"This is It", as the Man Said

January 31. I'm not sure what I achieved by photographing my lettuce patch for a month, but here we are, the end of the month.  No, I know; I did pretty up the patch considerably more than I would have if you weren't looking.

I was conscientious about taking and uploading pictures, but I'm not sure if I tried hard enough to look, observe or contemplate, in the design context.  I didn't emphasize with the lettuce leaves nor the patch, and I need that shared experience to elevate a relationship; I was always aware I was the master/caretaker and the patch there to service me, so that imbalance discouraged me from taking... the lettuce patch as a serious contender for design inspiration. I learned that much.  

This January we had more changeable weather than usual, I think, including two had-been tropical storms, and far more gusts for this time of year.  But then weather here, like everywhere else, has been changing markedly, so observing is all I do nowadays.  The patch, though, kept us in good supply of leaves, and I admit, this is the first year I made nice salads for lunch for one as well as for two at dinnertime.  And it'll keep giving, though in the left bottom quadrant, I'm sure two packets of seeds morphed into weeds. 

It's a new week and almost a new month and I'm looking forward to working today, though I'm not sure what I'll do: I could finish threading the orange and purple Log Cabin warp, design a commission baby blanket and make the warp, photograph pieces I've got on hand in preparation for Etsy, or hem the cashmere and alpaca scarves piling up on the couch. But no computers today; I overdid it for the Festival yesterday; the entire length of my short right arm, lower back, and eyes hurt. I think some lovely tactile time is needed.

Lettuces and 2012

Last Sunday night we lost the Internet and long story short, we only got it back yesterday afternoon.  So here are my lettuces.

January 24.

January 25 - we had changeable weather last week.  Some rain, some sun, lots of wind.  Elsewhere in New Zealand, the rain that caused havoc in Australia is doing the same, especially on the North Island.

January 26 - we spent the day, (belated yay to Australia Day) in Wellington looking at the Brian Brake photo exhibition at Te Papa.  Awesome photos from the days when photojournalism was star, some before television, all well before the Internet. He apprenticed in a portrait studio, which influenced his "staged" journalism, but still wonderful to see the era through pictures. 

January 27. A totally tired day of not doing anything at all.

January 28 - my parents' friends Ron and Elspeth were in Nelson for a wedding this weekend, so we did the first little bit of the Abel Tasman National Park walk (from Marahau to Tinline Bay) and laughed a lot and ate a lot together.

January 29. A totally tired day of not doing much.

January 30.

It was a good time to loose the connection as I got to weave more and now I have a few cashmeres needing hemming, wet finishing, tagging and recording so I can take them to galleries, as well as the new Log Cabin warp halfway on. I've also started to look into Etsy, at long last. (Desperately needing money is as good a motivation as I can think of.) In fact, I've been feeling great and working well, but that's for another post.

As soon as we regained the connection, I resumed work on something I volunteered for instead of being a member of Marlborough Weavers this year.  In April 2012, Marlborough Weavers' parent group Marlborough Creative Fibre Guild hosts the annual festival for the "national guild", (Creative Fibre, a.k.a. New Zealand Spinning, Weaving, and Wooldrafts Society, Inc., a.k.a. NZSWWS), and I'm setting up such things as a blog/website, Facebook fan page and Twitter.  There is a committee involved, so I have to explain how things work, and they have to discuss and make policy decisions before I can implement, but I'm shielded from the Committee madness and it's been an interesting experience so far albeit at times so slow.  I can delegate decisions and demand texts and photos, which makes the task easy in many ways, but I can't decide anything so everything is a waiting game, and I'm not good at that.  Anyhoo, I'm hoping Marlborough will bring the Festival belatedly to the new century a little bit, (especially the Society really wants more young members coming in) and if I can play a small part, that's great.  I'll put links and such once it's "live" but don't expect it to happen this side of April, to be honest.

In a way it's strange because not being a member of Marlborough Weavers this year means I'm not a member of NG, a.k.a. CF, a.k.a. NZSWWS either, but I'll get back on that loom bench in a year's time.  For now it's nice to have fewer people I have to confer with so I can concentrate on my own work. I will be updating Marlborough Weavers blog, though, whenever weavers send me stuff, so please drop by over there from time to time.

