Charmed by Melbourne

I'm glad I got the Melbourne pics posted; I had been sitting on this post's words for a fortnight thinking about the too-many photos I have to go through. Melbourne is ever so photogenic.

Melbourne is wonderfully civilized, by which I mean people are polite and kind, and the size of Downtown/CBD is big enough to contain oh-so-many places of interest and beautiful buildings but small enough to remain manageable on foot; public transport is plentiful, easy to use, and in case of their achingly lovely tram, free inside the central part of the city, and information readily available. It's an amazing place as regards food, where we never had a bad meal, everything was fresh, high quality and delicious, including back street takeaway joints. I was almost tempted to try a fast food joint just to see how well they performed, but with only five days I didn't dare waste one meal; coffee didn't disappoint, (the worst we had was "average",) we knew this beforehand, but for me, brewed with the soft Melbourne water, accom owner Neil's biggest, gentlest tea leaves this side of the... 1950's was a real treat.

We chose our accommodation well; we tried AirBnB after hearing so many great reports from well-traveled friends. We wanted an apartment with kitchen, not sharing a unit, because we intended to shop at the Queen Victoria Market and cook at home. As the main goals of this holiday were art, architecture and urban photography, with whatever else we came across, (maybe some sketching, flâneur-ing, food and coffee tasting, with side trips to coffee roasteries, bookshops and art supply shops,) we wanted something unshiny, yesteryear-y, sans pools and gyms. After a few days, we found something we couldn't not have imagined in our wildest dreams. The places looks exactly like the photos, filled with Neil's late brother's artwork, Regency furniture, high ceiling and an old-time grace; beds were comfortable, shower better than our own. It's in an old converted office building, very central, but surprisingly quiet except for the weekend merriment across the street at Ms Colllins, not the club itself but folks waiting to get in, or out for a cigarette, and the obligatory urban police car at 2 or 4AM. LOL. The kitchen was smaller than we expected so didn't cook but assembled a few meals. There was no Wifi in the room, no all day Al Jazeera, Ben read a whole lot, I managed a tiny bit of sketching.

As planned we walked a lot in Melbourne; Ben usually clocked 18k steps by early afternoon, one day, before noon. But I was more out of shape, and we'd forgotten how to walk in/against the crowd. I got tired by mid-afternoon while Ben still wanted to keep going. I might have liked the accommodation more than Ben, too, and my current life of having plenty of time to savor/digest experiences may have highlighted our different "schedules". We did have one morning when he went to his favorite roastery while I stuck around the accommodation sorting the tourist info, doodling just a little, and taking photographs of the accommodation. It took two days for us to learn the lay of the land, and five until I could walk against the flow without thinking about it.

Here's a funny story. Ben had researched coffee grinders and he had to go to Padre Coffee, 438-440 Lygon Street, Brunswick East, a suburb north of the CBD. So on Day One we went to the Information Center, picked up the tram map and bought the tram cards, and off we went. He got what he wanted, plus some beans, and the cafe treated us to coffee. Friends had recommended many eateries in the Italian Precinct, mainly around the 300 block on Lygon Street, Carlton, a suburb between Brunswick East and Melbourne, so we thought we'd walk back into town. And we did. For perhaps an hour? More??  And though we found a few eateries, Lygon St was more industrial-looking with nothing like a "precinct", Italian or otherwise. When we saw 22 Lygon Street, we took the tram back into town, feeling more than disappointed.

On Sunday, we told friends Anaru and Roz how about this illusive "Italian Precinct", and they were slightly puzzled, until a light bulb went inside Roz's head: house numbers on the same street change/revert/repeat when they crossed suburbs. After 22, Lygon Street would have entered (North) Carlton, numbers resuming around 1000 on one side, 600 on the other, and it's this set of 300 block we were after, and A&R even took us to Brunetti on a crowded Sunday afternoon and a fab independent bookshop.

While the episode of the Italia Precinct was funny, the Greek Precinct was another story. In 2000 when Ben and I met up with my parents in Melbourne, we walked up and down one street trying to decide which cake shop to go into, and deciding after long last on the most crowded one very early in the day. This time, however, we found one big cake shop, (and it was big, and I took one pic, which I've since lost,) and one casual eatery, even though this time we were on the street marked "Greek Precinct". The Chinese Precinct next to it was most definitely there, though we were there too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so we only took pics.

