Randy Darwall 2006 Review

That is not to say that I will ever do anything less than worship Randall Darwall, his work and his teaching. Besides, he and Brian are such nice guys. But I find colors difficult to work with, and I do get a right, old headache when I think about it. So I'm putting it in the "Too Hard" basket for now. Again.

I finally located a slide show on his web, and I think they are shots from shows in Baltimore, Boston and Washington (DC?) he participated in in 2006, but I'm not sure if all the pieces are by Randy. I wish I could download some of the photos for closer inspection, but I haven't found a way yet, though you could right click on any given photo and print. There's one heck of a magnificent building (in Boston?) and I'm glad they got the shot of the carpet from above; and they saved the best shot to the last for us fans.

There is definitely a high glitter quotient in the US this summer; I'm not sure about that; I don't go out after 7PM nowadays so glitters don't do much for me.

Where to Next?

It's now been 12 days since I closed my Exhibit(ion), and I've been trying to get back to my normal for the last three. And I've been wondering, "Where to next?"

I have lots of goals/items on my To Do lists: I must learn a new twill for my sample exchange; I have three commission pieces on hold; I must weave more small cashmere scarves for Red Gallery. And I have to file my tax return. I am never short of techniques and weave structures I want to learn and/or sample.

But aesthetically, in spite of Randy's workshop and the various experiments I did to weave a "collection" for the Exhibit(ion), I want to return to "my kind" of cloths. I love subtle cloths showing off weave structures and subtle differences in textures. I was cleaning up my photo files this afternoon and fell in love with some of the pieces I wove in late 2004. All in close hues, mostly in "doodle" weft-wise undulating twills. I think these cloths are more elegant than some of the pieces I wove for the Exhibit(ion), and I like them better.

Thank goodness I have several To Do lists; I don't have to choose a direction now.

Maybe I didn't Have a Late Start

Blenheim Weaver Rose took us to the home/studio of Picton damask weaver/textile artist Peg. Peg is not only an accomplished weaver, but an absolutely lovely lady with a great sense of humor; she asked me if I sold anything at the Exhibit(ion), to which I said no; she then whispered, "People are stupid."

Peg is 89, and weaves every day; she started weaving sometime in the the 1970's. So I'm thinking, with a lot of effort, I too can be an accomplished weaver by the time I'm 89, and that's been the best news I heard in a while!

D Day & Thank You

Today was the last day of the Exhibit(ion); I closed at 3PM, took off the shawls, the photos and the blurb sheets, and we came home before 6PM. I am tired and somewhat emotional.

I will miss Lloyd immensely. I will miss the high ceiling and the light, but not the heat. I won't miss the horrible-tasting water.

I'm somewhat baffled that only a year ago I was telling Ben that some day I would like to have a weaving Exhibit(ion) in the front room of Gallery 203, and now, I've done it.

I did not sell a single shawl, and to be honest, I am disappointed. Secretly, I had thought "Gentle" would go. I would have wanted at least one piece to sell, for Arts Council and all the time Lloyd spent advising/coaching me. The Shawl vs. Wraps debate started to bug me as I was dismantling my Exhibit(ion). And that might have been immaterial. Several people have commented that my prices were extremely reasonable or "too cheap; are you getting your cost back at that price?", but of course those who thought I was dreaming didn't comment.

I am tickled to think someone paid me money for my photograph!!

But without wanting to sound like a credit card commercial, it was the many new and renewed friendships that was the greatest reward in the whole project. I chose to stay in my basement in the past few years, and I chose to bury my head in the cones of yarns, but I was reminded that I am blessed with good people around me. That includes all of you visiting my blog and encouraging me and sending me emails and fabulously funny cards.

I received a card from Rita in Dallas on Thursday; in it, she wrote: "I hope you bust out some sweet weaves today!" Let my year of apprentice begin.

Debriefing with Lloyd

Meet Lloyd Harwood, painter, manager of Arts Council Nelson, and mentor extraordinaire; he paused especially for this blog.

