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The Value of Light

28 May

I don’t have a title for this post.  Maybe it will come as I write.  Today is Sunday and I took the day off.  Not because it’s Sunday but because I was tired and decided to listen to my body.  So instead of working, I rigged up lights for an upcoming art show at the Ramsey Center, Western Carolina University–Cullowhee–in a few weeks.  Indoor shows are challenging because eco printed scarves look dull and dingy under most arena-type lighting.

Most of my shows to date have been outside.  That’s tricky sometimes, in terms of weather, but I’m under a tent and even if it rains, we’re o.k.  And always the light and wind benefit the eco printed scarves–highlights their natural beauty–a beauty I’m quick to add that I am not responsible for.  I facilitate their ability to appear on cloth.  That’s all.  A good mechanic.

But back to the indoor shows: the only show I did last year that fell below my arbitrarily established “sales goal” was indoors and dreadful.  The inside lighting was miles away from ground level.  And it was a muddy green color.  Everyone and everything looked kinda seasick.  So this show in June–a two-day event–will also be indoors–which leads me to the purpose of this blog–a solution for lighting.

Sometimes I have help setting up my booth–sometimes I don’t–but my intention is always to have a compact, easy-to-set up exhibit.  Lightweight as well.  At first I thought track lights and priced them out.  Nope.  Quite heavy and rather pricey. I asked the Lowe’s clerk if I could rig a regular fixture up and wire it to an extension cord. She said yes. I asked her if she could explain it to me. She said “no” but listened to me thinking out loud and seemed to agree with how I thought to proceed.  Buy four ceiling fixtures–bulbs included–buy four extension cords and a roll of electric tape.  Snip off the receptacle end of the cord, strip it a bit and then wire to the existing light.  There you have it.  I have four fixtures now ready to go and they put off good light. So if the scarves don’t do well, at least I’ll know lighting wasn’t the problemIMG_3519

This is a busy year for me for shows. Last count I have 11 before end of year. Last Saturday was a good event: Montford Music and Arts Festival here in Asheville. Good weather, good people, great music and very good sales. IMG_4805.JPG

Posting new scarf images at http://www.thelanguageofleaves.com but can’t do it from this iPad. Will also be listing my schedule of shows any day now.

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Warrior Women: prayer flag #11

4 Feb

This morning I’m thinking about a warrior woman–one woman in particular–a scrappy keeper-of-goats living in the harsh yet beautiful desert of the SW.    Not a place for the weak of body or spirit.  I’m joining her this morning in solidarity, vowing to take back what I’ve been relinquishing–stepping out of this small, spiteful drama and reclaiming, to the degree that I can–a sense of perspective–a sense of how it goes.  Viewing the big screen in high definition.onewomancu

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This warrior woman was part of a weaving exercise using a little box as the loom.  She stands on cloth dyed with black walnuts.  Mounted on fabric mordanted with sumac.  Her head is one half of a sampler I made while practicing slow cloth with Jude Hill.  And yes, Jude Hill is a warrior as well.  As was my mother.   As is my daughter.  My sister, friends cousins and nieces.  This is for you.

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Into the Stillness: prayer flag #9

2 Feb

img_4189This what-might-look-like-a rag pile is actually my hoard of earthly, material treasures. (No pun intended.)   Things I would grab if leaving home in a hurry.  On that little couch, and the shelves that surround it,  I find remnants of work from the last ten or so years.  Natural dyed fabric experiments, hand-dyed indigo shibori pieces, pieces of slow cloth that I labored over so intensely, eco print fabrics, pieces of silk hand dyed and ecoprinted, needle felted wool, etc.  And this is where I go, these mornings of late, when I begin the prayer flag of the day.

This morning I was contemplating the importance of stepping into stillness.  Especially as a tool to handle the maelstorm of current events.  Contemplating stillness and casually examining pieces of cloth.  What surfaced was a felted wool stork.  Felted wool and pieces of linen indigo dyed shibori.  Surfaced and coalesced with little effort on my part.

Curious abbestreallyout stork’s symbolism in light of the intent of these prayer flags, I googled stork.   My take-away:

If we allow it to it can instill a sense of calm in us…. It reminds us to be careful with our words and attitudes, remaining calm, cool, and collected in the face of adversity. When we do this, we can be at peace.

Instill.  In still.  OK.  Into stillness.

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Prayer Flag 7: Stand Firm

31 Jan

Sometimes that’s all I can do. Stand firm.  Or at least it’s all I can try to do.

