not always the case in the first two years.
Having waffled, (no, I wrote all of the above in earnest,) I must tell you how glad I am that I recently excused myself from the whole conceptual arena, because I so don't get the criteria for selection/deselection. I understand Ronnie's words when she explains things to me, but it's like being explained the chemistry of composting. When you're talking to me, you have to tell me to put green and brown stuff alternatively, air out occasionally, and keep it moist; this I understand. But you can't do this with conceptual art.
An artist who came to install her own work, a gigantic piece on child abuse, asked me if I had anything in the exhibition and this year I felt comfortable saying, "No, I only make pretty things, nothing to do with concepts," and she replied right away, "There is nothing wrong with pretty!" Child abuse is a big problem in New Zealand, and you can count on works on the subject finding their way to "women's" exhibitions, ergo often in textile exhibitions. (We have men putting things in Changing Threads, to be sure.) I have seen shocking, upsetting, and unattractive work, or work too subtle I didn't know they were about child abuse. This artist's work, however, was subtle and beautiful but still made the point, and if I can get permission from her/Changing Threads/the gallery, I'd like to post some photos here; I had to rethink almost-automatically not liking artworks on the subject.
OK, here's an interesting debate we might have engaged in had we had time; if you take a piece created in an old technique, say a small flawless piece of patchwork, presented it in a contemporary way, say in a frame but lifted so the piece sits halfway between the glass and the matt at the back, thus casting interesting shadows inside the frame, would you include it? Do you see a concept here; is it even contemporary?
Changing Threads 2012 opens at 5.30 on Friday, March 23 and goes on until April 21.
Announcing April Spools Day
On April 1, let's post pictures of bobbins and pirns, or whatever else we improvised to behaves like them. No restrictions; just photos, or in the company of a dissertation, ode or rambling.
Usual process; we all post on April 1, and if you like, send me a link to your post. OR send me jpg files and I'll post them here, or my Flicker, depending on the number.
Are you in?
Usual process; we all post on April 1, and if you like, send me a link to your post. OR send me jpg files and I'll post them here, or my Flicker, depending on the number.
Are you in?
2012/03/18
Selling my Soul, Vulnerability and Shame, Visceral Adipose Tissue, Oh My
Goodness, it feels like a long time, but it really hasn't been.
It's Sunday night here, and I am trying to remember what I did these last few days. (Wait until you get to be my age, and you might be doing this also!)
I had pins and needles in my left elbow from Wednesday night to yesterday so I haven't woven, but this is the sampling I did on Wednesday. When I was finishing the National Exhibition piece, I made up my mind the last piece from this warp was going to have one weft, a rather unattractive yellowy olivy green which when used in this warp looks splendidly shiny, nuanced and dignified. For the draft, I was going to one relatively simple draft of about 60 picks long, and modify it just a little and weave, and modify just a little more and weave, so if you looked at the piece from one end, your eyes might slowly travel, noticing the tiny differences, and end up at the other end.
I decided against it for this warp, because I couldn't predict the floats. I was lucky, the Nat Exb piece ended up having only four ends that had really bad floats. I didn't think it was a good move to weave, check both sides, fix floats, etc. So what I did was to make one simple draft 60 picks long, and again advanced it four shafts at a time, and then changed face, and I sampled the eight versions; five of these looked good, so I'm using these.
Then I thought I might as well use a few wefts, and sampled the lovely pale greens and yellows and was ready to go. Then, I had another idea, didn't I? As a merchandise, I thought purples, pinks, reds and perhaps the stronger greens/teals/gold would work better. I don't even know if this is going to be a merchandise; I had thought of gifting it to a mate whose house was badly flooded and whose mother was mugged! If I'm going to give it to him, which would he prefer?
For now, I'm going with the "jewel" colors, against gut feeling. Selling my soul? I don't know, but I still have to pay for Brisbane, too.
* * * * *
Friday after drawing, I didn't come home right away. If I had, I would have wanted to weave, and my elbow was telling me it was a bad idea. So I saw "We Need to Talk about Kevin" (SO not my kind of a film, though I usually like Tilda Swinton), and "The Iron Lady", (love Meryl Streep, but the film was... OK.) After we came home, we watched "Anonymous" and finally, a film I liked. I think it was in my university days I read something about Sir Francis Bacon possibly having written Shakespeare's plays, but not Edward, Earl of Oxford. (Did you know he went to Cambridge, by the way?) It was a pretty film, and I was impressed how dignified Rhys Ifans looked. (He was the naked roommate in "Notting Hill".)
