Growing Out of Pikerhood

I am. I even ironed my clothes before packing, something I never do, but if we are going to discuss exquisite weaving or magical/mysterious books, I thought I'd do it not in the style I work at home.

I did well in weight, (the suitcase, not myself,) but not so in bulk. Am I glad our discipline is textiles; our darlings can be squished or rolled up and stuck in shoes and other small spaces to keep other things in good shape. Keeping paper straight or carrying various art supply isn't easy, even with my pared down lot; supplies list in mixed media is positively eye-watering, too. (My sister's regret with ceramics is the bulk and weight, even just storing them  at her place.)

I've three days left to finish making a netbook sleeve, get Aussie $, go see the current exhibition at the Refinery, and a combination of weaving, weeding, and another chapter for Weavers and Designers. The group has been quiet, but even if I'm the last one standing, I do enjoy the work so I'm going to stay with it. I'm not going to be a "piker" which in Australia, I learned this week, means someone who either does not join in with others, or gives up an activity before it is finished. I'm a specialist in starting with a bang and then... um.... yeah...

I didn't get anything done yesterday because, shock horror, I read! And I read for pleasure for the first time in a long while. Ben says I don't read for pleasure when I'm faced with a difficult project, and not only exhibition but prepping for the mixed media workshops were hard. But I went looking for the magic I mentioned yesterday and picked up Nick Bantock's "The Forgetting Room" and once started, I had to finish it. I found myself staring at black letters dancing on white pages from time to time.

His books don't have a lot of text, but I have to keep going back to the artworks, so it took a while but the experience was, oh, so, enjoyable.

The yellow orchids are almost over so I took some photos before they are all gone.

 Generations

 "Youth" is relative

Look at my insides; I've plenty of good bits left

Bread with Banana in It

I was productive before 10.30AM yesterday, but slowed down gradually, culminating in a three-hour Skype session with Mom, (she's currently working on a tiny tapestry I asked for a while back,) and did not do a whole heck of a lot else, except bake two loaves of bread and scrubbed some pots and pans. Darn.

I've already paid for most of my Austrian trip but still need some Oz cash. Watching exchange rates go up and down is a hobby I inherited from Dad; he started when I went to the US during high school. All this year we've been hearing the NZ$ is going to be strong against the Aussie $, culminating in an all time high around August. Well, have a look.

Alright, so it's just August. Mom always said we are no good at predictions so we might as well stop keeping tabs and relax. But it's worth it; I can hear Dad's exaggeratedly disappointments by the tiniest drops or elation by the tiniest climb, even when nobody is going anywhere and we aren't saving or loosing.

I'm waiting until next week for my cash. 

* * * * *

There's little mystery in my life. By which I mean everything was explained by the most pragmatic or logical terms from an early age, so there was never room for Santa, Tooth Fairy, or ghosts. Or deity. The first I felt my simplistic, one-dimensional life was perhaps lacking in flavor was in Edinburgh and later at Culloden during our honeymoon; I felt a few ghosts were required to complete the landscape. Of course autumnal Scotland appeared much more "romantic" than our crowded noisy life in Yokohama; there was no room for the imperceptible. It took me years to get my head around such concepts as Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings, but now I can't live without Discworld audiobooks.

What's this all about? Well, while thinking about, visualizing, and harvesting material for the mixed media workshops, first I wanted to stay as far, far away as possible from the brand/product-lead aesthetics of that section of mixed media, and to that end I've included hand-painted paper and thrums as collage material. I've also prepared small pieces of watercolor paper on which I will draw quick gesture drawings at airports and train stations in Australia.

I realize "layers upon layers" is still in in that world, and I don't want to make boring books I could have made in my kitchen, but at the same time I wanted to make something I like, with my preference for relative flatness and limitations on hues.

I tried to assign visual themes for each of the four books I'll be making: Dad, family home of almost 44 years, maybe weaving/textiles, drawing, or travels if finance wasn't an issue, but material concentrating on themes looked too contrived and I foresaw prescribed frame of mind amidst a fabulous environment. 

Wouldn't you know a thought popped up while listening to Discworld: can I infuse magical powers so that each of my books would transport me and only me to a different time or place when I open it?

* * * * * 

My latest bread with Banana in It; my breads have improved, but still not as dry/soft/airy as I like. I need to stop modifying the one no-knead gluten-free recipes.

Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven...

I leave for Australia next Wednesday.