Melbourne publishes a bookshop map. Can you believe it? We hit a few, and my best was either Books for Cooks near Queen Victoria Market, or the museum shop in National Gallery Victoria Australia-Ian Potter Centre, Federation Square, not the NGV International where the van Gogh exhibition was held. I only bought the van Gogh exhibition catalogue because I didn't see an Australian cookbook I wanted in the first instance, and everything at the gallery shop was so darned heavy. With Anaru's help, we also found one art supply shop; it was an intimidatingly serious place, mostly oil, and when I couldn't find a 150-180gms sketch pad I didn't ask. We saw some fancy portable paint brush in metal cases, though, very elegant, very yesteryear-y, very expensive. I wished I took pics of them.

Independently-owned shops are still plentiful and thriving in Melbourne. As are mending/repair/alteration shops. (Leather good repairs, in the center of town, no less!) And ever-so-many barbers and hair salons. And within downtown/CBD, no big neon or ugly signs, no big box shops in look-at-me colors. One of the eye-openers was they had a normal-sized supermarket in Southern Cross train station. In Japan, there are supermarkets in the basements of, or right next to, train stations, but not often right in the station and if you get off at a smaller station, they could well have been closed a long time by the time you went home. Melbourone's setup, where you can see the trains coming and going, seemed much more customer-friendly. Although, in fairness, it is about population, too; Japan has many more people at the station, and many more trains departing all the time. On the other hand, the population of Melbourne and Yokohama are not so different, so instead of boutique clothes shops, I say, supermarkets nearest to the stations!!

We didn't see one-tenth of historic buildings/museum/art galleries we intended to we didn't go look at tweed jackets or hats which was on my list of things I wanted to buy Ben. Because of our diet we didn't need to eat much, which was cost effective but perhaps better research may enhance our experience. I regret I wasn't in shape, but we need to discuss our different ways of enjoying/experiencing things. Ben used to be the one who didn't want me to cram our days with To Go Lists for years, so this was a surprise reversal. I had a hard time coping with big city crowd; I had a hard time relaxing most of the time and I'd be interested to observe how I cope with crowd the next time I'm in Japan. I wished I sketched more, and next time, at least part of the tip, we'd like to stay in an accommodation with a regular kitchen so we can cook with ingredients from Queen Vic Market. Oh, seafood and butter!!

And if all goes well, if neither of us has a medical/dental emergency and we don't have to replace major appliances, (fridge is already on the list; we can hear it vibrate from the bedroom now,) we may go back within the year while our tourist visa is still valid. Ben wants to go back when the days are still longer so we can make more of our time.

Or Sydney, or Brisbane, or Adelaide.

Ben's are here.

Edit: a few more thoughts. Ben and I enjoy art exhibitions in a similar way, so whatever we do, however much time we spend, we can find each other at the museum shop. Every time we go to Wellington, I wonder if I want to move there, and the answer is always, yes, if we can afford to live in the CBD and still have some quiet, which we can't. The answer is the same for Melbourne; we heard the cost of living not only in the CBD but suburbs close by are prohibitive, but it is still a seductive idea. A month in the winter in an CBD apartment would be ideal for me; being able to travel there once in a while would be alright, too. Five days was always going to be much too short, but for our first holiday in 14 years not connected to family or workshops, it went well. We're just greedy for more.

Melbourne Pics - Part II

Before the trip, I resolved to take food, architecture/urban pics and a few selfies, as well as to sketch. I didn't do a whole lot of any of them, (two selfies??) but I am happy with  some of the urban pics I did get. Melbourne is so photogenic.   

Block Arcade entrance.  

I don't remember taking this, though. 

Chinatown. 

Almost filmic.

 

Amazing what stops me in my tracks. This day it was the pictures of
Mary in the Catholic Bookshop! 

Old and new. There were worryingly numerous holes in the city where presumably old buildings had been taken down to be replaced by the new.  

Money changers at the gates of the temple, or in this case a cafe in front of a Baptist Church that looks like a Greek not-quite-temple?? 

Brunetti on Sunday afternoon in the Italian Precinct; more on this later.  

Fish and Chippery, somewhere between the Italian Precinct and the CBD. 

A most pleasant afternoon with the Woods. 

After Round I at the van Gogh exhibition.

Our accommodation; more on this later, too.  

Our last morning came all too soon. We would love to go back, and sooner rather than later. 

