A couple of good weavers I know have recently received their first commissions. I'm so happy for them, and I know they will do well.
Congrats, and enjoy the making. (And well-done to the clients with good taste!) I hope you blog about the projects, too!
2012/05/31
More Misc Thoughts
Sometimes it takes me a long time to allow myself to change my mind, but once I do, I'm apparently very fast to move on. The current purple and green scarf is super quick to weave; I've done 130 cm in two sittings, and will finish it tomorrow. (I could finish today, but then I might want to cut off my arms tonight, so I'm going easy.) Three days to weave a piece has been one of the quickest in recent years, and I'm pleased about that. The rapid changes/movement in the pattern helps, too, as do one-shuttle weaving! But the design feels so mechanical, and I'm not in love with the piece. In fact, I'm back to feeling rather detached and wishing this would find a good home, fast. I have started to want something more "human" in my cloth, whatever I mean by it.
* * * * *
I've been coveting three books, but haven't bought them because a) they are expensive, b) I don't know if I will enjoy reading them and/or use the knowledge gained in my work, and c) I just paid for a Symposium because it's right here in Nelson. As regards the three books, the cheapest I found was from The Book Depository (who ships free worldwide) at NZ$104, OR, Amazon in England for NZ$84 plus NZ$29 for shipping. Ouch! I haven't checked the possibility of buying them from different places - too much math!
Anyhoo, I have read some reviews of one of them, but I'd love to hear whatever you thought of any of these if you have them, or if you've seen them in libraries or guilds. Please, please, please tell me anything, however trivial or quirky. (And remember to bring out the violins for those of us who live in small towns without big bookshops or libraries!)
Folding Techniques for Designers - this one I saw in Wellington but the prices at two different bookshops were approximately double The Book Depository price and I was unwilling to pay that much. I wasn't sure if I would ever read it, but I sure enjoyed the diagrams.
Magical Materials to Weave - I'm interested if she discusses fibers other than wool; I assume she does and I'm wondering if they are things I can buy here, or via the Internet
Weaving Textile that Shape Themselves - Ditto, I guess.
* * * * *
We recently switch all our phone services from the default Telecom to our ISP, which doubled our bandwidth, which finally allowed me to see Randy, Brian and others. Up to dressing the loom is half the work, weavers. I've watched it three time so far and I'm in dreamland every time, but it's time to listen to what they say and learn. Other artists are, of course, just as wonderful, but R&B are special, folks!
* * * * *
I've been coveting three books, but haven't bought them because a) they are expensive, b) I don't know if I will enjoy reading them and/or use the knowledge gained in my work, and c) I just paid for a Symposium because it's right here in Nelson. As regards the three books, the cheapest I found was from The Book Depository (who ships free worldwide) at NZ$104, OR, Amazon in England for NZ$84 plus NZ$29 for shipping. Ouch! I haven't checked the possibility of buying them from different places - too much math!
Anyhoo, I have read some reviews of one of them, but I'd love to hear whatever you thought of any of these if you have them, or if you've seen them in libraries or guilds. Please, please, please tell me anything, however trivial or quirky. (And remember to bring out the violins for those of us who live in small towns without big bookshops or libraries!)
Folding Techniques for Designers - this one I saw in Wellington but the prices at two different bookshops were approximately double The Book Depository price and I was unwilling to pay that much. I wasn't sure if I would ever read it, but I sure enjoyed the diagrams.
Magical Materials to Weave - I'm interested if she discusses fibers other than wool; I assume she does and I'm wondering if they are things I can buy here, or via the Internet
Weaving Textile that Shape Themselves - Ditto, I guess.
* * * * *
We recently switch all our phone services from the default Telecom to our ISP, which doubled our bandwidth, which finally allowed me to see Randy, Brian and others. Up to dressing the loom is half the work, weavers. I've watched it three time so far and I'm in dreamland every time, but it's time to listen to what they say and learn. Other artists are, of course, just as wonderful, but R&B are special, folks!
Misc Thoughts
Group R, which is set to change its name, met this Monday. I'm glad I stuck around because after three horrible (for me) meetings, I had a productive, meaningful one. Not sure what others thought, but I hope they were glad. Pat and Jo are moving in unexpected directions, Ronnie keeps coming up with new ones, and Maria, oh, Maria was sewing a mock up as we spoke, after being unsure of one she did a few days ago. I love watching people work. I haven't changed my plans per se, but I had a breakthrough, a cleansing and letting-go experience, because of our conversation and the company. So much so that though not directly related, on Tuesday morning I played with diluted gesso, store-bought stencils and cereal boxes.
The gesso et al. is due to signing up to Carla Sonheim's Junk Mail Artist Book online course. (The one course she offers I never thought I'd ever sign up for even if it was free!) On the day NZ$ was behaving badly. (It's come back up some more since.) But never mind, I find Carla's videos and instructions soothing and encouraging.
When I was still in Japan, Group R discussed Keri Smith's books/methods of pushing oneself to go beyond one's preconceived boundaries. I love the concept but I still cringe at some of the more "violent" suggestions. I'm conservative like that; I can't deface a perfectly good map, (especially if it's an old one,) or destroy a good book to create something else. But Carla's nudges I can take, even if sometimes I have to view/read, think, contemplate, take a walk, have a nap, and decide to trust Carla not to lead me astray. It helps that many of her suggestions are the same as/similar to what we did in Ronette's drawing course.