Saturday morning I read some more about "Anonymous"; this is a movie, based on collection of facts but heavily edited/polished/moved around. But fun and pretty. I just didn't know there was a whole industry around discrediting the Bard.
I also came across one Dr Brene Brown's TED clips about vulnerability and shame, and bought the audio version of her first book. From what she's saying in the TED clips, I think my problems have a lot to do with what she's studying, and while I don't have a problem discussing shame like she says we do, I don't understand the distinctions among concepts like guilt, shame, humiliation, so it'll be good to listen to her book. Several times. I also thought perhaps I use my blog as a self-defense mechanism, as in attacking before getting attached, but that's for later.
Saturday afternoon we drove around Nelson region looking for and speaking with suppliers of cheese-making material and equipment, came home a bit tired, but spent the evening making Halloumi and Whey Ricotta. Bliss! Anything homemade taste better than store-bought, even if I botch up a job, but homemade Halloumi is a totally different spices from a store-bought one, and Whey Ricotta, well, this is one of my favs but it takes so much effort to get Halloumi out of the way so I have enough whey to make the Ricotta. But that 1/2 to 2/3 cup was well-worth the effort. Because the price of NZ cheese in NZ has skyrocketed in the last... four (??) years, we haven't bought any nice cheeses in a while. This is a perfect cure, as we can make them inexpensively, and it involves four pairs of hand for many tasks. Bliss!
Came Sunday morning and I swear I was going to garden, but I ended up reading more about Shakespeare authorship as well as watching Dr Brown's clips some more. Though I did trim Ben's beard.
I promised Ali I'd post pictures of Brisbane as soon as I finished weaving the Exhibition piece so I'd better start looking at those. Tomorrow, though, I go help hang Changing Threads IV. This Friday, both the National Exhibition and Changing Threads open. No, I don't have divided loyalties; I don't like openings, so I'll probably be in the library or the cinema.
* * * * *
I could not end this post without telling you what else I read this morning. I knew abdominal fat is very bad, potentially leading to high blood pressure, heart problems, diabetes, and I even read, dementia/Alzheimer's. In yet another old Listener mag, I read that A) it has a name, Visceral Adipose Tissue, or VAT, and B) "(It) is more than just a lump of fat, but is actually biologically active and behaves much like an organ."
Golly, if the thread of dementia was not enough to keep me exercising, the picture of me with an extra organ in my middle, like a bad SciFi minor character, sure is. I'll get on to it starting tomorrow.
It's Sunday night here, and I am trying to remember what I did these last few days. (Wait until you get to be my age, and you might be doing this also!)
I decided against it for this warp, because I couldn't predict the floats. I was lucky, the Nat Exb piece ended up having only four ends that had really bad floats. I didn't think it was a good move to weave, check both sides, fix floats, etc. So what I did was to make one simple draft 60 picks long, and again advanced it four shafts at a time, and then changed face, and I sampled the eight versions; five of these looked good, so I'm using these.
Then I thought I might as well use a few wefts, and sampled the lovely pale greens and yellows and was ready to go. Then, I had another idea, didn't I? As a merchandise, I thought purples, pinks, reds and perhaps the stronger greens/teals/gold would work better. I don't even know if this is going to be a merchandise; I had thought of gifting it to a mate whose house was badly flooded and whose mother was mugged! If I'm going to give it to him, which would he prefer?
For now, I'm going with the "jewel" colors, against gut feeling. Selling my soul? I don't know, but I still have to pay for Brisbane, too.
* * * * *
Friday after drawing, I didn't come home right away. If I had, I would have wanted to weave, and my elbow was telling me it was a bad idea. So I saw "We Need to Talk about Kevin" (SO not my kind of a film, though I usually like Tilda Swinton), and "The Iron Lady", (love Meryl Streep, but the film was... OK.) After we came home, we watched "Anonymous" and finally, a film I liked. I think it was in my university days I read something about Sir Francis Bacon possibly having written Shakespeare's plays, but not Edward, Earl of Oxford. (Did you know he went to Cambridge, by the way?) It was a pretty film, and I was impressed how dignified Rhys Ifans looked. (He was the naked roommate in "Notting Hill".)