Melbourne Pics - Part I

Over five days, I took around 300 pictures, which is not many for me until a couple of years ago, but plenty considering I've chosen to look/experience rather than photograph/record more recently. Still, after culling, I still have enough to show you over a couple of posts so here's the first part.

Arriving at the big smokes after dark. 

View from the window of the accommodation, down Market Street,
looking south towards Yarra River.  

Block Aracade. The place was crowded and we didn't go in. 

 

Nice, eh. 

National Gallery of Victoria - Australia in Federation Square, four flights straight up.
We took the lift up to the top and came down one flight at a time. 

Padre Coffee, the only place Ben had to go in Melbourne. Otherwise we played it by ear.

Just after Padre, Ben says, "Oh, goody, there's an art supply shop for you!"

And now some from Queen Victoria Market!!

We got THE BEST  bitter soft cheese from France, and a pretty good blue. There was also a butter shop, the first time I encountered one, but since we didn't have a kitchen, (more on this later,)
I could only admire in awe.

Yeah, start training them early!!

Best coffee at the market according to the local gentleman who shared our table,
and darned good sausages, too. 

I was looking forward to all kinds of specialty produce stalls, but this was the only "Italian" stall I found, although many others carried a few typically Mediterranean produce.
There were plenty of Asian produce stalls with, among others, amazingly-looking bitter gourds!

I love radicchio; I usually wash and eat them raw, but this time we had some scrumptious cheese.

Vincent, Ben and I in Melbourne

The exhibition.  It was immensely satisfying.

From the reading before the trip and my less-than-thrilling experience in Auckland, (sixth para,) I expected a smallish exhibition with not too many of his most famous paintings. That turned out to be the case, and a blessing. Compared to what I would expect of a painting exhibition, (nobody said this is a painting exhibition, though,) there were many more sketches; prints of other artists' paintings, the likes of which Vincent sold in his short art dealer career, and later studied and copied; and too many Japanese woodblock prints, which were in vogue after first appearing in Exposition universelle of 1867 and he and Theo collected.

I didn't count but there were perhaps around 40 oils, and at least two tiny, extremely detailed watercolors. Most/all paintings had glass in front but the lighting was good I had to look from all direction to check; at least one piece was badly situated, though, with the green glare of the exit sign dominant from my height. I was obsessed with this glass issue this exhibition, as some of his paintings glistened, making them look less Vincent-esque, (or rather, my preconceived notion of his work,) and I wondered if it was the glass or an extra layer of varnish. This was noticeable perhaps due to the short distance allowed to view, the lack of crowd, or the works being hung lower, compared to my previous Vincent experiences. I could see the grooves of the impasto, and where the peaks were flattened because he rolled up a lot before completely drying to post to Theo, I'd like to think. If I had another chance, I'd go looking for his finger prints.

Before we left home, I was told Tuesdays tended to be quiet, and once there, to come in at 9AM when the gallery opens. That's what we did; we were about the 20th in the queue at the main door, and perhaps 12th for the tickets. We did the first round in relative peace and quiet, and after a coffee, went back in, this time competing with a crowd that included a few best-behaving school groups I've ever seen in art exhibitions. And then we went home once, but I am a fan of art galleries just before closing and we couldn't help ourselves and returned at 4 for the last hour.

Having less well-known pieces and being able to stand close allowed us to look more carefully. One of the most interesting discoveries was his use/distribution of details: in his heyday of heaping impasto, he loaded details in some parts of the paintings while just covering the canvas with a thin layer in others. (Ben joked that he ran out of paint for the day.) This made the eyes linger on the rich, layered area in the way they do on focused areas of a photograph. This was most evident in our favorite piece, The Green Vineyard, (October 2-3, 1888, Arles,) in which if you divided the painting horizontally into five nearly equal sections, the middle section and the one below were the richest, followed by the right half (?) of the top section and the central part of the second from top. And on my screen, this linked photo is pretty darned close to the colors I remember.

The official line is colors burst into Vincent's work after arriving in Paris, but I found it wasn't necessarily so. He indeed used bright colors to great effect, so perhaps mixing more hues after Paris would be more accurate. My recollection of Planting Potatoes, (September 1884, Nuenen,) has a darker (but not blacker) sky and browner earth, making the pale orange sunset all the more starker than the linked photo. Likewise I enjoyed the intended/unintended abstraction of the human form; he struggled with human proportions and they are often inaccurate, but the earlier, blockier shapes are funny and compassionate. Potato Digging (five figures), (August 1883, The Hague,) in my mind, was much more vibrant and adorably naive. Suffice it to say, his Dutch paintings were far from all Potato Eaters!