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Transformation: Prayer Flag #4

28 Jan
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Holding

Transformation:  Google definition:  a thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance. Synonyms:   change, alteration, mutation, conversion, metamorphosis, transfiguration, transmutation, revolution, overhaul; remodeling, reshaping, redoing, reconstruction, rebuilding, reorganization, rearrangement, reworking, renewal, revamp, remaking, remake;  morphing…

…from the original to what is now.   Everything a manifestation of form, of thought, or the action that preceded it.  Yet everything always in the process of changing–of becoming something else.   Variable.  Never static.   And right now I need to remember that.

My fears for the future are “stories” I create.  Stories based on many things–experience, programming, culture, etc. –but stories nonetheless.  Why not write a different story? Revise the script?  Thoughts matter.  A lot.  Maybe more than anything.  Because they manifest and bear fruit.  Personally I’m tired of many of my thoughts and retiring them to the graveyard of inedible fruit.  At least that’s what I intend to do.

Today’s prayer flag embodies these concepts–the fluidity of transformation.  The on-going reorganization of thought and action that changes one state of being into another.  And in this instance, a rearrangement of scrap cloth–disparate pieces of eco printed and naturally dyed fabric now unite  to form a cohesive entity.  For me this flag illustrates the notion of manifestation.  Intention The idea that thoughts bear fruit.  And especially, thank you Aristotle, the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of it’s parts.  So.  Like this prayer flag, we can come together with every intention of manifesting a different outcome to the trajectory of today’s political arena.

OK.  Here it is:

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Transformation

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The Sacred Hoop: prayer flag #2

26 Jan

I guess I’ll do this until frustration with the mechanics of blog-world once more drives me nuts. In six short months I have forgotten every THING I knew about WordPress. What should have been a quick download of this morning’s eco dyed prayer flag has taken almost an hour. Beginning with i-pad pic, getting it off the i-pad to the desktop, dealing with the google drive, wordpress not recognizing the google drive, downloaded a pic and now cannot insert text above it. Deleted pics, inserted text first then again the pics. Now can’t figure out why photos in preview mode won’t give me that little hand-finger icon so they can be enlarged.

And wondering all the while–“why am I doing this?” and really–I don’t have a good answer. But I will continue making these prayer flags–messages on the wind, sending out concerns, hopes and prayers trusting they’ll be carried where they may help some thing in some way.

Listen Grandfather Where I Stand

Hey-a-a-hay! Lean to hear my feeble voice.

At the center of the sacred hoop,

you have said that I should make the tree to bloom.

With tears running O Great Spirit, my Grandfather,

with running eyes I must say….

The tree has never bloomed.

Here I stand, and the tree is withered.

Again I recall the great vision you gave me.

It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives….

Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds!

Hear me, that the people may once again go back to the sacred hoop,
find the good road, and the shielding tree.

~Black Elk

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Freedom of Speech?

25 Jan

May 6, 2016.  Last post.  And today I’m starting anew.  From a different place.  Completely different.  When I read back over prior posts, there’s a lot I’m not “hearing.” I’m not hearing the things that I need to say now.  For good reason.  Now looks so different from then.

Yes, I did have a very busy year–from May to December.  I don’t know how many shows I attended as a vendor–one or two a month.  This year I’m more selective perhaps but still anticipate monthly shows, beginning in February.  Surprised myself by finding that although they are hard, I like meeting people.  And truthfully (my truth–not “alternative facts”) the scarves were well received.  So…clearly unable to live on my  meager monthly entitlement, selling at shows will be in the future for as long as it works.

OK.  Enough.  I’m freaking out.  Cannot believe what’s happening in our country.  Cannot believe the casualties already–truth was the first to fall, soon to be followed by the demise of our environment, and perhaps even democracy as we knew it.

I post infrequently on facebook.  Mainly just to an eco print forum but sometimes to my page.  Lately I’m noticing the intensity of the political things I’m “sharing.”  And I’m also noticing that in the past I’ve shared with trepidation–afraid?  Not wanting to alienate anyone?  I’m not sure.  And because facebook on some level turns my stomach, I’m back here.  Back to followingthread.  Here I can say what I need to say from an uncensored place within, and that’s what I aim to do.  Starting with this.  People, freedom-of-speech is on the chopping block.  We Americans can hardly imagine what a world without it would look like.  So let me suggest a vision–a totalitarian state unlike anything we’ve known.

Yesterday the president issued gag orders on many federal agencies.  I know I’m  not the only person freaked by this.  The ability to call and comment on  whitehouse.gov has been removed and now requires internet access to either text  or post on facebook.  15% of the nation have NO internet.