I got the 2013 Sketchbook Project sketchbook in the mail. It's new and improved: the pages are slightly fatter/squarer, there is no perforation line on the left side, and the cover is an ordinary brown cardboard. I can't remember how the 2011 one was bound, but I don't think it was with just two staples; they assume many participants want to reconstruct/reconstruct and this will be super easy. Overall, it feels more naked and in need of a lot more TLC. I haven't done anything with it, and I hope magic markers won't bleed, but everything looks good.
Last night I got a whole lotta linen from Mette, and I now have a plan for my "Friendship" piece; I haven't worked our anything specific/practical, but I like my idea. Hummm.... What am I saying? I love my idea.
I took off the navy blue cashmere warp from the last post; I'm not putting it on the warping board one end at a time. I think I did more damage to it rewinding, so I'm going to put it back in a chain, and we're having time out from each other. On the big loom is the purple warp, and I started weaving yesterday. It seems to me this style of wavy/swirly networked twill has been done to death, but I've never done an asymmetrical one so I thought it's a good idea for a short warp.
The first is a wood-grain design; I love the way the color of the cloth changes depending on where I stand. In fact, I took Ben for a walk around the loom last night.
A bit of both. The color in the first two pics are pretty accurate on my monitor.
When I'm weaving, the cloth is even greener than this.
Though this is a blurred pic and the colors off, do you get the sense that from slightly to the back of the beater, the green almost disappears and I can only see bumps of the design.
To my shock horror, I discovered this olive green color has been discontinued in 20/2 width; it's a color I don't much like on its own but discovered in the "Prayers" and the subsequent warps that it does wonders in combinations particularly with purples, pinks and reds. Oh, bother! There is a slightly whiter, slightly yellower green, so I'd have to switch to that eventually.
The second (and last on this warp) maybe be a more bubble-like design.
After these two, I'm dying to put on the last, short, hot pink warp, but I think it's high time the "pillars" warp went on. Before Monday, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to do the October exhibition with the group on account of my feeling so bad after the last meetings; I also contemplated asking the group if I could skip the meetings but just exhibit, (on account of the size of the gallery and mine being among the bigger pieces planned,) but I'm ready to commit to the exhibition this week, and to "sacrifice" the big loom to 20 meters of dusty gray warp. I'm allowing a blindingly colorful Log Cabin warp to go on the four-shaft, though, and will proceed concurrently. At least that's the plan.
When I was still in Japan, Group R discussed Keri Smith's books/methods of pushing oneself to go beyond one's preconceived boundaries. I love the concept but I still cringe at some of the more "violent" suggestions. I'm conservative like that; I can't deface a perfectly good map, (especially if it's an old one,) or destroy a good book to create something else. But Carla's nudges I can take, even if sometimes I have to view/read, think, contemplate, take a walk, have a nap, and decide to trust Carla not to lead me astray. It helps that many of her suggestions are the same as/similar to what we did in Ronette's drawing course.
I took off the navy blue cashmere warp from the last post; I'm not putting it on the warping board one end at a time. I think I did more damage to it rewinding, so I'm going to put it back in a chain, and we're having time out from each other. On the big loom is the purple warp, and I started weaving yesterday. It seems to me this style of wavy/swirly networked twill has been done to death, but I've never done an asymmetrical one so I thought it's a good idea for a short warp.
The first is a wood-grain design; I love the way the color of the cloth changes depending on where I stand. In fact, I took Ben for a walk around the loom last night.
To my shock horror, I discovered this olive green color has been discontinued in 20/2 width; it's a color I don't much like on its own but discovered in the "Prayers" and the subsequent warps that it does wonders in combinations particularly with purples, pinks and reds. Oh, bother! There is a slightly whiter, slightly yellower green, so I'd have to switch to that eventually.
After these two, I'm dying to put on the last, short, hot pink warp, but I think it's high time the "pillars" warp went on. Before Monday, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to do the October exhibition with the group on account of my feeling so bad after the last meetings; I also contemplated asking the group if I could skip the meetings but just exhibit, (on account of the size of the gallery and mine being among the bigger pieces planned,) but I'm ready to commit to the exhibition this week, and to "sacrifice" the big loom to 20 meters of dusty gray warp. I'm allowing a blindingly colorful Log Cabin warp to go on the four-shaft, though, and will proceed concurrently. At least that's the plan.
2012/05/22
Channeling Randy
By the way have you been able to watch the Craft in America vid? I get as far as the first Quilt Maker (I think) talk about her grandfather, but no further; I only know Randy doesn't do plaids. Because he's a Romantic. These folks were supposed to keep me company while I worked on the navy warp.
Do I have to go to a larger city with better Internet connection?
Santa Fe Revisited
Even though we've established I don't shy away from issues once I decide which ones I'm tackling, (even if it takes long to write/publish,) especially if there is a chance for me to learn/improve, this has been a difficult one to share.
On Friday, May 4, Pat came-a-visiting with a friend, Jill. Who happens to be Jill Hoppenheimer. Of Santa Fe Weaving Gallery. You remember Pat has always encouraged me in this direction. I don't exactly know where SFWG stands in the grand scheme of things, but knowing they stocked Randy''s scarves, I remember never being able to say the name of the gallery out loud four years ago, not did I feel bad I didn't make it in back then.
