Life Cannot Get Back to Normal Now

It feels like a lifetime ago I had this piece of cake at the Red Gallery in the morning before I left for Northland. I had a good time away, and now I've lots to think about, lots to ask, lots to weave.

The biggest, and worst, news for me is that our guardian marketer Martin Rodgers resigned from Arts Marketing in Nelson for a presumably bigger job in Wellington; very deserving, no doubt, but I do feel like an abandoned waif. He told us in an email right after I left; he must have timed it so I can't protest outside his office with a big placard!! Not good for Nelson, I tell you.

Georgina's Baby Blanket #2

Yes, you heard me right; this is the second baby blanket. I'll post the details of the cost of inexperience, tomorrow if I can find the time. Meanwhile, I need to go hide under a blanket.

Megg Hewlett Says...

I love some of the words and thoughts that come out of Megg's mouth.

One of the things we were talking about was our different approaches. She commented that weaving is, within the fiber art/craft, akin to accounting in that if there is 1 cent left, I kind of worry, but 3 cents left, and I'm back to the drawing board; with her felted knit bags, she tells me she has a little more leeway in her process. I'd like to think that after 7 years, I have about, oh, 7 cents in my cash box for a rainy day, but she's right, and part of why I am a weaver is the restrictions the craft/structure poses. I can't do much that is, to me, "free form"; I can't play with clay, I can't knit, I can't paint; but within the confines of the loom, or a camera, I can "make" things.

There is much to think about here because my color selections have been based on color theories and yarn availablity in the past few years; for Megg, everything to do with colors is instinctive. I need to be open to my personal taste and make decisions based on gut feelings. Megg 1: Meg 0.

And speaking of theory/instincts, we've both tried different things in developing our creativity. I think I've written about slowing down, and letting ideas gestate, or waiting to receive inspirations. Megg, on the other hand, has a more proactive approach, where she's become a "developing ditzy". That'll make a great Exhibit title! Megg 2: Meg 0.

On the discussion of the art/craft continuum, Megg says, "Don't assume I didn't think about this," which beautifully summarizes one of the important steps all of us who "make things you can use" take. Of course we would like to put top priority on aesthetics, but if you can't use it, what we make is of no use to you, nor us. So sometimes we sacrifice the makers' aesthetic urges in preference to utility, practicality, and even longevity. Very well put. Megg 3: Meg 0.

Today has been a very tiresome day. The house next door is going on the market, and there have been some work going on in preparation. Today a huge air compressor (?) is sitting outside my studio making the loudest grunting noise all day since 8:30AM. I can't hear myself think, even though Bocelli has been serenading me at the top of his lungs all day to muffle the noise outside. I wanted a 92-end warp for a series of small cashmere scarves, and I need a few, so I'm making it a stripe in light and mid-grays, and I'm using my warping mill which gives me approximately 20 meters. I was wondering why it was taking so long, and why the wool was disappearing so fast. It took me a while to realize at some point I convinced myself I needed 180 ends. So tonight, we have to wind the warp, 92 ends going on the back beam, and the rest going into a separate warp chain. And I've simplified my problem so you'd get the gist of it.

Happy creating.

Mindblowing Ideas

The scarf belongs to Jay Farnsworth, created by Miranda Brown. From what I can tell, it was woven in twill, then dyed using shibori/tie-dye, (possibly the shibori design incorporated on the loom), and felted. This is light years away from my old-fashioned images of shibori; I was in awe.

I had another meeting with Megg Hewlett, but I have nothing concrete to report. We were throwing concepts, words, and vague images. Bliss.

Megg Hewlett and Colors

Last week, when I met with Megg Hewlett, we talked how a joint exhibit can have creative coherence, and discussed using similar colors. We grabbed a few balls of her yarns, and mixed and matched and tried to find a starting point, then she gave me samples of those colors. These are not her usual colors, but immediately she liked the combination, and I think she was already designing Bag 1 in her head. But it takes a long time for me to observe colors, combinations and proportions, and then to decide whether I like them or not. So for a week, I've been carrying them when I'm out, and they sit on the coffee table when I'm home.

Today, when I was photographing the first Christmas present scarf, these samples were sitting nearby. And after I shot the scarf, I was amazed how many of these sample colors were in my scarf. I mean, look.

I admire Megg for being so at ease with colors, and for her spontaneity. We're really going to have fun trying to build an exhibit together.

My Treasure

I was given this wool scarf for Christmas in 1961. I can't remember by whom, but most likely it was Jane McCoid, the most beautiful, fashionable person we knew then.

We had been in the US about four months. A week before Christmas, she visited us at home late in the afternoon, and stayed for a short time. She gave me our first ever Christmas present just before she left. (Back then, Christmas was a strictly religious occasion in Japan, and though about one-third on my mother's side is Catholic, we never exchanged gifts.) We knew the rules; we were supposed to put it under the Christmas tree until Christmas Eve, then open it. And we even had a Christmas tree; I don't remember if it was a tiny plastic one, or a big real one, but I do remember scouting the vicinity carefully in the days leading up to Christmas.

After she left, mom and I felt giddy staring at the beautifully wrapped, lonely present under the tree. Mom asked me, three or four times, if I wanted to open it. We hesitated a little, then tore the present open. I do remember being disappointed because it wasn't a toy, and told Mom she can have it, but not disappointed enough to take away the giddiness. And Mom wore it, lovingly, for a decade or two. Then, sometime in 80's or the 90's, she found it in her drawer somewhere, and asked me if I wanted it back. It's been mine ever since.