If we are examining seasons, I would have liked to have seen a couple from his dark Drenthe days, but that's nobody's fault but his, as he suddenly decided to leave town and all his possessions. Also from The Hague when he had a glimpse of a "family" life he craved, and was presumably as happy as Vincent was able. (And seasons don't need to be confined to the country, do they?) There were more from his Nuenen days than I expected, fewer flowers-in-vases from Paris, proportionately few of his more famous Arles and Saint-Rémy paintings, giving it a distinct impression of very short summers in the South of France, but a good number from Auvers-sur-Oise considering the very short "stay" there. Alas, no weaver paintings, as we had one of the worst jobs ever, stuck in our holes of houses in the dark toiling away, regardless of the season!

I'm finicky about exhibition catalogues. I don't have faith in the colors, many are ridiculously expensive and/or weighs a ton and a half, a few are light on content. This, though, had many photos of works not included in the exhibition, and lots of text for the size of the exhibition, so even though the colors are not at all how I remember, and it weighed in at well over 2kg, paperback, (NGV didn't bother with hardcover; I wonder why!) I brought one home.

When translated into photographs, it is the colors, shapes and lines of paintings that appeal the most, so some of our favorites from the exhibition made ho-hum postcards, (many weren't made into postcards at all,) while some colorful but not-as-intriguing-in-person-on-this-occasion works looked great on merchandises. We came home with not even a postcard, unheard of for moi.

I also saw my very first Rothko at the same gallery, a pale pink-orange job and rather flat. (We went around their permanent collection on Saturday, well before approaching Vincent.) I was terribly disappointed.

But it was great fun looking at Vincent's work with Ben, his first time viewing in person. He loves landscape photography so he enjoyed the subject; typically he noticed strange and minute details. It's wonderful we can keep talking about the exhibition and relive the experience over and over. I think Vincent has a new fan.

I Mended my Pants

The knee on my favorite fawn-colored cords had a rip, so I stuck a piece of calico on the back and applied some creative zig-zagging on my straight-and-zig-zag-only sewing machine. It won't prevent further demise of the pants, (as you can see where the fabric has thinned to almost transparent,) but these are my favorite pair of pants and great for cool-weather gardening so I'm hoping it will last this season.

I'm not a good seamstress, but then neither is my sewing machine. The model was discontinued in the 80's with the influx of computerized machines with embroidery, but there were folks like me who wanted to sew only straight or zig zag, backward and forward, so the manufacturer had to bring back the model, and it was cheaper and smaller than others. (In Japan, Ben and I lived in a 42 square meter apartment.) I thought it was great at the start, but it doesn't allow tension control of the bottom thread, (the one in the bobbin,) only the top, nor really fine-tune the size of the stitches or accommodate different thicknesses of the fabric, so it's OK for dealing with simple cotton/blends but not much else. Although it could be the operator lacking knowledge.

Where am I going with this? They're behind my cords. Today's task was making calico bags for posting my pieces. (Something else I should have done before the Sale went public.) I don't have a big enough surface so I cut my fabric on wool carpet, using sticks around the loom to draw straight lines. With the current lot in the Pop-Up shop, I only needed to cut them weft-wise, fold in half, make two French seams, and sew on my big label. Although fluffy and somewhat unruly, I used calico's selvedge for the open part of bag. Sounds simple, doesn't it?

I still don't blame my sewing machine, but suffice it to say, these are nothing to write home about; in addition, I never knew calico is this stiff. I'll try not to loose too much sleep over these; they come free with the pieces. Still, I wished I could do a better job.

I ordered plastic Size 6 envelops that go over this yesterday, (yet one more thing I should have done before, blah, blah.) Ben's going to get one sample Size 6 envelope tomorrow so we can pack and reply with correct P/P to inquiries.

However, I am happy my big labels came into good use. I've been hesitating to put on any label on anything as they are stiffer than cashmere, especially, but also finer merinos and cotton pieces. Plus I don't like assigning A-/B-sides on a piece. Calico bags were all Doni's idea, and she gave me plenty more advice, but I couldn't find the picture of her superior model today.