We had a robust discussion on colors and the relationships of places with colors. (One of my absolute fav subject!) I took notes, but you know how notes on robust discussions go: cryptic. The upshot of all this is, she took two of my pieces and requested eight.
Sure, I am happy; finally an outlet outside Nelson, New Zealand, population 50,000. Some of my stuff are going to be in the same physical space as The August One's. But I've been so overwhelmed I haven't had the time to enjoy it.
In the first instance, I don't know how I'm going to fit the various projects on my calendar; I've discovered a local selling opportunity for which I only need perhaps three would love to take part in if I can manage; if I were quicker there was yet another opportunity but I've let that one go. And with some gardening and the recent too-early cold spell, my left arm is making a fuss.But what really worries me and keeps me procrastinating is my lack of technical competence; it makes me want to crawl back into bed some days, or see my imaginary ulcer (always in glowing green) if I'm already there.
So I try not to think of it and carry on. Strange, when none of the projects are urgent, I have a harder time prioritizing. You'd think I'd enjoy such luxury.
Please forgive me for disabling comments on this post; it's still difficult to talk about. But not for long long; I get less emotional once I start thinking of colors and materials and structures and such.
And now for something completely pleasant, click here! I don't know if I wrote this before, but at the end of the workshop in 2006, I half-wished Randy and Brian would decide to adopt me and take me away from my life. Seriously. I was going to send for my things later, including B.
On Friday, May 4, Pat came-a-visiting with a friend, Jill. Who happens to be Jill Hoppenheimer. Of Santa Fe Weaving Gallery. You remember Pat has always encouraged me in this direction. I don't exactly know where SFWG stands in the grand scheme of things, but knowing they stocked Randy''s scarves, I remember never being able to say the name of the gallery out loud four years ago, not did I feel bad I didn't make it in back then.
We had a robust discussion on colors and the relationships of places with colors. (One of my absolute fav subject!) I took notes, but you know how notes on robust discussions go: cryptic. The upshot of all this is, she took two of my pieces and requested eight.
Sure, I am happy; finally an outlet outside Nelson, New Zealand, population 50,000. Some of my stuff are going to be in the same physical space as The August One's. But I've been so overwhelmed I haven't had the time to enjoy it.
In the first instance, I don't know how I'm going to fit the various projects on my calendar; I've discovered a local selling opportunity for which I only need perhaps three would love to take part in if I can manage; if I were quicker there was yet another opportunity but I've let that one go. And with some gardening and the recent too-early cold spell, my left arm is making a fuss.But what really worries me and keeps me procrastinating is my lack of technical competence; it makes me want to crawl back into bed some days, or see my imaginary ulcer (always in glowing green) if I'm already there.
So I try not to think of it and carry on. Strange, when none of the projects are urgent, I have a harder time prioritizing. You'd think I'd enjoy such luxury.
Please forgive me for disabling comments on this post; it's still difficult to talk about. But not for long long; I get less emotional once I start thinking of colors and materials and structures and such.
And now for something completely pleasant, click here! I don't know if I wrote this before, but at the end of the workshop in 2006, I half-wished Randy and Brian would decide to adopt me and take me away from my life. Seriously. I was going to send for my things later, including B.
"Important" to Whom??
Good post by Connie Rose, again. I love reading about how she thinks and approaches her creative life.
I have a different view. I think and talk and write and read about and search visuals of weaving pretty much non-stop. (As if you hadn't noticed...) This is all-too-often interpreted as wanting public recognition/validation. (I hate seeing knowing nods, especially by teachers who should know better!! I've got to learn to phrase my questions better.) I'm only looking for discussions about weaving, if not textiles. Or garments. Or fashion, to a lesser degree. Or exhibitions. Of any kind. Or other art forms and makers. I also like to discuss how I can improve my work; suggestions of practical methods most appreciated.
My goal so far and in the foreseeable future has always been and is to impress myself; I'm not worried about the world just yet because I haven't made something you, ummm, should be impressed with. (Perhaps this is why I'm suspicious of compliments.) My immediate problem is, I don't know what will impress me, except without technical improvements in the first instance, it ain't gonna happen.
So then, like Connie says, I've got to let go and see what whatever/whoever takes me take me wherever, perhaps, but that's so hard for a control freak.
I have a different view. I think and talk and write and read about and search visuals of weaving pretty much non-stop. (As if you hadn't noticed...) This is all-too-often interpreted as wanting public recognition/validation. (I hate seeing knowing nods, especially by teachers who should know better!! I've got to learn to phrase my questions better.) I'm only looking for discussions about weaving, if not textiles. Or garments. Or fashion, to a lesser degree. Or exhibitions. Of any kind. Or other art forms and makers. I also like to discuss how I can improve my work; suggestions of practical methods most appreciated.
My goal so far and in the foreseeable future has always been and is to impress myself; I'm not worried about the world just yet because I haven't made something you, ummm, should be impressed with. (Perhaps this is why I'm suspicious of compliments.) My immediate problem is, I don't know what will impress me, except without technical improvements in the first instance, it ain't gonna happen.
So then, like Connie says, I've got to let go and see what whatever/whoever takes me take me wherever, perhaps, but that's so hard for a control freak.