Strange Weather

January 23.  It's been windy so I watered the pots and the patch this morning.  That's why the taller leaves are bowing.  You can see my tiny bok choy in a tidy row, and broad beans on the side, but the two kinds of greens I planted at the top left, one being "easy to grow" endives, have not come out and I swear most of what's growing in that quarter of the patch is weeds.

We're traveling east to Blenheim today, to have a vineyard lunch, to pick up some work I sent for a small exhibition last November, and hopefully, to visit Win Currie.

* * * * *

I am experiencing a strange non-problem with my Artist's Way.  The weekly Artist's Date used to be the highlight of my Artist's Day week, but now almost all of my life is several strains of prolonged Artist's Date, which is wonderful, and I find it difficult to think of something new to do to to massage my right brain.  So I try something like collage or gazing or photography, but they feel more like "work".  I know this is a relatively easy problem to overcome, but I'm heading into Week Four, and I haven't done a proper Artist's Date yet, which feels so strange.

I've been a bit lazy on the walking front, however, and I feel guilty about that.  I think it comes down to laziness, but short walks around the airport yesterday allowed me to sleep well and feel rested this morning, so any fool knows if I did short ones every day and a long one once or twice a week, my life would be oh, so much healthier.

Lazy Saturday

January 22, just before a lazy weekend lunch. Right above me was what is called "Sun Dog"; never seen nor heard it before.

We did another walk around the airport this morning; actually we went less than halfway around and then turned back so did less than a round, but we got to see a few planes take off. We went to the butcher and the veggie shop, so now I'm ready for lunch. It's been a bit hot, though, so the leaves are tired; I shall give them a cold shower and a few minutes in the fridge. And after that, weaving, or something else.

Autum Approaching

January 21, getting ready for lunch.

It's been cooler for a couple of days, my favorite kind of mood, where Summer is having to admit it's not going to last forever. We both know we'll have another blast of heat come February, but I feel settled for now.

But this is the worst time of year for creatures stirring under the roof at night. I hadn't slept well for several nights so I took half a sleeping pill.  This morning I woke up rested but dazed, and have been floating in the house like a silly character from a ghost story.

I'm glad all the pots are still lined up against the retaining wall and the house; there's a bit of lovely wind blowing today; makes me think of my soul moving to a different place a la Chocolat.

I'm having an early lunch, them weaving the last red scarf, ready or not. I'd really like to get the loom ready for the next Log Cabin (or something like it) warp.

Reds, Purples, Grays, and Reds, and Lettuces

Last night I couldn't sleep so I took out the sewing silk sample card I bought when I was home a year ago.  Color samples make me feel good at the end of the day.  Do you do this, too?

This is a catalog more or less for the stores supplying home sewers and I'd imagine other "professionals" may keep on in their work room; it should represent pretty much most colors that meet the needs of today's consumers.  With that in mind, what I noticed was...

At the start of the list were White, Red and Black samples, (not numbered,) red being the old-fashioned orange-red sometimes referred to as "Shu".  (What we might consider the yellow-red and blue-red on the color wheel are at the end of the second row and the start of the third row, though they are not represented well in the top picture.)  So, some tradition survives. 

Children, at least of the 60's and 70's, used this red to draw the sun.  When I returned home to Japan at age 6, having lived in Tucson and visited at least one meteor crater, observing all other children including my cousins draw a great big red circle in the sky was most alarming; either these children had collectively experienced a catastrophe they did not wish to discuss, or they were prophesying one.  After a few months, Mom explained to me that in Japan, sun was generally drawn in that orange red, even though we all see the yellow sun.  That was my first experience with color and symbolism, though I still think she could have told me sooner.  

Next I noticed there were relatively few purple threads, compared to what I believe we live with, what we see in textiles and ceramics, in the flowers in gardens, and the names that remain in our vocabulary.  The most notable omission is the absence of the darkest blue purple we call "Nasu-kon" or Aubergine Navy Blue, one of my all time favorite colors.  Mom and I had noticed a decline in the use of Nasu-kon in the last decade or so.

Another thing I wasn't thrilled about was the small number of blues not influenced by yellow, compared to blues which were closer to, or in some cases outright, teal, particularly in the mid-to-dark range.