I am enjoying communicating about my pieces with folks. That's the good part of my Pop-Up Sales.

Second Pop-Up: Caressable Cashmeres

My second Pop Up sale is up, and oh, it was a lot of work, as those of you who have online shops must know. There's the decisions, like price and P/P, the photography, the write up, and the whole flow! I've always prided on being a competent project manager although I prefer to be a solider in charge of a small part, but when it comes to pop up shops, I fail bigly. And mostly knowingly.

After the last one 16 months ago, Ben and I had a big debrief plus I got valuable input from Cally and Doni. And although the calendars tell me I had 16 months to think about and work on them, I took up only some of the pointers, partly because of limitations, (e.g. my house as a backdrop, yikes, and photographic skills;) my preferences, (one long post rather than photo/click to sub-pages, although this may change in the future;) or because it felt like too much work. I've done some tasks back-to-front, the most important being, because I managed to have more or less similar size/weight for seven of the nine pieces, learning the approximate P/P ahead of going public.

So it is with a slightly mixed feeling, but do please have a look, and let me know what you think of it, the setup, the pics, the blurbs, the flow; if you have opinions, (the stronger the better,) on how to improve, or just feedback, please let me know.

Thank you.

"I Make Nice Things"

Corresponding with Cally propelled me to behave more weavery, (shouldn't it be weaverly?) not quite all the way to the loom bench, but: a) in reminding me of an idea I've really wanted to work on, with tied weave of some sort, and the idea came more developed than when I left it on the back burner; b) in making me realize I was actually sick of not weaving; and c) in making me work on the pop-up store some more. Even though just four days ago I wasn't feeling it, handling my stuff was nice. As well, I saw one of my wobbly-selvedge culprits; a pale green, (one I call "lime sherbet",) in spite of the label, may have been be thicker or fulled differently from other 2/26s, although this discovery is far from "solving" my technical problems.

But my cashmeres felt bloody marvelous.

I'm hoping to hold two Pop-Up sales, one after the other, the first being mostly mid-sized cashmeres and the second, a Big Old Chunky Wooly sale with lots of with-scale wool pieces. (Can you think of an adjective starting with C I can use for the cashmere sale? Capricious?)

I've been thinking of Pop-Up since I was in Japan in Feb last year. It's a lot of work, (oh, dear me!) but I enjoy the direct interaction with prospective customers. I can sure use some income, and let's face it, being remunerated is one way of validating one's work, and if your work represents your person, then your life, in these modern times.

Early April, Mrs Cady had a significant birthday at the end of their holiday. Dr Cady had hinted it would be fun if we could fly up to the North Island to celebrate. It was a lovely invite, but also expensive; Ben couldn't go but I dithered. I couldn't justify the cost, but I wanted to go because of an exhibition in Auckland, because I'd been so stuck in my making and cities do me good, and I wanted to take part in a significant birthday when normally the Cadys would be surrounded by their many friends and family. So I went. And had a great time.

(The exhibition itself was underwhelming. There were too many genitals and not enough nudes for my taste, if you get my meaning, but the exhibition had a socio-political angle and Thomas at Volume told me to rethink it in that context after I gave an unfavorable report. This exhibition was curated by a Kiwi working in Sydney, from memory, and tours Sydney and Auckland. I couldn't help thinking had the show been intended for larger cities, say, Tokyo, (because exhibitions from Europe usually travel to three large cities in Japan,) Tate might have loaned works with a bit more... spark. But as has become the pattern, I had a totally satisfying two days walking around large spaces amidst artworks, many from their permanent collection, and the birthday brunch was lovely.)

Sometime in late-April/early-May, Mom said I should go visit her in the Northern fall rather than the usual February, because we can't go places in February. Trains have stooped somewhere every time I've been home last several Februaries, and I take it she wants to travel with me. I do love winter in Yokohama, but big exhibitions take place in spring and fall there, and goodness me, what do I find but van Gogh and Japan! (Incidentally, while I was focused reading about Vincent's relationship with Gauguin in the second half of last year, there was van Gogh and Gauguin at the same museum. Darn!)

I tried to suss out Ben's opinion on this new plan, and for the first time he expressed concerns with the expense. I never imagined there was anything we don't talk about whenever, and I thought he'd become such a home body he gave up travelling. Not so. It was the money, and my lack of income, (how embarrasing!), his dental work, our increasing medical bills, and rising cost of living.