Somehow I’ve got to get on top of this–this feeling/mindset/mood/condition that seems to be taking me away from myself.  Old strategies aren’t working very well.  I meditate.  Try to practice mindfulness.  Breathe.  Pray.  And it all helps for a while, but soon the heaviness returns.

So back to the healing powers of ripping cloth.  This morning, my second prayer flag.  Made from eco dyed and eco printed fabric.  During the time I was doing this, I realized that once again shredding cloth alleviates stress.   I’m imagining many more in the days to come.

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Natural Dyeing & Printing Workshop

1 Apr

I seem to be good for about 5 hours before sensory overload kicks in and I CAN NOT ABSORB another bit of info.  Like a sponge unable to take in one more drop.  It’s a weird feeling.  Sensory and mental too-muchness.  The workshop–down in Asheville’s River Arts District–is being offered by Catherine Ellis.  Weaver, shibori  and natural dye expert and all ’round source of an amazing amount of information.

Last year I took her natural dyeing course but this year’s add-on–printing with natural dyes–takes the process to an entirely different level.  Working with indigo, madder, cochineal, weld etc.

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Checking reduction of indigo vat.

Learning amazing techniques for printing with color onto color.  And thinking of ways to incorporate all of this into Eco printing. image

The Language of Leaves

 

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Eco printing and Color in Carolina

28 Mar

Seems like the seasons are flattening out–one leading into the other w/o much transition or distinction.  But it’s spring now and color is back on this soil’s palette.  Now–if I were more literate technically you could already be viewing the mother of all forsythias.

But I’m not.  Not quite illiterate but nearly and it’s driving me nuts.  Like just now, I tried to download pics from phone to pc.  PC didn’t recognize iphone so I had to send each image as an email to my desktop.  Then I tried to save them to insert here and they’re off on some g-drive.  I found them and can look at them but that’s it.  No idea how to move them here because wordpress doesn’t support their current format.  Do I sound frustrated.  Back in a bit.

Okay. Had different options this time.

Now look at this–while trying to upload pics of the redbud, weld and woad, dogs’ morning-sniff-about I stumbled upon this option.  A slide show.  Does it work?  Too tedious?

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Forsythia is about 25′ in width.  Image does not convey the sunshine she emits. The single rosette green plant is weld–traditional plant for yellow.  When I eco print with it, though, it leaves a wonderful green image.  The other greens are woad–similar to indigo in the way it has to be processed to give up its color.

So what I’m loving about eco printing–in addition to its beauty–is the fact that the materials I need for working with it are simply a step out the front door.  I try really hard only to use foraged material–stuff that’s already fallen from the tree or plant.  Recycling energy.  I’m also intrigued by the notion of slow color–of letting botanicals brew for however long–but truth be told, I’m not good at waiting so generally use steam to facilitate the process.

Where I was leading with this is the fact that eco printing/natural dyeing has brought home to me the adverse impact commercially dyed fabric has on the environment.   And along those same lines I’m doing somewhat of an experiment.  Trying to see if I can go an entire year w/o buying anything  new–even if it comes from Goodwill.  And I’m upcycling garments that I haven’t worn in a few years–a dress and a shirt.  Big pockets on the front–essential for all the stuff I seem to gather in a day’s time.

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and this –a coat I made during the winter by felting wool from old sweaters. Repurposed, recycled, reused.  Another R word is trying to surface–two actually.  Returning and roots. As in an idea I may blog about later.

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That’s it for now.  And please may I get faster at blogging.

Oh wait–a fine green eco print that came about from light indigo over dyed with goldenrod.

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and if you’re so inclined–check out:  www.thelanguageofleaves.com

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Lessons in Dy(e)ing

1 Apr

I love saying this —dyeing. Because, well because it lends itself to a wonderful play-on-words. Dyeing. Dying. Love that both are so illustrative of transformation. Both so potentially beautiful. And I also appreciate that with each, intention is required to achieve the results I see in my mind’s eye. Intention and discipline.

I’ve played around this week with dyeing rope bowls. Dyeing rope wrapped in white cotton and also dyeing rope bowls without a fabric cover. Madder, alkanet and indigo are the three dye baths I’ve managed to concoct. I don’t know what to think about the bowls. Not sure it’s a good medium for this experimentation.