But fear not.  If you are a fan of grays, well, we have died and gone to heaven.  There are even more on the row above, with hints of yellows and browns.  Bliss.

* * * * * 

Yesterday I started my third scarf on the red warp using the dark brown-burgundy silk mix weft.  It's a most interesting color, you might even call it chocolate or hot cocoa; the scarf is very late-evening, very cloudy-rain, and very grown-up looking.  Not having woven one with blueish or purplish wefts, I was going to weave the last piece with a mid-blue-purple weft, pleasing enough on the sample.  Arter I put some cotton thrums through before I got started, I started contemplating greens again. Fortunately or unfortunately, I don't have cashmeres close to these cottons, so I'm back to carrying my tiny sample like a security blanket, pacing, wondering what to do.

* * * * *

After the red warp I'm going to put on the other log cabin warp; I actually made this warp first when I was thinking of log cabin; is has medium blue purple and the burnt/dirty orange used in the first scarf, and I made a warp in this combination because back then I thought purple and orange were complementary.

Using both the purple and orange in the weft in the last few pieces, I was taken aback every time I looked up because neither are boring colors, but in the warp chain they both look somewhat bleached out and unattractive, the orange in particular.

On my screen, this is pretty close to how the yarns appear in real life.  In the red sample the orange is richer and deeper, and the purple (used in the strip right above the orange) darker.  I am looking forward to a whopper of a sampling session for this warp.

The other consideration is the structure of log cabin; as much as I have enjoyed weaving the previous warp, it is, after all, a plain weave, so the vertical/horizontal changes occur across the length/width; the cloth is a series of squares and rectangles.  And because the loom I'm using has four shafts, I have been wondering if I can introduce some kind of a block element so I can stagger at least the horizontal changes.  But I'm only at a mental note-to-self stage.

* * * * *

January 20, just before lunch.  After I took this photo, I put down my camera and harvested mostly purple but some green leaves for lunch.

And Now for Something Completely Different...

What on earth was I thinking selecting a lettuce patch to observe for a whole month? Other than it was on my mind in late December; I was thinking I desperately needed to weed and tidy up so I can get my daily leaves on the cheap. And perhaps I wanted to observe something I would never normally select, something on a smaller scale and easy to focus and concentrate. And something about which I was in no thread of holding practical considerations, as in weeding.  So here it is.

January 19,  9.15PM.

There are a few colors, shapes and textures in my patch.  My eyes go straight to the purple lettuce leaves because that is what I like to eat.  On sunny mornings, the scent of basil distracts me.  And then the clovers because they are not supposed to be there.  I like the darker orange of the marigold, but I think it look lovelier when standing next to the yellower marigold, or above moist dark soil. 

I pay much attention to the tiny shoots coming along.  Rocket sprouts within days of sowing.  In the bottom right quadrant, bok choy (I think that's where I put them) are on their way.  Ben loves that we have green onions in the patch this year (first time) but there is his big footprint in the middle left, and there are seeds under it, too. Right under me, I did put in the second packet of broad beans, and they have come out.  I don't know if they will grow this late in the season, but I was particularly unsatisfied by the first lot so I'm hoping.  Broad bean sprouts are big and healthy and strong, nothing sprouty about them.  They look like embryonic leaves, (I think that's how I want to describe them) rather than "regular" sprouts that look totally different from the plants they will become. 

The soil is intriguing; after a few sunny windy days, it turns dry and lighter in color.  When I water, if the soil is very dry, the water won't go in straight away but sits on top and contemplates before allowed in.  Some evenings I think I soaked the patch well enough, but when I pick a few weeds the soil can be dry just under the surface.  And then other days, like today, after a good soak and then sun and wind, the surface will look dry, but under the surface the moisture still remains.

These are all things I learned in grade school, but a) I have to "live" it to relearn it, and b) because I am unsophisticated in my thinking, I am starting to develop a Pavlovian dislike for the color and texture of the dry soil.  I weeded a little bit at lunch time.

I love marigolds, but I only ever plant them around my veggie patch.  Next year, I might put them all over the place.  Cute, healthy and lovely smelling, I have no idea why I never thought of it as a "proper" flower.  