Then someone reminded me of van Gogh and the Seasons, not in Japan but in Melbourne!

We haven't had a holiday together since 2003 in Scotland and Ireland. We have been to Japan several times together but they involved family illnesses/death so we only had a day here and there. We've been on one or two road trips in New Zealand but they were all connected to my attending workshops, so Ben was on his own during the day.

So we bit the bullet and decided to have a week in Melbourne.

Melbourne is one heck of an attractive city, beautiful, full of places of foody interest, with the CBD/downtown area relatively small and easy to get around either on foot or by public transport. I am drawing a list of art and craft supply shops; Ben, of coffee equipment shops, and both of us specialty bookshops. And our accommodation is near many theaters, I would so love to squeeze in a play. But our main goal is always walking around town, looking at architecture, stopping to refuel, and this trip, Ben will take pictures but I may try some drawing/sketching. And meet up with two sets of friends. Oh, we can't stop talking about Melbourne. And a proper holiday.

I would still like to go to Japan Oct/Nov if at all possible, but we'll play that by ear. There is also a good chance of a road trip down south in November. Ergo, the Pop-Up sales.

And here are some raw, (not in RAW format, but untreated,) pics from today. I'm so out of practice, I had to relearn a few things. Aside from the selvedge, though, I do make nice things, even if there is always room for improvement.

Nowhere in my house makes a good backdrop, but the entrance hallway gets good light in the late morning/early afternoon. I practiced using different white balance settings to capture the truest colors of the pieces. Except colors on the camera's LCD panel are quite different colors from those on the laptop, so... there we have it.

I have four red pieces, the hardest color to capture.

 After 2-ish/3-ish only harsh light comes in from the living room.

But I liked the dark/light photos today. I might experiment more of this style for detail/moody shots.

A self-portrait of my thumb.

Thinking and Stuff

I've been thinking a lot lately, at least I hope so; I hope I haven't been not thinking. My word-forgetting has gotten so bad I hesitate to go out and meet up with humans some days. I don't know if this correlates with not thinking, but that's something Ben's Dad hinted at when he started having memory problems. On the other hand, I've been providing some hilarity; a while back I couldn't remember the word, "marinade" so even though I knew it was the wrong word, I said, "kinda like 'mutilate'", and since then we've had a lot of nice mutilated meals.

It's marginally better when I type, especially because search is always there. (Well, when we have Internet connections, which has been super dodgy; a day with a dozen interruptions is now a splendidly productive one, but heck, it's not war or natural disaster.)

Then there is my worry that verbalizing, typing, and especially publishing on the internet, changes my thinking into different kinds of thoughts. Sure, vague thoughts sometimes transform into actionable bullet points, (ugh, management-speak,) but sometimes slight variations and nuances get lost. I can actually see, as I type, second-fiddle, third-, the whole orchestra fading away. I also some of the times I think I'm not I'm thinking, ideas are working out their own solutions, like elves planning a surprise party at night; I've learned to leave those guys along. I still worry when it feels like there's no thinking going on, due to my first ever encounter in my first ever philosophy class, (senior year, Washburn High School, the saintly Mr Ario,) having been with Descartes.

Some thoughts are returns/reincarnations/rehashing of old thoughts, many of which have been shared here before, and I don't feel compelled to repeat, even if I may be able to paraphrase them better. (Now, shouldn't that be "betterly"?) Some of these thought sound same-old even to me, and I also wonder if "recurring" issues/topics are all that paramount, or just a list of stuff I can't get over.

Which makes me routinely assess, should I keep blogging? It's not that blogging is a chore for me, I'm the only one I'm embarrassing, but with no new thoughts, no news, no new weaving, and blogging as a form of communication playing second- and third-fiddle to flashier, newer ways of internetting, is it still a viable method? Should I make Unravelling private and age gracefully? Why bother with the internet, why not a Word file? But here, the answer has invariably and inevitably been no. I don't associate with many folks in person; I've shed most social responsibilities so I can live in hiding, and occasionally I hear from you based on what I say here, so this is my umbilical cord to the world. Kinda sad, but this is how it turned out, for now.