Anyway, these are the bowls to date. The purple is alkanet, orange is madder, and indigo is the lighter blue. The navy blue is indigo overdyed with alkanet.bowls1

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Looking at the last two images, and this one (commercial cloth commercial dye)frond

reminds me of another aspect of this process I LOVE. Being able to see this initial spiral each and every time a bowl begins. And then following it until the rope runs out. Complete.DSC02532

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Shadows and Light

14 Jan

Strange land it is, the land of Flu. Pneumonia. I knew something was really not right at all, but it took me a good while to get myself to a doctor. Because…well because that is what I do only when nothing else works. And nothing else was working. And really, there’s a place inside that knew it was time.

It’s been an interesting period. A time to practice lots of things. Patience for one. Acceptance another. And gentleness to self. I’ve been moderately successful at some…moderately being subject to debate, except not by me. There have been other lessons practiced–or anticipated–but now that I’m moving past that place and on somewhat of an upswing, I’ll just rest with the knowledge that there’s still some work to be done in certain areas.

I’ve been in an underwater, ethereal place. A place where only shadows caught my attention. Shadows and shapes. DSC01985

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And although I’m never certain which way my cloth will take me, a few days ago I found myself sorting out fabric. Specifically fabric dyed with vegetation–iris, walnut, onion, acorns, leaves–all these things and more. And I notice how abstract I’m feeling. Non-specific. Non-linear. Non-representational. Still adrift, I suppose, in that la-la land of wherever-it-is that I was. And I’m finding that I have no specific thoughts or objectives. Simply looking at relationship. At color. At texture. Simply looking.

And this. Collage of samples. Forming cloth. Whole cloth. Lots of tiny stitches mending together the various parts.
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Possum, Turnips and Spirit of the Garden

30 May

In the garden. Before sun up. With dog companions. In an early-morning-green trance, shortlived that it was. During the night a possum found the cantaloupe in the havaheart trap. And there possum sat–in the trap–and the dogs were totally in freaked-out-by-possum mode. So. Back inside with the dogs. Brief google on possum. No reason to move him…just needed to open the door. He was hissing and baring teeth and sitting on the mechanism that kept the door open so I had to find a branch to string through the trap to keep the door ajar. And then it wouldn’t leave. Didn’t exactly belly up, just reticent to move…

And later, picking turnips for tonight’s dinner–
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Turnips and greens, vidalia onion, and sweet potato–baking in the oven in one of those clay Romertopf pots–a thrift store score from years back.

And while the possum drama was unfolding, spirit of the garden emerged –so here it is, awaiting stitching.

spirit of the garden

And another. Unsual for two cloths to step forward in one day. But this one, I think an earth guardian, witnessing the stormy weather–
thunder and rain.

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Essential things

24 May

OK. This cloth, the spring garden cloth, stalled out ever so briefly and then asked for what is essential to a garden. Wind and air. Rain and water. Sunlight. Earth. Soil. Sky.

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Expressing Essence

21 May

logan
I pick up boy-in-purple-shirt after school. Observe completion of homework. Listen to his interpretation of the day. Sometimes offer opinions, but not very often. He’s finding his own way through it all.

There are challenges to this routine. I question–should a first grader have homework? And if so…should it be done right after school? Or later? After play? But we’ve fallen into this routine because it seems to work. “Later” doesn’t. His focus, which can be tentative at best, is near impossible to harness “later.” So.

I’m thinking about the beginning of the year…months ago…the learning-to-read process. A struggle. Math a different story. I remember thinking, “I wonder at what point I’ll be useless with the math component?” It won’t be long. But reading…well I can read. In fact I love to read…but accept that it’s not something everyone loves. Including this boy. He does it. He does it just fine. Now. But he’d rather be doing other things. I get it.

So the progression of reading material over this past year–from the early stuff–pretty boring — to Mary Pope Osborne’s Magic Treehouse series has been interesting to watch. And yesterday, the completion of a fantasy book about the Japanese poet, Basho. At the end, I asked if he’d like to try his hand at haiku. OK. I would transcribe. First effort was more of an epic tale. Shorten it a bit, I suggested. OK. A condensed version of the first. How about just pulling out the essential feeling you want to express? That resonated. So a haiku-of-sorts–
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The words. Yes, a from-the-heart sentiment–essence distilled to a few words. But I also had the privilege of hearing the words spoken. Heard the love. Heard the sincerity. The honesty. So now it has me thinking about that …about essence, about distilling expression to the most basic common denominator.

The process of expressing through cloth seems similar to creating a haiku–with cloth substituting for words. But the challenge is the same. Distilling form to essence.