2012/05/21
Aging is...
2012/05/19
"Pillars" Sampling
Samples: I tried scanning rather than photographing. Hope it works for you.
First sample: the top shows warp and weft yarns as I intended. LOVE the result, but it'd be slow weaving; the bottom part, I grabbed a leftover which looked more like the size I should use; love the result but I only have about 10 meters of it and have no idea where it came from; it's another one of those I had for ever.
Sample 2, top part: trying out different wefts in grays, blacks and undyed, yarns of which I have sufficient amounts; disliked blacks immediately and irrationally; realized once again I don't have too much fat yarns so have started twining what I've got.
Sample 2, bottom: started also combining mohair for texture. As long as structurally safe, I should go for big floats so the design can be seen from some distance.
Sample 3: calculated my intended warp and weft yarns aren't enough for either purpose so decided to combine and used them both in the warp, and thus inserted in the sample warp. Experimenting with mixing mohair in the weft for luster but not really liking it because mine is a mohair/merino mix that doesn't shrink so if I ply this with yarns that shrink, my pillars will be hopelessly wrinkled! The bottom portion uses a fat, uneven but with-scale wool available from DEA Yarns. I rejected this because it's dark and has too much brown and they discontinued the lovely pale gray mix, and the design will come out warped, (which could be interesting, but in the first instance, so not to my taste,) but may reconsider. (See Arrangement below.) I also wanted to "do" the October exhibition without buying any more new yarns; this weft won't be cheap for something I can't wear or give away easily, which makes me reluctant to invest $.
Sample 4, top part: experimenting with mixed-with-mohair wefts and different size floats.
Sample 4, bottom part: ditto, and pretty much settled on two-part merino/mohair mix and one part unknown stiff undyed wool; in this combination the two parts of the mohair mix insists the weft not shrink, so if I can make the cloth satisfactorily flat in further sampling, I have plenty of these yarns. Further experimentation to be conducted on the big loom in the real width.
Arrangement: I never thought of putting these pillars in anything but a straight line, more or less parallel to one of the walls; in fact I was ever so pleased with myself when I realized I could put them in a straight line not parallel to the walls just recently. Lloyd suggested considering a circle (or a pentagon), while Ben suggested an arc, and both are do-able; both would make clearer which side is A-side vs which is B of the cloth, if there is to be such a distinction. Lloyd also suggested considering putting real stones/rocks under the pieces, and the easiest-to-handle and cheapest was the bits that come off of sculptures in Oamaru Stone. Luckily we have a mutual friend who works with these and I could probably ask her to save her offcuts (??)m but then my problem then is, for the most part Oamaru Stones come in creamy whites whereas I'd had hoped to go with almost hue-less grays and whites. The gray/brown weft in Sample 3 would create easier visual link. Or, I could arrange the Oamaru Stones and then spray them white! So now I need to investigate real stones!
Issue: I've proceeded with my plans so that I can weave it relatively quickly. And not in 20/2 cottons which I had in mind until I started to put numbers to my pictures. I like fine weaving and I'd like to imagine that's my thing, but I've been wondering what kind of an image I want to project about me through this project, or more truthfully, how I will see myself when I see these monsters hung and lit. Do I want to show/see I can do bold, or continue with fine/fussy but enlarge the scale? I keep picturing variations of the latter as they bring me pleasure while I continue to convince myself "bold" is worth sampling; no harm in being able to do bold and fussy.
Shortly after I finished the fourth sample, I learned The Flight exhibition was to open in 11 days so stopped work as if there was something similar, I still had time to change my plans. (Nelson is a small place and the number of textile afficionados limited, so I didn't want anything of mine resembling anything in their exhibition.) But there was nothing like gray, pillar-like or earth-quake/financial-crisis/Greece-inspired (??) work so I can proceed as planned. I'm still am baffled there will be four, four!, textile exhibitions at the Refinery in a twelve-month period!
My perpetual question remains: how far into "art" do I want to venture vs how much "cloth without concepts" do I want to hold on to. And the more I kick this question around, the more I feel it's inevitable this should be my final blog post (or whatever the equivalent,) which I'll be posting the day I hang up my shuttles, turn off the light and quit weaving. There doesn't seem to be much point in having a "premise" just now and binding myself to it when there is a world of possibilities out there. And I still have a few decades left, (she says hopefully), of weaving.
And I can't believe my mind/viewpoint has changed so completely without me noticing. But then Shania warned us a decade ago, didn't she? Better get off the computer before my arms fall off, but I promise the next post I'm planning is a light read.
Arrangement: I never thought of putting these pillars in anything but a straight line, more or less parallel to one of the walls; in fact I was ever so pleased with myself when I realized I could put them in a straight line not parallel to the walls just recently. Lloyd suggested considering a circle (or a pentagon), while Ben suggested an arc, and both are do-able; both would make clearer which side is A-side vs which is B of the cloth, if there is to be such a distinction. Lloyd also suggested considering putting real stones/rocks under the pieces, and the easiest-to-handle and cheapest was the bits that come off of sculptures in Oamaru Stone. Luckily we have a mutual friend who works with these and I could probably ask her to save her offcuts (??)m but then my problem then is, for the most part Oamaru Stones come in creamy whites whereas I'd had hoped to go with almost hue-less grays and whites. The gray/brown weft in Sample 3 would create easier visual link. Or, I could arrange the Oamaru Stones and then spray them white! So now I need to investigate real stones!