It is made of very fine wool but it's been washed and dry-cleaned several times, to say the least, and it has a coarse, scratchy feel, but the brightness and the Chrismtasy feeling is still there.

When we left Minnesota, I was five, and Jane McCoid gave me a single pearl on a silver chain; I still have that, too. And that's amazing, because over the years I've moved a few times, and ever time I moved I shed material possessions so I don't have many "things" from my childhood.

I still feel giddy remembering receiving our first Christmas present, and how naughty it felt to conspire with Mom and open it early.

My First Collapsed Weave

True story. My first floor loom was built by a doctor for his wife in the 60's or the 70's or the 80's in Waikato; the couple broke up, and though she was never wove again, for some reason, the Mrs took the dismantled loom every time she moved house. By the time I bought it, the loom had been stored, for over 10 years, under each house she lived.

It was an old-fashioned upright 4-shaft Jack designed for wool (and mostly handspun at that) so it wasn't particularly sturdy, and was prone to creek and move when I wove Swedish cottolin under high tension; I even got grooves from the cottolin in the breast beam to prove it, but I was too new to understand these things. It also had these flimsy wooden brakes (I can't really recall the exact mechanism now), but the breaks didn't really stop the warp from advancing completely, so the tension control was iffy at best.

For a US-based napkin/serviette exchange I signed up for in 1997, I put on a warp for 8 napkins/serviette, pale lavender, space/cram 10DPI/30DPI stripes in either plain weave or 2/2 twill. I was weaving my third serviette, and I was unhappy with the tension, so I advanced the warp just a wee bit, and pulled the tension as tightly as I could, and passed the shuttle (I only had stick shuttles from my rigid heddle loom back then), and beat hard, and BANG, the loom collapsed. I can't remember exactly what kind of shape it was in, but I could not weave on it.

A weaver friend came to have a look and said one word: "firewood", but I didn't have the heart to live without a floor loom, so I had Ben reassemble it, with the warp in tact, so at least it stood upright on its own, and stayed in the living room looking pretty until I borrowed a better one from the local polytech in 2001. After I started to weave on the borrowed loom, there was no way I was going back to the old loom, so Ben took it apart, and built a loom bench for me. I seem to recall having woven the remainder of the lavender warp, but I can't remember on which loom it was.

As for the real collapsed weave, I did two, wasn't interested in the textural variations, so that was the end of that. When the polytech sold off all the weaving equipment, in around 2004, I bought the previously-borrowed loom. I weave most of my cashmere on it, sitting on the ex-loom bench.

Edwin Sumun Photographs

©Edwin Sumun. Photograph posted with permission.

Eddie is a theater guy, an actor/producer?/director/teacher ?, as well as a semi-professional?? photographer. I have all these "?" marks because I've never met him, but surmise from his various photo blogs' posts.

He posts all kinds of photos, but I am hopelessly enamored by his people shots: theater mates and backstage, vendors on the streets, and friends' and family's babies. I suspect, either his keen interest in people visually led him to the theater, OR his life in the theater honed his skills in capturing faces and expressions so beautifully. Though, again, I've never asked him so I may be wrong.

I find this an interesting contrast to what I've done most of my life, which is to listen to people's speeches. Without intending to eavesdrop, I've enjoyed listening to people's voices, intonations, and pronunciations, as well as phrases and wit; I used to want to be a playwright. Although I can't remember the contents of conversations, sometimes I can recall a person's manner of speech quite vividly.

Here are some of Ed's photo blogs: Flickr, Kuala Lumpur Daily Photo (though sadly this is no longer posted daily), and Vision 20/20. For the best of his theater photos, see here, here, and here.

I Want to be a Good Weaver (Area Exhibit Opening Part 4)

It appears to me that in the past, the Best Use of Color award in the Area Exhibits have been awarded to colorful pieces, not necessarily ones demonstrating the makers' knowledge of color theory, which is what I thought was the aim of the award.

I think a lot of us thought another piece, a Kimono-style garment with three different handwoven fabrics, would win the top prize; I certainly thought so. But I'm still glad Colleen's installation won because it gave me a lot to think about.

Still, I shouldn't get so worked up by these openings and by others' works; I finally felt mildly sleepy at 1:45, but was up and thinking again before 5:30 this morning. And I have to give another speech at Toastmasters at 12 today, for which I'm ill-prepared.

But all in all, I think what I want the most is to be a good weaver. I don't know when/where this concept of me as an artist came up, (yes, I do; it's when I joined Arts Marketing and began being included in the category "artists", because I didn't belong to catetories educators, arts administrators, or art purchasers/gallerists. ) And, sure, I want to be able to make pieces that move viewers/wearers, but above all, I want to be a good weaver. "What's wrong with that?" Ben asked me last night. Absolutely nothing.

I'm remembering my humbler (at heart) days when I was tickled pink to just say the word "weaver" out loud, in private, of course. But then, you know me, I'm sure the pendulum will swing the other way again.

Oh, and the Toastmasters, for my Speech 3, I'm talking about Color-and-Weave and optical illusions, and I'm spreading the word for the Exhibit as well.

Arts Marketing Stapler

I still admire the combination of beauty/quirkiness/interest and utility.