This green cloth, a sampler of many pieces of naturally dyed fabrics–earthy. And the intention– to capture the essence of the life force of the earth right now–the small patch of earth behind my house where a lovely garden vibrates with energy–
It started here:
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then changes–

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like the creation of a haiku–writing and re-writing–editing–paring down and re-doing–throwing away and starting over–pieces added, removed, rejected.
Still searching for truest way to depict the essence of something nearly indescribable.

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The Influence of Season

18 May

I find I’m tired of my own words. Tired of their limitations. So for now, no words– just these images to remind me of how it all looked. How the earth smelled. How the soil felt in my hands. How the earth felt on my feet. How cloth responded in kind.

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The Iris That Keeps Giving

12 May

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and this. Last night. Waiting outside for four-leggeds’ “last call.”

suddenly a lunar nine-patch

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Sensing Spring

20 Apr

Last week, another three nights below freezing and lots of scrambling to keep plants alive. Straw. No longer available. Anywhere, in this town. Something about last years weather. But maybe–they say–maybe in a month–maybe there will be a first cutting from some place. Maybe we can get more. Right now it’s as precious as water.

It’s been very cool and rainy and I just finished slug patrol–they–the slugs–are doing just fine. Fat and plump and merrily grazing.

There have been teaser days–days when spring seemed settled in. Days when boy and dog–park bound, paused just long enough for this–logan and macy Days when finding tossing sticks revealed the sublime beauty of maybe my favorite flowers: violets
and then, because Asheville has a leash law, we, my friend and I, settled for watching from a distance. macy She could not be distracted. Was vigilant. Without motion. Would hardly blink. Much later when she caught sight of her person returning, she looked at me and smiled. Yep. She smiled. Heading for the front door of the house she shares with her people.

And I need to record for myself the progress that Juno is making. Because it would be easy to become discouraged. I need the pictures to show me how she looked before. When she was really tense. When resting was not something she could do. When adrenaline fueled her every movement. Here, downward dogging at home, with other people and other dogs wandering about:down dog
and she came to the chair where I sat, touched base in a way, then scurried off. juno up close
Hope is a wonderful help mate. Hope is full of confidence…and I’m so hoping she’ll help Juno find her own strength.
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Because still Juno does not want to be handled Will not voluntarily come for touch. I read up on the breed. She’s a Tibetan Spaniel. Bred 2,500 years ago to be companions for the monks and lamas in the Himalayas. Slept with their person to help keep them warm. Were trained to spin prayer wheels. What I read stressed the importance of early bonding with people. The importance of socialization right out of the gate. Juno did not receive that–and how that could be, I cannot imagine.

So…there have been a few stitched added to “The Last Moon of Winter.” And slowly she’s coming into herself.last moon of winter

And some cloth–a nubby silk from Dharma–wrapped with rebar wire and soaked in onion skins. rebar cloth

…and these three squares thrill me. Echo some deep rhythm from beyond now…DSC01004

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Moving Forward

9 Apr

I almost said “progress” but changed my mind. Negative association with the word. Progress. We’re told that so much about 21st century life is “progress” and I usually wonder, “REALLY?”

Juno is moving forward. Coming out of her terror. Still a long way to go. These pictures almost capture her fear and skittishness. They almost capture the chronic fight or flight mode that’s running her engine. And they do show me that in 6-going-on-7 days, she’s made some major shifts. And so has Hopi, who was not at all happy, initially, to share me and here and toys.

Two days ago. She boxed herself into a corner. Very, very slowly she withstood touch.

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And this morning–really rowdy before breakfast. Insistent that I listen and feed. Now. Standing her ground.waiting for breakfast

and later:

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So. There is comfort here for all of us. For Hope because she is beginning to realize that she is not being up-staged. For Juno who is beginning to believe that “maybe” she can BEGIN to trust. For me, because there is a lot about this experience that is less than optimal. Juno is not house trained. She won’t or at least doesn’t go to paper. She cannot go outside yet. Fill in the blanks. But I’m seeing the progress when I review these pics…

and here…FINALLY…and wow, what a trip

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And this, I just noticed, is Post 99.

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tikkun olam: mantra cloth 2

12 Feb

Tikkun olam. A phrase that before 5:30 a.m. this morning, I had never heard. Tikkun olam. “Repairing the world.” OK–and I’m appropriating it w/out hesitation because I was asking for a mantra for this cloth, and after 5-6 days, “tikkun olam” appeared. DSC00727

Tikkun olam. “Isaac Luria, the renowned sixteenth century Kabbalist, used the phrase “tikkun olam,” usually translated as repairing the world, to encapsulate the true role of humanity in the ongoing evolution and spiritualization of the cosmos.”  There.  That’s as much as I know.  But I love it.  The thought.  The way it looks in Hebrew:

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At least the way it looks when I stitch it in Hebrew. Tikkun olam.