Issue: I've proceeded with my plans so that I can weave it relatively quickly. And not in 20/2 cottons which I had in mind until I started to put numbers to my pictures. I like fine weaving and I'd like to imagine that's my thing, but I've been wondering what kind of an image I want to project about me through this project, or more truthfully, how I will see myself when I see these monsters hung and lit. Do I want to show/see I can do bold, or continue with fine/fussy but enlarge the scale? I keep picturing variations of the latter as they bring me pleasure while I continue to convince myself "bold" is worth sampling; no harm in being able to do bold and fussy.
Shortly after I finished the fourth sample, I learned The Flight exhibition was to open in 11 days so stopped work as if there was something similar, I still had time to change my plans. (Nelson is a small place and the number of textile afficionados limited, so I didn't want anything of mine resembling anything in their exhibition.) But there was nothing like gray, pillar-like or earth-quake/financial-crisis/Greece-inspired (??) work so I can proceed as planned. I'm still am baffled there will be four, four!, textile exhibitions at the Refinery in a twelve-month period!
My perpetual question remains: how far into "art" do I want to venture vs how much "cloth without concepts" do I want to hold on to. And the more I kick this question around, the more I feel it's inevitable this should be my final blog post (or whatever the equivalent,) which I'll be posting the day I hang up my shuttles, turn off the light and quit weaving. There doesn't seem to be much point in having a "premise" just now and binding myself to it when there is a world of possibilities out there. And I still have a few decades left, (she says hopefully), of weaving.
And I can't believe my mind/viewpoint has changed so completely without me noticing. But then Shania warned us a decade ago, didn't she? Better get off the computer before my arms fall off, but I promise the next post I'm planning is a light read.
1H0512-Part 3: Changing Taste
This one crept up entirely unsuspected that I was gob-smacked in the last week or so since I came face to face with the discovery. Know, in this post and elsewhere, I want to point out the changes in my taste/opinion; I'm not saying something is right/good and others are wrong/bad.
At dinner two Sundays ago, I was "asked" by someone who really knows her stuff if I like a weaver's work. I say "asked" because as near as I can remember, it was something like, "Don't you just love her work? She is such an excellent weaver and her colors are beautiful. Don't you love her pieces?" I couldn't say no because I love the person who asked me, so I commented on the weaver's equipment.
I was never a fan of her colors, but I admired her techniques, productivity and enthusiasm greatly. I spent years wanting to weave the sort of stuff she wove, (not exactly the same aesthetics, but you get the gist,) and studied her work closely whenever I could. She owns the biggest, mostest and meanest weaving machines, and travels around the world attending workshops and conferences. In spite of all that, this year at the National Exhibition, I found her work clinical, impersonal and vacant. Technically they were great as usual, colors, like I said, never did me much, but I was so taken aback because I went entirely ready to be awed. To be floored.
I can't explain why they appeared so vacant to me. The issue could be, I could well imagine the weaver combating the mathematical possibilities of a design and concluding this, or that, or both, design is weavable. (My conjecture, you understand.) Another explanation was, I couldn't see a living human wearing it, whereas with most woven works, whether I like them or not, I can easily construct a visual picture of a living human being adorned in the cloths. I always picture different kind of people wearing my stuff in different places/occasions as I design and weave and finish the stuff, unless it's a commission and I know the person who will wear/use it. I mean, vivid and concrete pictures even of people I don't know or never seen/met in places I've never been to or know. Do you?
The funny thing is, I always thought I wanted to weave technically well-constructed, impersonal cloths, impersonal being a rather important thing for me. I aspired to weave like a machine. But last month, when faced with this weaver's work, I didn't like what I saw. And in spite of some technical glitches, I much preferred pieces with a more personal feel, ones where I could imagine humans wearing and breathing in them. You understand this was my reaction, and I should ask other weavers/visitors what they thought, because they might have felt the weaver's feelings, intentions, whatever-else come through, and that's wonderful. So it's official; I now like cloths where I feel something of the maker is included in it. But how do I feel about what I make? What kind of cloth do I want to make? Well, the jury is out on fishing this weekend.
I can't decide if this is related, but I'm approaching the end of Carla Sonheim's Faces 101; I'm taking all the time in the world and doing extras where I feel like it. Carla's courses give me a bit of Stockholm Syndrome, and I started looking at what I might consider doing next, and the one I'm most interested in this week is one of the two I felt "not in a million years" only half a year ago when I discovered her courses: Junk Mail Artist's Book! I am ever so keen on it, though perhaps not right now. I have to keep my eye on the.. now what did Lynne tell me... brass ring, that is the October exhibition, and my Sketchbook Project 2013 sketchbook arrived at long last.
EDIT: said weaver told me some years ago s/he prefers "weaver" over "artist" and "workshop" over "studio" so s/he knows what s/he's doing. Again, I stress, it's about my changing taste.
* * * * *
This is related, I'm pretty sure, but don't know how. Again, I stress these are my opinions and changing tastes/view points, not about right/good/wrong/bad.