I culled my collage material. I still think I have too much, but I don't want to edit so much as to restrict my choices, so I may go though them once more, or not, but I'm good on all other supplies. Plus, I found a fabulous art supply shop in Brisbane, within Australian Big City walking distance from my accommodation, so perhaps fewer hours at the galleries and foregoing the heavenly bookshop I found not one block down from my accommodation last trip at 5.30 the night before I left may be in order. The area near the art supply shop seems to be a Bohemian/artsy part of Brisbane, so I'm sure there are other interesting places, meaning I need be mindful of time management.

I wished I had another day there, but I always forget it takes seven hours' travel time from Nelson to Brisbane including two hours in Christchurch. Not that I'm complaining; it is still much closer than most other cities in the world.

What's left is the general packing, but I do these fine at the last minute. I even remembered to put some of my weaving and samples on the pile for brainstorming with Kaz and Sampling. 

I made some postcards yesterday using cards I prepared for the drawing exhibition but didn't use because I went the finger-painting way.

Weeding, (spring has come much too early this year, daffodils already flowering in places, and I still have two bags of garlic to put in, among my issues,) and weaving, (not even towels as gifts,) are on my mind, but today, I may make a laptop sleeve using one of my very old warp end cloths. 

Dichotomy/Duplicity

Our wee exhibition is down and the next one is going up as we speak. My drawings are safely under my bed again, except two: I sold a piece that wasn't going into the exhibition until I needed something different-looking for the poster, (first pic, pen drawing on white paper below the big B/W piece,) and the navy blue monoprint that went on the wall because there was space at the very end, (first pic, bottom.) Sam sold not only the curvy ink on gray paper piece at the top of the same pic, but also the beautiful washy piece to the right of it. (Dang, I have great taste: I wanted one of these!) Annabelle sold the big white-and-blue oil painting on her individual wall. And the bonus was, Donna at the gallery suggested we leave some of our work for the shop part of the gallery, so all my framed pieces and some of Sam and Annabelle's paintings were left behind. Thank you again, our cheering section, and Roger, Vicky, and Donna, and husbands.

We've received varied and interesting comments on the way we hung our work, positive and negative. Unfortunately we three haven't had time to debrief, but hope to in a week, after Annabelle the musician survives a couple of concerts/productions, before my Oz trip.

* * * * *

The title of this post refers to my personality.

I love meeting people, seeing new techniques and art works, and talking about them. That's possibly the best part of being a maker. But I have a low threshold of the amount of information I can take in at once, (partially because I talk too much,) and I need longer than others to really understand, and then forever after that to learn from the discourse. And I have to do this by myself, in silence, not just externally but internally, mulling over each word, image, expression. This is why I love my hermit life and treasure my alone time. And I do work completely alone.

And both sides are the real me.

Something like the swapsies-making bring out the best and the worst in me: I want to give everybody something equally well-made and personal, (as much as I can make them personal under these circumstances,) and to that end I don't mind spending a whole day. If it leads to starting conversations and making friends who were hitherto unknown to me, or discovering something new about an old friend, it's well worth it. (Equally I don't like junk, and I'm discerning about trinkets, and I loathe the idea of anyone spending money on what my friend Rosie calls instant landfill just to take part in the swap, let alone giving one of them to me.)

But I have been picturing myself at the dark corner of the room minding my own business making my own books, thinking about Dad and perhaps shedding a tear or two, or balling my eyes out. In other words, my usual MO in drawing classes. The gregarious exchange of trinkets was so contrary to that vision and why I am going to the workshops, and that completely threw me. I lost a couple of night's sleep, too. But I'll get over it.

In February I hoped to meet up with as many people as possible in Oz. I'm seeing all but one, and I know I will cherish each and every one of them and be totally stimulated as all of them are makers. But I didn't include enough alone time in between, and I'm going to be exhausted if I don't pace myself.  It's the same old performance anxiety. But I'll get over it.

* * * * *

After Trinket Thursday came Foto Friday when I finally sorted out the rest of the material. I have too much at the moment, but even if I don't cull, at least I have everything I need; if I take the time to cull, and I still have time, (but Ben thinks it's too late to post,) all the better. 

So I will either weave all next week, or weed, or do a bit of both.

* * * * *

You know my woven paintings, and how I said I would never ever not-on-my-life do them again? I keep thinking of a bigger version, possibly in combination with my I-hate-getting-old theme. Just saying.

* * * * *

Three pics from our Arizona days, academic year 1963-64. Listen carefully and you'll hear my mom scream and laugh when she sees these! Ben scanned Dad's slides.

Probably Saguaro National Park

 

A young and carefree couple with one kid; I wonder if I took this.

Mom used to sew a lot and I had either a top and shorts or a dress from the same fabric as her dress.

Oh, the Rambler. We were a two-car family for a year. 

Funny, in my mind, this is a more stylish, sleeker car!!