I was thinking about seeds when I made this cloth. Seeds and spring. Getting materials together to make a grow-light stand in a few days because I don’t have enough “good” window light and I’m ready to start a LOT of seeds. DSC00690

Two hundred of these I’ve made so far. Little biodegradable starter pots. Tikkun olam.

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Post #75 or #3–However you want to see it

3 Dec

I have a new camera.  Gifted.  A lovely generous gift  And it’s giving me fits.  Not only is operating it presenting a challenge, but downloading to my computer and then to Picassa.  Computer simply not recognizing the files.  Downloaded a driver.  Yes.  Did that.  Did all sorts of things.  Tried the wi-fi route.  Did the hard wire usb from camera to computer.  Nothing was working.  No thing worked.  Posted on forums. Reloaded Picassa.  Contacted Sony.  Amazed myself at both the depth of frustration I succumbed to, as well as my detachment  from it all on some other level.  “F*%^ it ” expressed several–no, many–times.  Watching self acting out.  Thinking “isn’t this something?”  And yesterday I have no idea what I did but suddenly I had current pics in Picassa.  Solved.  Issue solved.  Right?  No.  Same problem this morning but somehow the magical combination of plugging, unplugging, doing this and that, resulted in a download.  My palms were getting sweaty and I was sensing a slow boil mounting, but it didn’t.  Something worked.  So now, having said this, I’m wondering, “was that just a necessary distraction?”

And I think it was, and seeing this now, I realize how perfect the universe functions.  I might elaborate on that later.  But right now I’m looking at what the techno problem distracted me from.  And it was this–it distracted me from the sense of feeling totally and completely adrift. Questioning.  Everything.  Why am I doing this–this cloth stuff?  Why am I drawn to it?  Why can’t I seem to put it down? What’s going on here?  And not just questioning the “whys and whats” but also judging.  Thoughts like “geeze, another little pile of cast-off rags  occupied my focus and concentration for hours, days even.”  How crazy is that?  And who is asking the questions?

It’s cleared for me now.   I’m seeing that more importantly,  cloth is  the medium.  The medium that supports an inner journey.  An armature for holding thoughts and beliefs as they arise.  A solid foundation providing context allowing me to examine my world view.  My spiritual path.  My what?  My existence I suppose–and how each individual existence relates to the all of everything.  And I really don’t have to be in my head to do this.  In fact, the process doesn’t happen as an intellectual, cognitive exercise.  It only happens when I’m open to receiving whatever wants to arise.

Will I remember this the next time I feel stuck?  I don’t know, but please feel free to remind me.  Remind me that I’m stuck because I’m resisting.  And I think I resist because often what’s arising has an edge.  Could be viewed as painful.  Unpalatable.  Not fit for dinner table conversation.  All right.  Here’s an example.

I have been distraught over what’s is happening to marine life as a result of Fukishima.  Starfish trying to pull their arms off.  Fish and wildlife piling up, trying to get as far away from the radiation as possible.  Creating scenarios that have old-timers saying “Well, we’ve never seen this before.”  No doubt.  But this isn’t a very warm and fuzzy topic, is it?  And wouldn’t we all just rather ignore it?   But there it was.  There it is.  Arising, arising.  Asking at least just to be acknowledged.  The starfish.  The fish.  The mammals.

Yesterday I looked for a  little sketch I’d done.  Not thinking specifically of making a cloth–just a way of saying, “I hear you.  I’m so, so sorry.  And I wish I could make it right.”starfish

Then the trunk show, GivingThanks, the camera fiasco. Adrift. But wrestling with question of how does one express certain things? Certain unpleasant things. Like sadness, despair, frustration and even loss of real hope for this entity we call “civilization?” Is it met head on? No, I don’t think so. It has to be dissected to arrive at the reason for these feelings. And the reason always comes back to this. Love. Care. Concern. The flip side. This is what can be expressed.

I had no intention of going here this morning. And at any point now I’ll probably just bale. So just a bit more. The starfish would not back away from my consciousness. Nor would the feeling of being adrift. And out of that, without knowing it, this background cloth grew:ship

and now I’m thinking about it as safe haven. A place where starfish might be safe. I don’t know yet what will come forth, but it might look something like this:sketch

Adrift with Starfish.