There is another weaving exhibition at the Refinery, by a group called Professional Weavers Network. (Goodness, on a bad year Changing Threads is the only textile exhibition, but between October 2011 and 2012 there are four that I know of!) Dianne has shared her experiences at their do this year here, but to me, PWN reminds me of Yakuza; I know they're there, I even know some who belong, but I don't know much about what they do until they strike out in public, like an exhibition in Nelson or Blenheim.
Anyhoo, I took some shots with permission from Refinery; I also have permission to post here. The theme is "Flight".
I don't know how they work, and I believe they position their exhibition as a "weaving" exhibition rather than (textile) "art", so you know this. What I saw were either pictorial portrayal of things that fly, either in 2D or 3D, or work with nothing to do with flight per se but in the name/color or other gimmicks to force association. One exception was the metal piece in the top picture, which exudes flight to me, but puzzled Roger who asked what it had to do with weaving. (As you might have guessed, the metal pieces are woven as wefts and about an inch at the center is weaving as we/he know/s it.) Many pieces were exquisitely crafted; some, the weaving was good but the assembly/setup was disappointing, and one should never call something an installation if it is not site-specific; it's a decoration or objet d'art if it wasn't constructed for this exhibition in this gallery in the first instance. (See, I'm learning.)
As an exhibition, this to me looked sad; too few pieces in a big gallery, and to use the two of three partitions to make the room smaller. The use of space made me think of a school exhibition in a gymnasium. One piece at the entrance, just above your head of the entry way, was too easily missed; I saw it for the first on the third time I exited the gallery. Roger was happy with the exhibition, but surely, surely, there would have been ways to bring together works with disparate interpretations of the subject/title. The saddest part for me was unless you were already interested in textiles, weaving, and/or techniques, the overall feel of the exhibition didn't exude joy or pleasure, which I associate with flight, nor did it provoke closer scrutiny of individual pieces. And many were worthy of it.
I don't know the circumstances around the installation or who hung it, but I'm not bitching and denigrating someone else's exhibition. I keep pondering what I would have done if I was responsible, four points come to mind:
1) I would have used the partitions to create areas so the middle of the exhibition isn't left so empty;
2) I would have not hung everything that's meant to be hung on the wall, on the wall, but off-set some to create breathing space and if the visitor so desired, could see the back of the work;
3) I would not have concentrated so many works near the entrance. (Sorry, not photographed.) So something is small, you can create drama hanging one small piece in a big area, rather than cluster smallish things together;
And finally 4) pay attention to hight when hanging from above. This is a difficult one for me and I have to see to know if something looks right. I like exhibitions that take advantage of the height of the venue on the one hand, but if a piece is too high and hard to see, as at least two were too high for Ben and he didn't notice the one at the entrance, those work are lost to the exhibition.
And for goodness sakes, if light is an important component of a work and you could be bothered to put a light inside it, let's put the work in a dark area so the intended illumination shows up, eh. People were puzzled about this one, I can tell you.
But these are just thoughts that came to me in the last couple of days, and even I can never know unless I install and see for myself. I'll most likely revisit this exhibition before it closes in two weeks; then it's going to Wellington if you are interested.
At dinner two Sundays ago, I was "asked" by someone who really knows her stuff if I like a weaver's work. I say "asked" because as near as I can remember, it was something like, "Don't you just love her work? She is such an excellent weaver and her colors are beautiful. Don't you love her pieces?" I couldn't say no because I love the person who asked me, so I commented on the weaver's equipment.
I was never a fan of her colors, but I admired her techniques, productivity and enthusiasm greatly. I spent years wanting to weave the sort of stuff she wove, (not exactly the same aesthetics, but you get the gist,) and studied her work closely whenever I could. She owns the biggest, mostest and meanest weaving machines, and travels around the world attending workshops and conferences. In spite of all that, this year at the National Exhibition, I found her work clinical, impersonal and vacant. Technically they were great as usual, colors, like I said, never did me much, but I was so taken aback because I went entirely ready to be awed. To be floored.
I can't explain why they appeared so vacant to me. The issue could be, I could well imagine the weaver combating the mathematical possibilities of a design and concluding this, or that, or both, design is weavable. (My conjecture, you understand.) Another explanation was, I couldn't see a living human wearing it, whereas with most woven works, whether I like them or not, I can easily construct a visual picture of a living human being adorned in the cloths. I always picture different kind of people wearing my stuff in different places/occasions as I design and weave and finish the stuff, unless it's a commission and I know the person who will wear/use it. I mean, vivid and concrete pictures even of people I don't know or never seen/met in places I've never been to or know. Do you?
The funny thing is, I always thought I wanted to weave technically well-constructed, impersonal cloths, impersonal being a rather important thing for me. I aspired to weave like a machine. But last month, when faced with this weaver's work, I didn't like what I saw. And in spite of some technical glitches, I much preferred pieces with a more personal feel, ones where I could imagine humans wearing and breathing in them. You understand this was my reaction, and I should ask other weavers/visitors what they thought, because they might have felt the weaver's feelings, intentions, whatever-else come through, and that's wonderful. So it's official; I now like cloths where I feel something of the maker is included in it. But how do I feel about what I make? What kind of cloth do I want to make? Well, the jury is out on fishing this weekend.