Three-Eighths Grumpy

I wove for an hour on Tuesday and it was lovely even though the progress was minimum. I wove willfully slowly, got off and on the loom deliberately, and paid more attention to my body than the cloth. But it was fun. Albeit su-looooooooooow.

Yesterday, Wednesday, I noticed I would be leaving for Australia in exactly two weeks, but the NZ$ was falling and falling. And because my hip was pop-popping again, I culled the different piles of collage material, then started wondering if two of my themes were too similar, causing me confusion. I sent Seth yet another email; I think I've used up my question quota but I started looking for an alternate theme for either, and I may have one.

Also yesterday I found out we may want to make/bring small swapsies; we were shown links to "short" videos which altogether would have taken over an hour to watch on how to make charms. I'm not a fan of goodie bags, and I'm not keen on exchanging trinkets, however wonderful they are, and I know some will be fabulous. Of course these are voluntary and one can bring as many or few or none to swap; we were even told one woman in the US gives out pencils with her website on; my kind of trinket.

I was looking for tranquility in these workshops, thinking about Dad and my family and what we lost last year, instead it sounds like it's going to be a jovial, convivial, noisy gathering and the thought was getting me down. Plus, for the last couple of years I've tried so hard to give away my mostly-Japanese trinkets and I didn't want to spend money to buy things people probably didn't need. Or want. And there are around 50 attending.

Gifts, to me, require thoughts and personal-ness. 

Well, this morning, I decided to give away the buttons I made for the exhibition two years ago. I dug up more button making kits, made buttons, got out business cards of all vintage, and made 47 of these. And ran out of time to weave or to select photos for class. Maybe I won't get to the towels.

I'm so good at dismissing people who bend to peer pressure, but voila, Exhibit A. But the organizer Sallianne and Seth have been great to me, so I'll live. And have a good time.

The buttons on the three back rows are from the exhibition, so they are lined; those on the two front rows I didn't line so the metal underneath shows through close up, but the small buttons in the front in particular were so tight I couldn't line. And some buttons got sections of the fabric with long floats so I strengthened the edges with glue. These are trinkets so I hope they'll be acceptable; I must remind everyone when I swap how fragile handwovens are.

But I made them. And you can't buy these anywhere. That's good.

Not Ready for Prime Time Weaver

I took this picture this afternoon because I wanted to say I love doing weaverly things. I was happy, doing things I was meant to do. Except sometimes, or more often than some times, experience, and words, fail me.

I suspected I might not have enough of the mid-blue for the middle stripe seen in yesterday's post, so I had a dull yellow for standby. It turned out I didn't have enough for the two narrow stripes on the sides, but also not enough gray also, so I had to readjust and vary the width of the stripes a bit. 

The colors are nice, though.

.

But I was using all new bobbins for this lot, so I never even stopped to think. Well, yeah, heck. I ran out of the palest by 12 ends, so I had to rejig these babies, too. Yikes. I'd forgotten how short one of these Swedish cottolin bobbins are compared to, well, 1kg of my skinny cottons or soft cashmeres.

I'm not sure if I'll modify the threading as well or just the width of the stripes, but I felt so incompetent. Careless. Stupid. But what bothers me the most is that I think I can wing this. Don't I strive for perfection any more? 

The brown warp is evocative of either the 1970's kitchen, (remember the choice of Harvest Gold, Avocado Green or Brown?) or it's Milk Choc, Mocha, Butterscotch & Meringue; I can't decide, but it's very brown.

And I still have to weave the gray warp before I can put these on the loom.

A Weaver's Life

Sometimes I'm told I overthink, but if I don't I'll stop doing things so I keep thinking. I've had a fun few days gathering stuff for the mixed media workshops but I felt overwhelmed by the task and stopped; now I need to be selective and random simultaneously and still comply with the airline restriction of 23kg for check-in and 7kg for carry on. Or be organized enough to send them by the end of this week.

In the interim I had a housework day and came up with a good idea while ironing Ben's numerous shirts; instead of trying to concoct scarf ideas for people I don't know well, to weave at speeds that would make Superman's head spin, i.e. well outside of my abilities, I decided to put on a towel warp. I don't know too many who can't use one more  dish towel, do you? I'll use a modified recycled threading/drafts, but will play around with new treadling/lifting, too.

In real life the warp colors are a little more saturated.

I'm also tying on another warp for Mom and me.

The dilemma last week was we had splendid sunny, calm winter days perfect for Meg's-albatross-ing, (gardening,) while inside was cold and miserable. And I was splayed on the floor at the cold end of the house tearing old mags. I go between dejection and unfounded buoyancy about the garden but I can tell you I'm really looking forward to next fall/winter; it's only eight months away.  