And there is another cloth that is trying to morph into being. A notion of winter. A recognition of winter solstice. Another holding place. A fulcrum between two opposite sets of perception and/or reality. Impossible to determine that one side is “better than” the other. Is this what is called “acceptance?” Or is it simply acknowledging what is?parallel universes

I want to end this on a lighter note. This reminder that love flows through life constantly without obstruction. Building bubble mountains in the snow. Life. Beautiful, fragile and temporary.bubbles

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Staying Put

22 Oct

Looking at this black bean dyed seven-patch, I’m seeing more than I expected.  Started as simply stitches moving out from the center.   Something to hold in my hand. For grounding.  To help me move into the rhythm of mantra-like movement.  No-thought.  Just thread.  And cloth.holding the centerLots of times I don’t recognize what  is coming forth until it’s finished. So here. Staying centered. In the midst of uncertainty. Not-quite chaos. Unsettled-ness . But there it is. Right in the center.  The reminder to stand firm.  Downloading the picture to my computer, I had to name it–and the expression “just stay put” jumped into my mind.  Where does that come from–“stay put?”  Why would the word “put” describe a state of being–or a place?

And why, in the past, did I hear that expression and immediately think “no, I won’t.” Because now it seems like very good advice. Stay put. It could as easily mean “stay centered.” Stay present.  Avoid future tripping.  Avoid the inclination to re-hash the past.  Stay. And this other cloth, another in the series of altar cloths I’m working on–cloth wrapped and marked by tin can– a path through it all. A personal shield as well–the life force of red.  And a reason to focus.just going

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… the little things

16 Oct

leafcritter

leafandrock

geese

stonewoman

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To See the World in a Grain of Sand

11 Oct

I’ve been in a two week time warp.  And it feels like the “me” that went into it on one end and the “me” emerging on the other are barely recognizable.  It was not a pleasant experience.  But it was power full in that I sense some intrinsic rearrangement of inner self.  I’m not trying to be oblique.  And I’m only recording this for my own point of reference.  Needing to document when this happened.  To say more would be to say too much.  Except it’s all resolving well.

Yesterday and today there was no school.  Teachers doing things they needed to do.  We did the same.  loganandearl

It was one of those days almost too beautiful to comprehend.  The just right-ness of every thing. leavesandsun

Almonds and raisins savored under a very old covered bridge and I was so engrossed with reflections that I totally forgot to document its existence. Even though we discussed it. Discussed “why” a bridge would be covered. It’s magnificent, that covered bridge. Huge old 12″ thick beams notched and seated perfectly. But I forgot it because of this:reflection in water and there’s an idea here that’s wanting to come forth. Something about perception and form. Or maybe magic? Because it did seem like magic, that such an expansive vista of trees and sky could be so encompassed in such a small area of quiet water. The sense of merging of finite and in-finite. Seeing the world in a grain of sand and all that.

As for cloth, there is one forming now. Awaiting stitch. It appears simple. But it’s holding the lessons from the past two weeks. The need to remain vigilantly present. And focused. Committed to standing ground. And holding. Whatever arises. And looking at the cloth here, I see reflections of thoughts and emotions. Lightly etched into the over-dyed cloth. holding

Accompanying the echo of words of this young-old one. “You know, it never IS tomorrow. It’s only ever just now.”loganb&w

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Grace and Focus

6 Oct

When I was in the 4th grade we had to memorize a poem. Any poem. One of our choosing. My dad, the least literary man I’ve ever known, thought it important to teach me his favorite. A sports related poem– a metaphor for life, actually, couched in terms of the dynamics of football of all things. A football game to be precise. Like having your back up against your own 5 yard line and all of that. It was about how one IS in dire situations. Dreadful ditty but over the years I’ve rephrased it into my own venacular. It popped into and out of my consciousness during this past week. Because this was a week that needed grace and offered lessons that could not be avoided. Had to be embraced in fact.

And there was little stitching, except to finish this: threegracesfinal

Not a lot of changes from the last time–when was that?–but enough. And today it goes as a birthday gift to my daughter. Forty-two today. It was hard to finish, but it was important that I did so. Because she named it–Three Graces–and asked for it. And because today she needs this–not the cloth so much as the promise of grace bestowed.

And then this:reddot1

that started as a play with over-dyed fabric and merged as three oddly shaped critters with one thing in common. Focus. The red dot. Focus. And I needed that too, this week, that red dot in front of me, demanding attention, disallowing wandering thoughts, insistence upon staying present. Right here. Right now. And it helped. Is helping.