Saturday morning I read some more about "Anonymous"; this is a movie, based on collection of facts but heavily edited/polished/moved around. But fun and pretty. I just didn't know there was a whole industry around discrediting the Bard.
I also came across one Dr Brene Brown's TED clips about vulnerability and shame, and bought the audio version of her first book. From what she's saying in the TED clips, I think my problems have a lot to do with what she's studying, and while I don't have a problem discussing shame like she says we do, I don't understand the distinctions among concepts like guilt, shame, humiliation, so it'll be good to listen to her book. Several times. I also thought perhaps I use my blog as a self-defense mechanism, as in attacking before getting attached, but that's for later.
Saturday afternoon we drove around Nelson region looking for and speaking with suppliers of cheese-making material and equipment, came home a bit tired, but spent the evening making Halloumi and Whey Ricotta. Bliss! Anything homemade taste better than store-bought, even if I botch up a job, but homemade Halloumi is a totally different spices from a store-bought one, and Whey Ricotta, well, this is one of my favs but it takes so much effort to get Halloumi out of the way so I have enough whey to make the Ricotta. But that 1/2 to 2/3 cup was well-worth the effort. Because the price of NZ cheese in NZ has skyrocketed in the last... four (??) years, we haven't bought any nice cheeses in a while. This is a perfect cure, as we can make them inexpensively, and it involves four pairs of hand for many tasks. Bliss!
Came Sunday morning and I swear I was going to garden, but I ended up reading more about Shakespeare authorship as well as watching Dr Brown's clips some more. Though I did trim Ben's beard.
I promised Ali I'd post pictures of Brisbane as soon as I finished weaving the Exhibition piece so I'd better start looking at those. Tomorrow, though, I go help hang Changing Threads IV. This Friday, both the National Exhibition and Changing Threads open. No, I don't have divided loyalties; I don't like openings, so I'll probably be in the library or the cinema.
* * * * *
I could not end this post without telling you what else I read this morning. I knew abdominal fat is very bad, potentially leading to high blood pressure, heart problems, diabetes, and I even read, dementia/Alzheimer's. In yet another old Listener mag, I read that A) it has a name, Visceral Adipose Tissue, or VAT, and B) "(It) is more than just a lump of fat, but is actually biologically active and behaves much like an organ."
Golly, if the thread of dementia was not enough to keep me exercising, the picture of me with an extra organ in my middle, like a bad SciFi minor character, sure is. I'll get on to it starting tomorrow.
2012/03/15
A Different Kinda Day
Yesterday I spent half the time feeling like I was run over by a freight train, the long American variety, and the other half energized and ready to work on a few projects. Interpersonal difficulties are not new to me, and this won't be the last; I find it very difficult to let things go and move on. I replay the scenario over and over and over in my head, look at the scenario my point of view and everybody else's, and even say under my breath things I would have wanted to say.
I realized, while talking to Pat on Tuesday, that I grew up in places where being easy-going and thick-skinned were separated by a very thin, icy line. Fussing over people and paying attention to details were virtues, especially for women and the young, and I was most definitely trained to anticipate everybody's needs and act on them before a request is voiced. There were parts of my office work life that benefited from fine-tuning this anticipation/guesswork, but I didn't think I did this in my personal life because I'm too lazy. There is another part of me that makes no assumption especially pertaining to work, which took some years of training myself, because I want to leave space for people's opinions/advices in case there are good ones.
Monday's meeting took me back to my childhood, where often I apologized to my parents and teachers because I was told I'd been bad, without, sometimes, knowing what I had done. On the other hand, I'd been feeling really "normal" for the last three months, and I don't want to slip back, so I've decided to don the thick skin, if it is that in this case, and opt to move on. Even I'm tired of thinking about Monday.
This morning I spent about 90 minutes watching one wax eye try to eat an unripe fig. This fig tree is right in front of our office window. This wax eye (yellow arrow) appeared slightly smaller than the others, and had terrible coordination; it kept slipping off the edge of the fruit and sliding off the leaf below, and the branch above the fruit was a tad too far for comfort.