These Two have Radio Voices

That was my first thought when I heard Sam and Annabelle's radio interview. Here's the link; please search for "Art Talk Nelson 14 July".

Paper Trail

Sam and Annabelle's short interview was finally broadcast yesterday but it hasn't appeared in the download section; I'll repost when it appears, but the program is called Art Talk Nelson. Annabelle sold her big painting, too, so we are very happy.

After I posted the debrief, I vegetated for a day, then cleaned the house, put drawing materials away, did the laundry, but left a big pile of dishes and a basket-full of ironing. Came Thursday, Ben had a strange cold; he was in good spirits, but couldn't stop coughing, sneezing and his nose was running Coast to Coast. Surprisingly he went to see a doc on his own volition, where a lovely young lady doc said he should stay home at least until today. So for the last six days, we've been watching recorded shows and DVDs, making/eating/drinking soups, and he washed the first big pile of dirty dishes. (The ironing pile now obscures a small couch.) We missed a couple of days of braving torrential rain, (terrible flooding at the top end of the country, again,) and a lovely new event in town that started last year while I was away. Ah well, next year.

Residual attraction to watercolor haunts me. For several nights when I tried to sleep I had closeup moving pictures of watercolor spreading on and seeping into good quality paper. Lovely sight, but they kept me awake. But it wasn't a bad place to start putting together my kit for the mixed media workshops in Australia. Staying with the paper, based on color tests on scrap paper for the woven pieces I made, I'm going to make lovely of colors to cut/tear for collage.

I have a strong desire to infuse meanings to the process and outcome of three workshops I'll take from Seth Apter; I don't want to exclude the possibility of the unexpected, but I'm trying to match themes like Dad, Ben, or Ben & Me (we'll have been married 25 years next April,) and my textiles to the most suitable workshop/project.

I learned while drawing/coloring for the exhibition that I work best starting out with perhaps one-third of the hues on the color wheel but with a variety of values/saturation, then add whatever later, so I'm also hoping to assign a base color scheme for each theme. I foresee a similar scenario with texture/material/media as too many choices confuse me, so I'm trying to concoct a loose aesthetic guideline for each theme, and collecting/selecting a deep but not broad range of material.

Ditto re. gazing at gazillion images online; I reached a threshold, so I've gone back to a handful of artists I've admired for decades, Nick Bantock, Gwen Diehn, Matisse, Dufy and Macke.

I've resumed Weavers and Designers work. I know I learned from this process because I felt more discerning while making stuff for the exhibition, but while reading the next chapter I also knew the exhibition experience is feeding back into my study. But if you ask me what specifically I learned, I can't tell you, but the exhibition gave me occasions exercise my study-knowledge, which over time morphed into instincts. Which propels my desire to learn more. 

I took one book on drawing out of the library while prepping, and it was a good one so I thought I'd share it: "Creative Drawing" is by Howard J. Smagula, Laurence King Publishing, 2002. I didn't read much but gazed at the pictures, but it devotes a chapter to gesture drawing, which I understand is rare. And Howard posits gesture drawing is not as much about the model but about the artist, which is what I concluded after some years. It's not all about figure/life drawing, but looked promising as a textbook.

Although I burned a lot of firewood this winter, it's been a warm one as they predicted, and my orchids started flowering in late June, not late August as usual. Little green things are sprouting and growing all over, again, since late June; they look fresh and beautiful, but I can't help regretting I missed yet another winter of garden overhaul. Winter isn't over so I should stay on course, and Ben's taking time off after I get back from Australia, so there is scope for hope, but we did miss the boat with my exhibition and his arm problem.

My hip is better but when I least expect it.. it... I don't know the correct English expression, but it turns into not jelly but cotton fluff and I have to hold onto railings/furniture/Husband/air, especially when I go up some stairs or after I've sat for too long. I wonder if this is how older prople fall?!

I'm still afraid of getting back on the loom bench since the current one is a sensitive warp requiring me to get off/on often, and I don't want to limp around the Eastern coast of Australia with a big-for-me suitcase. I'm fine, though, for most activities most of the time, so this morning I had an idea: chuck the To Weave Before Australia list and work in the garden. I'm working through the associated guilt this afternoon.

And I want to go Kayaking; I so wanted to go with these guys two weeks ago and they had the calmest water and crispiest sunniest day Nelson can offer.   

Ah well, moving on.

Close-Up

My cousin couldn't see the woven part of the woven pieces so I found another shot. Taken on Sunday night after everything found a home, the colors are evening-y and less vibrant but only a little bit.

I think they are cute and interesting interior decorating pieces, not philosophical, and not challenging. (Except, if you must, for the distorted perspectives I enjoyed making.)