Although he thought I had about the average number of people come and look at the Exhibit(ion), we both experienced the strange phenomenon of repeatedly being asked where the Exhibit(ion) is. Lloyd thought this was due to the perception that handwoven shawls are not something shown in an art gallery; in addition, I thought the small number of shawls lead people to think there was a bigger gallery "room" elsewhere.

We agreed this perception was the big stumbling block, (see also the February 12 post), in generating more interests or sale; whereas jewelry and pottery/ceramics have successfully made the transition into what he calls "studio" work, handweaving is still stuck in grandmother's spare room; handwoven cloth is not something one goes to see in an art gallery, but in a souvenir/craft shop. And the cloth themselves are not delicate textiles that can be worn and collected, but functional garments to be worn for a while and then be recycled as a dog blanket.

One of the suggestions he had, if I were to have another Exhibit(ion), was to generate a public discussion (possibly in the arts pages of the newspaper) as to how the art of handweaving in evolving, and following it up with an Exhibit(ion) so as to show what we have claimed. And to give credence to the discussion, he thought I could apply for funding to invite weavers successfully working with new/advanced techniques, and ask them to give floor talks or slide presentation, as well as have their work in the Exhibit(ion).

Brilliant! I don't know the practical steps I need to talk to realize this, but it sounds so exciting I'm seriously thinking about another Exhibit(ion)... in a couple of years.

Post Script: I chose to use the word "shawl", because, to me, it sounds elegant, fine and dressed-up. I was talking to Sue, and she thought the word sounds grandmotherly. What I weave is usually called "wraps" in New Zealand, a word which, to me, sounds more casual and the cloth coarser. I've heard "stole" as well, but to me, this is very grandmotherly, knitted or crocheted. What would you call the large-ish rectangular piece of cloth you could wear in the cold or in the evenings, but is rather fine and you might want to have them in a few different colors?

D Minus One Day

My goodness, I'm glad everyday was not like today; it was action packed!

I sold something, but not a shawl. A gentleman from Christchurch wanted to buy this photo, one of six I cut up in three and stuck on the stair way; he actually wanted to buy a big oil painting of this, but since I don't even doodle (except on the weaving software), he had to contend with a copy of the photo (at $10) and find a painter. Lloyd wavered the Arts Council commission and GST (sales tax)!

Three mums and four babies came to Kath's concert; I think I'm supposed to say it was wonderful. Kath certainly shines when she's around kids, and she was a superb one-woman Giggle; it's as if she gains energy from the kids that surround her. However, those of you who have/had children know how much noise they generate, and how they run/crawl in any direction you don't intend them to go; Kath, Lloyd, and Hella, who also works at Arts Council, all have/had children, but it's been a while since I've been around micropersons, so I, and only I, was going out of my mind.

Rose, a textile artists turned ceramic artist who had the seed pot installation in this very gallery some years ago, took time out of her busy day to come and visit. I got carried away talking about the process of creating an Exhibit(ion) that I didn't really get to talk to her. Then a woman joined the discussion; long story short, she (in line with the opinion of her weaving teacher who is well-known in her country) thought I need to get back to basics and try color and texture on my 4-shaft loom.

There is an outdated argument that claims weaving on computer-controlled looms is not "handweaving". There are various fine lines weavers ourselves have drawn as to what is allowable and what not in order to call one's craft "handweaving"; many claimed in the early 90's that because the mechanism of lifting the shafts and/or selecting which shaft to lift for a particular shed is mechanically controlled, setup like my big loom is not "hand" weaving. But with the proliferation of computer programs and computer-controlled (aka computer dobby) looms, I hadn't realized that there were still those who held on to this notion.

I don't know this woman, and I was quite at a loss as to why she threw a curve ball suddenly. And frankly, I found her suggestion offensive. It's too late for me to go back to 4-shaft only. While I own a 4-shaft jack loom, and enjoy weaving on it immensely, I also need the 16-shaft computer-control to weave the kind of cloth I like, and I find it odd to reject new technology or material just because they are new, as if only old methods and tools are legitimate. And I didn't see any connection between what she told me repeatedly and what I was trying to discuss with Rose. I don't think I was getting too precious because I was the "artiste", either.