When other wax eyes came near the chosen fig, this little one would stare them down, sometimes puffing his whole body, sometimes spreading his wing, to chase them away. It was comical because all other wax eyes were better coordinated and didn't have problems staying around the fruit, but the little one must have sent really bad vibes because they would eventually stop eating and look up and on at least half a dozen occasions, I witnessed a silent, motionless staring contests that lasted up to a couple of minutes, and invariably, they all flew away.
And of course I saw myself in the little, mean one; the least experienced and newest comer to textile having lots of opinions and huffing and puffing to try to protect its turf. Funny, isn't it? The little wax eye, though, didn't even challenge the common sparrows; it just sat at on the same brunch, probably mumbling mean thought and wishing the big guys away. Even later, the sparrows lot out to the blackbirds.
What I didn't understand was the attraction of this particular fruit; there are tons more larger or riper ones on the tree; in fact, this was probably one of the smallest!
Don't worry about my head; yesterday I did some more sampling on the bright warp and finally decided what the second piece on that warp is going to be, and started work a little more concretely on two ideas for the exhibition.
* * * * *
Thank you so much, Doni; I didn't realize an Italian meter is so much longer than a New Zealand meter. The Merino/cashmere/silk is so soft and lovely I definitely want to use the "leftover" in something for myself.
I realized, while talking to Pat on Tuesday, that I grew up in places where being easy-going and thick-skinned were separated by a very thin, icy line. Fussing over people and paying attention to details were virtues, especially for women and the young, and I was most definitely trained to anticipate everybody's needs and act on them before a request is voiced. There were parts of my office work life that benefited from fine-tuning this anticipation/guesswork, but I didn't think I did this in my personal life because I'm too lazy. There is another part of me that makes no assumption especially pertaining to work, which took some years of training myself, because I want to leave space for people's opinions/advices in case there are good ones.
Monday's meeting took me back to my childhood, where often I apologized to my parents and teachers because I was told I'd been bad, without, sometimes, knowing what I had done. On the other hand, I'd been feeling really "normal" for the last three months, and I don't want to slip back, so I've decided to don the thick skin, if it is that in this case, and opt to move on. Even I'm tired of thinking about Monday.
When other wax eyes came near the chosen fig, this little one would stare them down, sometimes puffing his whole body, sometimes spreading his wing, to chase them away. It was comical because all other wax eyes were better coordinated and didn't have problems staying around the fruit, but the little one must have sent really bad vibes because they would eventually stop eating and look up and on at least half a dozen occasions, I witnessed a silent, motionless staring contests that lasted up to a couple of minutes, and invariably, they all flew away.
And of course I saw myself in the little, mean one; the least experienced and newest comer to textile having lots of opinions and huffing and puffing to try to protect its turf. Funny, isn't it? The little wax eye, though, didn't even challenge the common sparrows; it just sat at on the same brunch, probably mumbling mean thought and wishing the big guys away. Even later, the sparrows lot out to the blackbirds.
What I didn't understand was the attraction of this particular fruit; there are tons more larger or riper ones on the tree; in fact, this was probably one of the smallest!
Don't worry about my head; yesterday I did some more sampling on the bright warp and finally decided what the second piece on that warp is going to be, and started work a little more concretely on two ideas for the exhibition.
* * * * *
2012/03/12
"Prayers"
I like the hand/drape, but as a piece it feels heavy. There were some draft mishaps because I left a lot to chance; there were a few unintended skips I left in the piece as well. After it dried completely, the piece took on a silk-like sheen that is characteristic of the 2/20 yearns I use. Technically, I give this about 35/100, but overall, around 85/100.
I took a few photos but most came out blurred, and the colors are a little strange compared to the real piece.
I've felt ho-hum after finishing the piece and a void as well. I can talk about the concepts behind this piece until the cows comes home and write blurbs until your eyes water, but it doesn't change anything, that a) people I know are still sick or dead, and the invisible cloud is still contaminating my country, and b) I think feel the finished piece has anything to do with the concept of prayers. I had thought a 4-blocks-in-4-shafts idea was a good one way way back when I first made this draft. In this respect, I think it's been a great learning experience that my making has nothing to do with concepts, ideas or challenges; I am much better off aiming to make pretty things that please me.
Next please.
I think I'm going to use much fewer colors in the weft, and try some more of the basic-then-slightly-modified-then-slightly-more-modified-draft approach.
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