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Nearing Completion–and moving towards abstraction

19 Sep

I don’t really have any thing much to say but I need to record the changes happening in cloth.  And the changes which may be lurking on the horizon.  This one now named.  “Three Graces.” A cloth to be gifted soon. It’s been silent for quite a few weeks.  Then several days ago it spoke up and here’s where we are.   Subtle changes.  Stitches in black.  A defined horizon.  Stars.  Birds.   Nearing completion.three graces

and Earth Guardian. Also taking its time. Topo lines added. A forever reminder of a beautiful morning hike to waterfalls. Consulting a map. Determining altitude. Distance. But really, the genesis of this cloth was concern for water–and came forth from the nuclear spills in Japan. The impact that it will have on the oceans–on water and critters–two leggeds, four leggeds and fin-beings. And there seemed to be a huge disconnect when I stood in front of a 150′ waterfall, hypnotized by the constant sheets of cascading water. How could two things–this waterfall and the Fujiyama Nuclear Plant coexist in a sane world? And I had to clarify for myself the meaning of “sane.”earthguardian

And in the interim, while waiting on cloth, I’ve been dyeing. Coupling cloth together. No story in mind. Just the wonder of the cloth itself. The transformation. The unexpected.abstract1

abstract2
There’s some thing about the abstract-ness of these cloth fragments that has me wondering. Can abstractness be a story in itself? I think one of the first lines in the Tao Te Ching says something like “the name that can be named is not the eternal name.” And that helps. Because often I have the need to create–to express–and many times the “thing” wanting expression cannot be said in words, cannot be sketched, cannot even be rendered in cloth.  Can only be felt.  Sensed by self.  And in some very strange way, these little scraps of hand-dyed fabrics seems to satisfy that need.

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Dyeing Time: Black Walnut and Indigo

12 Sep

I’m not sure how long I’ve been doing this–this communing with cloth thing–but I think for maybe 2 years now. And I’m amazed at how my preference for types of cloth and color has changed. I still have a few piles of “new” cloth, somewhere, but I don’t use it–and the re-purposed fabrics I get–at thrift stores, yards sales, etc.–well, I rarely use them just as they are. I tend to do some thing to them–some thing to change the color. Mute it down. Pop it up. Some thing. And here is my latest cloth, still waiting for stitch. An earth guardian. Honoring sun/moon. Holding things in place. Watching over. Protecting heaven and earth. Fabrics all over-dyed or first time dyed in walnut, indigo, onion skin. Some tin can wrapping. Altered for a particular sense of what? Earth? I don’t know. But it’s where I’m pulled these days.

bird

Two months ago I started an indigo fermentation vat. And NO THING happened for weeks. I even put a light on it for a month, stirred it daily, but really just decided it wasn’t going to happen. And then yesterday, when I popped the lid off the container, there it was–that big coppery pile of bubbles on top of the liquid. So I dyed yesterday. With indigo. Simultaneously I was heating a pot of black walnuts on the stove in the kitchen. And I forgot about it in my indigo bliss. Forgot about it until I could SMELL it–and I was quite a ways removed from the kitchen. This was o.k. The windows were open. Fans on. Magic incense burning. But still. An unexpected delivery from Fed Ex. The driver looking at me with a peculiar expression. Sniffing. Looking over my shoulder into the house. Wondering. I resisted the temptation to explain.

But I did dye yesterday. And here is the cloth wet:

indigo1
indigo2

indigo3

indigo4

and the finished, dried fabric:

indigo9

indigo8

indigo7

indigo6

indigo5

Would have posted yesterday but got side tracked. Two weeks ago I was handed two “cicada seeds” by g-son. To keep. To guard. I always honor those requests, so why I tossed them, I just don’t know. But I did. Threw them away. I vaguely remember that I also crumpled them up first, rather intrigued with the way they crunched, like some food snack. Thought about them, then, as food stuff. But the bottom line was I threw them away.

Yesterday after school, g-son told me he needed them now. Needed the “cicada seeds.” Wanted to use them for a class project. In two days. So would I please bring them tomorrow when I picked him up? O.K. Yes. Hmmmmm. So spent this morning looking for more. And found these three hanging in various places, on the stone wall, the wooden fence, and one tangled in a spider’s web. Good. This is good. “Cicada seeds.” Yes.

cicadas

Sitting on top of just dried fabric. Black walnut. And here’s some of the black walnut dyed fabric from yesterday.

black walnut

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