If it's not dangerous and I can afford it without taking out a second mortgage, I'll try anything once, to see if the method or equipment helps me make the kind of cloth I like. I am slow to try new things, but I don't shun anything just because I am unfamiliar with them.

I was trying my best not to loose it. It was strange; I appreciate anyone bothering to come up and see my Exhibit(ion), but I just could not understand her motivation or insistence. And the sad thing is, she may have been trying to be friendly and make conversation, and I was too pig-headed to hear it that way.

Later, I had a debriefing about the Exhibit(ion) and my pieces with Lloyd; this was so interesting I'm putting it in a separate post.

Fine Work

I've been demonstrating in the gallery by weaving small scarves, approximately 6 inches wide and 150cm long (yes, like many Kiwi weavers, I think of width in imperial and length in metric!); I'm weaving these in 18DPI or 15DPI, so it's not fine, but I'm surprised with the number of people who comment how fine this appears. Weavers around the world are weaving 60DPI and 80DPI (and finer) silk scarves, so actually it's comparatively coarse nowadays. Naturally I had this idea: a group Exhibit(ion) of handwoven scarves and shawls at a minimum of 30DPI or so, called, what else, "Fine".

Though they might really look like remnants of bed sheets and get shaken terribly. /retaliatory_sarcasm

D Minus Two Days

Looking back, "bored" may have been the wrong word. My creativity feels constrained because I am not home and I don't have my equipment. Because I can weave in the gallery, rather than weave and design and warp and wash and daydream and all the rest of the tasks I do to create a shawl. I feel constrained because I can only weave; it sounds contradictory, but any given day, I pace around the house, put cones next to each other to see if the color combination works; smell the scaly merino yarns; see if a new twill idea would work on the computer; look out the window; call my mother and ask what she's weaving; and reread my notes and look at the photos from Randy's workshop and try to recall the sensation of seeing his scarves. I hadn't realized until now how kinetic my design process is. I keep thinking of what our friend Gino Rocco said: the best way to shut up an Italian is to tie his hands behind his back.

I love talking to people who come up these stairs. Some are weavers or people involved in other fiber crafts; some read Matt's article; some are tourists who read the letters "Weaver --->" on the pavement at the bottom of the stairs; and some are my friends. I love talking to Lloyd about colors and values and the drama in his paintings, or where craft, and weaving, is going in New Zealand. I have enjoyed all these conversations, and some of the ideas while talking will make into my work. But I miss my pace, and I miss my basement. And I look forward to going back to my norm, of having my mind's hands untied so I can wave them all I want. All in three days.

And when I go back, I know I'll miss not being able to talk to Lloyd; he is a gentle man (especially when he's not holding a sandpaper), a knowledgeable painter, and a generous mentor. I'll miss the high ceilings and tall windows of these rooms. I'll miss the peppermint green loo. But having an Exhibit(ion) was like having a holiday; I have been there, and if I want to, I can go back there, but the second time will not be the same as the first.

Tomorrow is Kath's last Lunch time concert.

D Minus Three Days

Today started out cool and ended up hot again. I've been feeling a little sad about the impending last day of the Exhibit(ion), at the same time just can't finish it quickly enough. It hasn't been as much an emotional roller coaster, as a merry-go-round, and my boredom threshold is low on hot days. And I wonder if there are fewer folks in town this week, because the "Weaver --->" letters I write with chalk on the footpath every morning hadn't disappeared by the end of the day.

I love the gallery space, it's high ceiling and strange windows. I love being able to talk to Lloyd about colors and values and Nelson's attitude to the arts. But I'm ready to move on, move back into my basement and concoct my next shawl on the big loom. I miss the solitude, my hermit-like life.

I've been gradually getting back to my "normal" life, going to the gym again and taking the bus home. The next exhibitor's paintings were delivered this afternoon. My turn is nearly over.

Unnerving

I have a web site, and I blog. I had a wee piece in the local newspaper. And I tried to get people to come to my Exhibit(ion), and some do. Yet, it's kind of unnerving when strangers know my name and ask me about my time in the US or about my mother and tell me it is nice to finally meet me - and I have no idea who they are or what they do.

I'm so glad I never made it to Hollywood. I love my basement, thank you.