I can't decide if this is related, but I'm approaching the end of Carla Sonheim's Faces 101; I'm taking all the time in the world and doing extras where I feel like it. Carla's courses give me a bit of Stockholm Syndrome, and I started looking at what I might consider doing next, and the one I'm most interested in this week is one of the two I felt "not in a million years" only half a year ago when I discovered her courses: Junk Mail Artist's Book! I am ever so keen on it, though perhaps not right now. I have to keep my eye on the.. now what did Lynne tell me... brass ring, that is the October exhibition, and my Sketchbook Project 2013 sketchbook arrived at long last.
EDIT: said weaver told me some years ago s/he prefers "weaver" over "artist" and "workshop" over "studio" so s/he knows what s/he's doing. Again, I stress, it's about my changing taste.
* * * * *
This is related, I'm pretty sure, but don't know how. Again, I stress these are my opinions and changing tastes/view points, not about right/good/wrong/bad.
There is another weaving exhibition at the Refinery, by a group called Professional Weavers Network. (Goodness, on a bad year Changing Threads is the only textile exhibition, but between October 2011 and 2012 there are four that I know of!) Dianne has shared her experiences at their do this year here, but to me, PWN reminds me of Yakuza; I know they're there, I even know some who belong, but I don't know much about what they do until they strike out in public, like an exhibition in Nelson or Blenheim.
Anyhoo, I took some shots with permission from Refinery; I also have permission to post here. The theme is "Flight".
As an exhibition, this to me looked sad; too few pieces in a big gallery, and to use the two of three partitions to make the room smaller. The use of space made me think of a school exhibition in a gymnasium. One piece at the entrance, just above your head of the entry way, was too easily missed; I saw it for the first on the third time I exited the gallery. Roger was happy with the exhibition, but surely, surely, there would have been ways to bring together works with disparate interpretations of the subject/title. The saddest part for me was unless you were already interested in textiles, weaving, and/or techniques, the overall feel of the exhibition didn't exude joy or pleasure, which I associate with flight, nor did it provoke closer scrutiny of individual pieces. And many were worthy of it.
I don't know the circumstances around the installation or who hung it, but I'm not bitching and denigrating someone else's exhibition. I keep pondering what I would have done if I was responsible, four points come to mind:
1) I would have used the partitions to create areas so the middle of the exhibition isn't left so empty;
2) I would have not hung everything that's meant to be hung on the wall, on the wall, but off-set some to create breathing space and if the visitor so desired, could see the back of the work;
3) I would not have concentrated so many works near the entrance. (Sorry, not photographed.) So something is small, you can create drama hanging one small piece in a big area, rather than cluster smallish things together;
And finally 4) pay attention to hight when hanging from above. This is a difficult one for me and I have to see to know if something looks right. I like exhibitions that take advantage of the height of the venue on the one hand, but if a piece is too high and hard to see, as at least two were too high for Ben and he didn't notice the one at the entrance, those work are lost to the exhibition.
And for goodness sakes, if light is an important component of a work and you could be bothered to put a light inside it, let's put the work in a dark area so the intended illumination shows up, eh. People were puzzled about this one, I can tell you.
But these are just thoughts that came to me in the last couple of days, and even I can never know unless I install and see for myself. I'll most likely revisit this exhibition before it closes in two weeks; then it's going to Wellington if you are interested.
1H0512-Part 2: Soapbox
During my low periods in the last few weeks, one of the things I worried about was the soapbox/ivory-tower nature of blogging. The media in New Zealand, especially those who aren't up to date with the Internet in general and social networking in particular, oscillate in describing our ways of communicating from exhibitionism to voyeurism, sometimes in one breath. While I don't worry much about comments from old fogies of this vintage, (who may be chronologically younger than me; they also like to link these "phenomena" to Jerry Springer and Oprah,) I listen to them so I can ask myself where I think I am.
Some of you have admirably strict editorial policy (or a sane hold on your privacy?) and post only about weaving, or whatever endeavors of your choosing; some of you include a modicum of personal snippets which I enjoy immensely because I get a sense of your person and life. (I love reading biographies, even if I don't like the artwork of the subject.) Whereas here on Unravelling, pretty much anything goes, but it is in part because I use it as my therapy; I try to clarify my thoughts by expressing them here and see if it makes sense in the eyes of Me as Reader. So it doesn't work all the time but you wouldn't believe how much better I've become at walking away from ideas/issues and sometimes even problems. (Another thing that has helped me, if you have a hard time moving on, is to say things out loud; I find it's very refreshing to hear my voice telling me I'm done and now I move on.)
I think I don't just wear my heart on my sleeve, but have a bright neon-pink one on my forehead, and I see myself as a straight-forward, uncomplicated person. Short-tempered but quick to apologize if I'm in the wrong. So I don't know why I've been told so often in my life I'm so difficult to live with, but then I've lived in environments where straight-forwardness is not seen as the best route. On the other hand, I worry incessantly, I mumble and dilute my opinion so as not to disagree/offend, until frustration erupts. And I hold grudges, if I can remember them.
When I started Unravelling, I pictured myself standing alone in a huge stone basilica, library or museum, starting a conversation and hearing only the echo of my own voice in reply. And to some extent blogging is still like that; it is a soapbox or a platform whence I tell/show you what I made/saw/did/said/thought, and those of you remaining after two, three or fifteen paragraphs often agree with me. At least not many of you would point out where I've gone wrong, especially if it's not weaving/technical, even if you had an idea/opinion.