I've thought to volunteer in town, something refugee-, art-, or third-word related, but every time I give it serious thought, I pull back, because I don't want to commit, don't think I can commit. There is the voices-in-my-head thing where I regurgitate conversations after mingling, but also niggling minor health problems, from which I'm taking a break. Fixing them, that is. I can't be bothered. (The right hip problem has become a left knee problem, still caused by the way I sit, and left shoulder problem has gotten worse, but I can't be bothered going back to acupuncture. Before extending my head meds prescription, Good Doc Karl wants me to get tested if I'm allergic to any of the new foods in our diet, but I can't be bothered, and it's a little expensive.) And then paranoia sets in; I'm convinced "they" know I won't do an adequate job, or they really don't like me, so here I sit.

In terms of eating, I know it's bad manners, but when Ben's not home I prefer to stand by the kitchen counter and eat, not sit properly, because then I don't have to sit and resit to make sure I'm doing it correctly.

Because we "quit" carbohydrate, (we cheat, but far less often than Doc Karl allows us,) I lost my hobby/pet sourdough, and now I'm into fermentation/pickling. For a few weeks I was cutting up something every single morning. But there are only two of us and we can eat only so much fermented veg, and while I got used to the warm, sweet aroma of fermentation in my fridge, some age more quickly than others and yesterday morning we woke up to quite an alarming smell, (picture a jar with a small black furry life form in it,) but I couldn't see it. So I cleaned the whole fridge, wiping every surface with vinegar, opening every single jar/bottle/container and sniffing them, and still no casualty. I replaced all three containers of baking soda, again, but this morning, there was a hint of the same critter. So I think the universe/fridge is telling me to make a far less at once. (If you want quicker fermentation of sauerkraut and the like: dilute a small amount of miso in the brine, or rub it in with the salt when mixing with the veg. Because miso has so much salt in it, I tend to make weaker brine to cover the veg, but I think this may be causing the white mold, and the regular 2-3% brine is better. I get a while film on the surface of the water often, which I skim every day, and can't tell if this is caused by miso; my fermentation knowledge is still in its infancy.)

I've been listening to a lot of podcasts/audiobooks while cutting veg and washing jars. And I do love auto/biographies and author interviews as they do make me reflect on my life. But are recurring thoughts/issues really paramount or even important, or am I just not able to get over them and move on?

Because of Cally's Feng Sui comment, (my description, not hers,) I went downstairs and wound a warp yesterday. Apparently after I made the warp, my super sharp scissors' got too near it and seven ends were severed at the same place, about the middle of an 8m warp; I put in temporary ties but that is going to cause me some headaches at the green end. Not sure on the threading yet.

The wild ride continues.

PS. There are a lot of people feeling, I hope low-level, anxiety and depression right now. Let's talk to other humans and get medical/financial/legal help, especially if we start to feel we are not our usual selves. With changing times, if the "help" is not adequate, let's look elsewhere, because "they" might be as confused; let's persist until we get what we need. Even if a whole lot of this is a big, f-ing, unnecessary bother if it weren't for the few who don't know how to publicly/civilly serve. Promise.

Segue

Something our mutual Letter Journal friend Fran did, paper weaving, got Tess and me thinking about... me talking about one of my favorite things, warped paper weaving, last night. That's weaving plain weave with paper strips, but not in regular, rectangular strip in my case, and how it's hard to maintain shapes-with-intentions, (either the shape/dimensions of the finished piece as a whole or some shape/outline I want to highlight,) in the finished piece. It's easier to show you rather than describe in words.

I drew/traced more or less the same heart on four sheets of extremely thin origami paper.

I cut two sheets in straight-edged strips from one edge to the other, one horizontally and one vertically, and wove them. With this example I laid out all the horizontal strips and inserted the vertical strips starting with the left edge. Afterwards, I tried to make the right and top edges as straight as  possible, and ran out of vertical strips to fit last vertical at the right end. The resultant whole is not the same square size/dimension as the original, and the heart outlines don't match; the more strips I weave, towards the right, the more wobbly the outline becomes.

Here I cut two sheets in curvy lines, some cuts not going all the way from across the paper. Again, horizontal strips were laid out and vertical inserted starting at the left end, and tried to make the top and left edges straight. With these wobbly weaves, I often concentrate on the outline/shapes, worrying less about the whole piece's shape. It's the same with the naked ladies, the sixth picture down, where I focused on a few points like elbows, knees, and tried to match them. I may have even trimmed the edges where particular strips were way out of line, as it were.