I found two pansies growing amongst the purple lettuces. :-)

A Day's Work

What do you do after a Big Bang Mojo day, when there's "storm" (and I use quotation marks with a most sarcastic of intentions) brewing outside?  Why, work in the basement, of course.

I tried not to expect the kind of high I felt on Monday again, because I would have been disappointed, so I tried to think.  Instead of moving on to other hues, I wanted to stick to the dirty orange range and I sampled with a) a dark burgundy with a bit of brown in silk/cash mix, b) a slightly dirtier orange, and c) Monday's dirty orange and said slightly dirtier orange used alternately.  I looked at the unfinished scarf, and the samples from near and far, with all available lights and with only a few of them. 

I still couldn't decide, so I brought down every single cone and ball of cashmere and silk/cashmere mix I own downstairs and sorted them.

In the end, because I can get three or four scarves from this warp, I went in another direction.  I wove with a mid/dark gray weft; this is the one where the value is so close to most of the reds in the warp that the reds almost disappear.  I'm not sure if I like it as a scarf, but the finished cloth, to me, has a look of the gray weft devouring the reds.

(The bottom gray.)  And how have I come to own so many pink cones??

Oh, I thought I'd shoot the lettuce around dusk for a change.

Where is the Storm??

January 18.  As of 111 minutes ago we were supposed to be hit by two previously-named-but-subsequently-downgraded tropical storms. We lined up the flower pots against the house and turned the outside tables upside-down last night, but so far, though, we've had lovely steady rain.

Having waxed lyrical about habits in yesterday's post, my real concern is I'm not observing nor contemplating about the lettuce patch beyond what needs doing and what is ready to eat.  I'm not looking at it the "right" way, and I'm not sure how to.

Ali the Mentor is moving out of Nelson, a good friend's father passed away, and though neither surprised me, it's still sad.  Two super good friends who were a couple decided to go their separate ways, though they are cool, modern people who will remain great friends and we can have them over together or separately.  And my friend Liz's dog died of a heart failure at age 14.  A lot of things are changing around me.

* * * * *

I've heard from several of you in the last few weeks you could not leave comments. I've had problems, too: mine is usually "comment is too long, could not post" and then when I check back, they're there.  I'll keep modifying the setting to see if the situation improves. I love and appreciate your comments, (no need to mention "lettuce", either,) so please keep trying.  Otherwise, I get that paranoid-about-talking-really-loudly-in-a-great-big-stone-structure-hall-and-hearing-only-the-echoes-of-my-voice thing, you know.

* * * * *

Having gotten my mojo back yesterday, I'm wondering how to keep it and nurture it, and retrieve it more quickly when I loose it.  Yesterday I felt elated, today I feel contended; it's more a confidence thing, a vindication from within.  Or it was possibly just adrenaline.

I have been thinking a lot about color combinations, though not exactly thinking as I know how, but more questions and observations running in the back of my mind almost constantly.  I've had the Lambert tome under my bed for a few weeks, but I haven't opened it yet because, for now, I want to savor the-cloth-color-being-different-from-the-sum-of-colors-used mystery; I'll delve into simultaneous contrast and the like later.

Mom often says "colors are 'mamono'."  Now this is a very hard word to translate: it could be a demon, a ghost, or any variety of supernatural being, or extreme (and often deviant) characteristics in some humans, but what's common in all things "mamono" is they are unknowable/unexplainable, or more like unwise to investigate lest you open a Pandora's universe, if you get my drift.

I like to think colors are slightly mysterious but more in a fairy's world and less, one might say, sinister.  Not that my mother fears colors or experimenting with them.  And she is a prolific hit-or-miss dyer.  I like the idea of floating and traveling between different worlds of colors.

I think I need a good graphic designer or illustrator to draw me a winged hippo now.

Mojo has Returned

Oh, what the heck, you don't need my usual long-winded explanation.  I just went ahead with the burnt/dirty orange weft, and I put on a Joe Cocker CD and all doubts disappeared.  This is going to be one heck of a grown-up scarf with a OTP name like "You can Leave your Hat On" or "You Give Me Reason to Live".  It's been a WHILLLLLLE, folks!

Sometimes it's so simple.