When you worry or otherwise have mental health issues like I, the flip side of this is, it can become a cell, or Rapunzel's tower, or at least an ivory one whence, (yeah, word of the day,) I cannot gauge what what the "norm" is. I cannot see your face to gauge your reaction. Nor if I am explaining clearly. Or if I'm justifying rather than explaining. And it's this last bit of distinction that's been puzzling/bothering me to no end. I can't tell if I think, or if my friends think, I use Unravelling to justify my bad behaviors or if I use Unravelling as my confessional and conveniently absolve my own sins. I suppose, in a tiny tiny way, it resembles being a celeb or a politician surrounded by My Peeps and not knowing when things start to go wrong.
Having grown up in a relatively strict upbringing, labeled a difficult child, and then moving to a reasonably free place and engaging in an answer-to-myself work, it's hard for an old girl to see if the ground still exists under her feet, and if not, if she's floating or falling.
I like discourses. I love a good powwow. I miss that in Group R; now it's more or less all decided by convention/"good taste"/a few, and there is very little discourse, discussion, looking at alternatives, the "different", like we used to. Our meetings are rushed and part of it has to do with lots of quick practical decisions we need to make at this stage of planning, but I miss the "what about" musings. I understand the group name is up in the air, too; I don't mind changing, but I can only hope for a genuine exchange of views rather than meaningful glances and frowns. . But I don't want to be seen to disrupt the meetings by proposing it. Goodness gracious me.
So promise me two things. If you can be bothered, if you have the time and the mind, do please remember Unravelling is always open for discourse, and even some friendly, well-meaning disagreements.
And if you sense that I'm only airing out an old grudge without my declaring so, if you sense I am unable to move on emotionally and/or am wasting time, please say so in the comment or email me, and if you're too polite, use the code word, "wet duck". OK?
Thanks.
Some of you have admirably strict editorial policy (or a sane hold on your privacy?) and post only about weaving, or whatever endeavors of your choosing; some of you include a modicum of personal snippets which I enjoy immensely because I get a sense of your person and life. (I love reading biographies, even if I don't like the artwork of the subject.) Whereas here on Unravelling, pretty much anything goes, but it is in part because I use it as my therapy; I try to clarify my thoughts by expressing them here and see if it makes sense in the eyes of Me as Reader. So it doesn't work all the time but you wouldn't believe how much better I've become at walking away from ideas/issues and sometimes even problems. (Another thing that has helped me, if you have a hard time moving on, is to say things out loud; I find it's very refreshing to hear my voice telling me I'm done and now I move on.)
I think I don't just wear my heart on my sleeve, but have a bright neon-pink one on my forehead, and I see myself as a straight-forward, uncomplicated person. Short-tempered but quick to apologize if I'm in the wrong. So I don't know why I've been told so often in my life I'm so difficult to live with, but then I've lived in environments where straight-forwardness is not seen as the best route. On the other hand, I worry incessantly, I mumble and dilute my opinion so as not to disagree/offend, until frustration erupts. And I hold grudges, if I can remember them.
When I started Unravelling, I pictured myself standing alone in a huge stone basilica, library or museum, starting a conversation and hearing only the echo of my own voice in reply. And to some extent blogging is still like that; it is a soapbox or a platform whence I tell/show you what I made/saw/did/said/thought, and those of you remaining after two, three or fifteen paragraphs often agree with me. At least not many of you would point out where I've gone wrong, especially if it's not weaving/technical, even if you had an idea/opinion.
When you worry or otherwise have mental health issues like I, the flip side of this is, it can become a cell, or Rapunzel's tower, or at least an ivory one whence, (yeah, word of the day,) I cannot gauge what what the "norm" is. I cannot see your face to gauge your reaction. Nor if I am explaining clearly. Or if I'm justifying rather than explaining. And it's this last bit of distinction that's been puzzling/bothering me to no end. I can't tell if I think, or if my friends think, I use Unravelling to justify my bad behaviors or if I use Unravelling as my confessional and conveniently absolve my own sins. I suppose, in a tiny tiny way, it resembles being a celeb or a politician surrounded by My Peeps and not knowing when things start to go wrong.
Having grown up in a relatively strict upbringing, labeled a difficult child, and then moving to a reasonably free place and engaging in an answer-to-myself work, it's hard for an old girl to see if the ground still exists under her feet, and if not, if she's floating or falling.
I like discourses. I love a good powwow. I miss that in Group R; now it's more or less all decided by convention/"good taste"/a few, and there is very little discourse, discussion, looking at alternatives, the "different", like we used to. Our meetings are rushed and part of it has to do with lots of quick practical decisions we need to make at this stage of planning, but I miss the "what about" musings. I understand the group name is up in the air, too; I don't mind changing, but I can only hope for a genuine exchange of views rather than meaningful glances and frowns. . But I don't want to be seen to disrupt the meetings by proposing it. Goodness gracious me.
So promise me two things. If you can be bothered, if you have the time and the mind, do please remember Unravelling is always open for discourse, and even some friendly, well-meaning disagreements.
And if you sense that I'm only airing out an old grudge without my declaring so, if you sense I am unable to move on emotionally and/or am wasting time, please say so in the comment or email me, and if you're too polite, use the code word, "wet duck". OK?
Thanks.
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