With thicker/harder paper, the wobbles get worse, as it gets harder to fit the strips closer when allowing for the thickness. Although the distortions are also intriguing, surprising and in cases quite pleasing.

You can create wonderful movements/moods/intentions with the curvy lines. If shapes/outlines-with-intentions are key to your piece, using thinner paper and fewer, thicker strips work better, but for me, the whole movement is what makes these interesting. Some of the bottom pics from Clare Plug workshop illustrate this. 

It's another cold day here, and when/if the wind dies down, I expect some garden time coming. It looks pretty good already, but first, Ben has a cheesecake cooling in the kitchen. Good day!

PS. Fran has a fantastic, collaborative "pamphlet" project. Per contributor the workload is light, and I hope I get my act together so I can post about it in case some of you can take part.

Faces and More Warps

Sisyphus' Gardening Season started two weekends ago, although I haven't been back outside. It's cold and crisp unbelievably early this year and I am loving it.

A month ago, I made three tiny warps, probably 7 inches wide at 16EPI, though I might go 18EPI. Nothing to write home about, but cheerful colors meant for four shafts. I've been tempted to put one on the loom, even though I have no idea what sort of threading or overall look, but every time I go downstairs I remember the humiliation of that cashmere warp, and I stop. I've got to get over this, so I might try a very different look, whatever that may be.

At one point in April I remembered the free postcard thingie was due at the end of the month and I had to get my act together.

Typical of me, I had to make things harder the second time around and a little less fun; this lot took longer and I'm not as satisfied with the results. Harder how? Whenever I saw a face, I added more "wash" to make it "layered", even to obscure the faces. I also continued to experiment with yellows and yellow-greens, turning everybody looking sickly. Then, the paint I used this time, a Japanese student watercolor, was less transparent/translucent and behaved more like gouache, and I couldn't get a handle on it. Lastly, the postcards are different; these were smoother and less like the typical watercolor paper; at first I thought I'd have to collage, but the packaging said they are suitable for watercolor or ink. Again, the experience was so different from the previous lot, and I never got used to this pack. Half a dozen were so not working, I ran the cards under the tap! You may be able to spot a few better-blended, physically flat cards. At any rate, they were posted with a day left; some unfortunate souls are receiving more than they asked for.

These two are staying with me because I haven't figured out how to resolve them.

I painted my usual back-and-forth arc on the left card, then mono-printed, (I don't think it's a real verb, but you know, I placed a fresh card top of the wet card to let it pick up some paint,) a mirror image to the right. Then shuffled them back into the deck and applied washes, as well as picked up paint from several other cards. On the left card, I can't get over where the green paint showed up; nose, top lip and chin, although the eyes and forehead are a bit tricky. The right is a little harder to see, but there is the chin, and if you look at it too long, a profile of 45 pops up grumpy and defiant!

After these were done, I've sporadically kept working on Letter Journals, both in groups and one-on-ones with Tess, who continues to challenge me in a very good way.

I'm happy I'm completely over coveting mixed media products, but find LJs challenging at times as I try new techniques, look for fresh ideas, and try to improve my drawing skills. I must have enjoyed the postcards, too, because I bought some A5 size watercolor paper and painted backgrounds on some, then washed all of them. This must horrify those of you who know how to size paper properly, but my intention is to learn how 200 and 300gms paper react and absorb water. The plan is, because I couldn't find a suitable watercolor paper sketchbook in Auckland, I'm going to draw/paint/collage a whole bunch of faces, I think, on these and take it to the copy center and have them spiral-bound with covers. This is a long-term project, although it may morph into something else. I have been keeping up a-face-everyday project, too. Amazingly.

I've been hoping to get back to weaving and have liked a few more art/weaving pages and joined a few more weaving groups on Facebook, but even when I see nice things my heart doesn't sing/dance/tingle any more. (I sure study the selvedge, though.) It may be a good time to focus on techniques or learn new structures or dyeing, and maybe the tingle will come back. But, gosh, darn it, I thought weaving was my vocation; who would have thought one wonky warp would so quickly and completely wipe out the excitement. On the other hand, my rather clinical/detached is nothing news so maybe I just need to get back on the loom bench, yes?

And Donna, I haven't died under a pile of rubble in an earthquake just yet. I haven't been able to stay with one thought long enough to finish a post. :-D