Over the last few months
I've written again and again
about the bliss of making 
​(and using)
coffee filter yarn.
NOTE: To explore these posts, click the  coffee filter yarn, cellulosic experiments or tapestry buttons in the sidebar

The filters, as I've mentioned,
​ come from my friend Jodi,
 the colors from her process 
of turning plants and minerals
into pigments,
that she then transforms
​into watercolors.

Most of my coffee filter yarn posts
include links to her Instagram
​and if you want to know more 
about lake pigments (pictured above)
and mineral pigments (pictured below),
​I highly recommend you click and scroll
for she has generously shared
a great deal of information on her feed.

On my end though,
for all the photos of cutting,
 adding twist,
and weaving
what I have not talked about
is how the colors
 stick to the filters
​ in the first place.
​
And the reason for this 
is that they don't. 

Unlike dyes,
which chemically bond with a fiber or a mordant,
or watercolors (and other paints),
where the finished pigment is mixed with a binder,
the particles of color on the filters
are essentially resting in place,
a bit like stains,
and are thus both fragile and potentially fugitive.

At first I didn't care about this--
didn't, in fact, even think about it. 
I just wanted to learn and play.
They were just coffee filters for goodness sake,
fished from Jodi's garbage can.
But as I spun more of them,
 wove paper tapestries,
and made the tapestries into books,
I couldn't help but notice
the occasional bit of color
​ coming off on my hands.

Not, I hasten to say,
the stuff from the grocery store,
but rather the white milky liquid
you get when 
a handful of soybeans,
has been
soaked,
rinsed,
crushed,
thoroughly masticated with water,
(faster with a blender than a suribachi 
if not as photogenic),
then filtered
​and
diluted.

At its most elemental,
it works like this:
when applied to fibers,
the proteins in the soy
(long chain polymers),
literally grab both the pigment particles
and the particles of paper
(or fiber if that is what you are using),
and hold on
in a kind of ever-tightening group hug
that won't let go,
the bond growing stronger over time
as the soy cures.

The process is called polymerization.
(explanation seriously oversimplified, of course).

There is info on using soy milk for dyeing
around the world and across the web,
but since I learned about it
many years ago
from the amazing John Marshall
I will send you straight to 
-his recipe for making soy milk,
-his book, Salvation Through Soy,
and hope that while you are there
you check out more of his website
for his work in all areas
(katazome, fresh indigo dyeing, historic Japanese textiles....)
is fascinating and comprehensive.
He is also a generous and lovely person
and puts on a damned fine workshop.

At any rate,
one of the ways that John uses soy milk
is as a "post sizing"--
a kind of fabric finish
that protects the cloth as well as binding the pigment
and that is the way I have been using it--
as though the filters were finished cloth.
Ideally,
I would have dipped
all of the colored filters in soy milk
the moment they arrived from Jodi
so they could have been curing
during the months I was working on other things.
Buy since I did not think about it then,
I've now been using it in three ways:

1.  dipping the remaining uncut filters and letting them dry

2. winding the paper yarn onto my willow distaffs,
painting the strands (as in the photo above),
then re-winding onto paper purns when dry.

3. painting the soy milk onto finished tapestries.

And that is where I am now.

The first batch of yarn and uncut filters
has been curing for about a month,
and though it is probably a little early,
I may soon cut and spin a few
and try some rub tests,
just to see.

I'll also probably continue
to treat the finished tapestries with soy milk--
not only to keep the pigments in place
but also for the long term protection
(what John has called the 'natural scotch-guard' effect),
provided the cured polymer--
especially those tapestries that will  go on
to have a working life.

I'll keep you posted as I learn more,
and in the meantime,
feel free to use the comments
to share your own information
and experiences 
with all of us.
Thanks!
​Now, back to it.

Or officially:
Small Tapestry Media Week:
a 'media tour' on Instagram.
hosted by 
 ATA (the American Tapestry Alliance)
in anticipation of their 13th annual
unjuried, small format exhibition, Renditions.

Six weavers (with Instagram accounts) each get a day
to share an aspect of weaving small tapestries
that particularly appeals to them--
(or rather, us).,
​ and if you comment on any or all of the posts
you stand a chance to win a prize.

Rebecca Mezoff devoted yesterday
to talking about looms
(totally worth checking out all of her Instagram posts
as well as the accompanying blog post)
and today is the day for me
to crow about this fabulous form. 


NOTE: I think you have to have an Instagram account to comment but if you do not, you can still look and read-- just  click on the word Instagram and you'll get to my page, then click on the photo on the top left and there you can find the list of artists and links to all of their pages

Finally I just started a list,
and while that was certainly helpful for me
I still couldn't choose just one
so decided to share the whole thing--
but by then it was too long
 for Instagram's format
(such a surprise).
So instead of cutting it down
or breaking it up into pieces
I am putting it here instead.
It is Tuesday (blog day) after all
and hopefully those of you who have hopped over
via the link on Instagram,
will enjoy the ride.

So here goes:
​
​Tiny Tapestries ARE:

​—Portable: they can, and do, go everywhere --
pocket, purse, backpack, glove box, suitcase.
The one pictured below lives permanently in my billfold
and whenever I have to pay for something,
I catch a glimpse and give it a little pat.
Not only is this emotionally pleasing
(I wouldn't carry it around if I didn't like it)
but it also serves as a reminder about priorities:
"Do I like/need this thing I'm about to buy
as much as I like/need time at the loom?"
Sometimes there is no choice.
But sometimes there is.

​—Ripe for experiments: when the warp
is only a few square inches
 why not try
-that smidgn of iris cordage,
-a foot of milkweed yarn,
-this bit of shiny fiber from the Canadian thistle stem,
-a few yards of kami-ito
spun from variable annuity semi-annual report
dyed with indigo? 
-a little embroidery?
Or, I know — a tiny house. 
​(No need to do that more than once).

—Economical (budget): no need to buy or store pounds of yarn
when a few ounces or grams will do.
And with the the four selvedge warping technique
there are not even thrums to compost.

NOTE: if I absolutely had to pick one aspect of tiny tapestry weaving I couldn't live without, it would be four selvedge warping. Indeed, without it, I probably would still be weaving big.
Or perhaps not weaving at all.
Though luckily, I don't have to do that experiment.
Anyway, if you've read this blog for any length of time
you probably know how I feel already. 
If you  haven't though, or weren't aware of my passion for this technique, here is a link to FRINGELESS, the class that Rebecca Mezoff and I teach -- because I think it, the technique, is sooooo freaking important and cool. 

—Economical (materials): the perfect way to celebrate
that unrepeatable six inches
of bright, warm yarn
spun from a coffee filter
colored by ten grams of orange ochre
gathered at a road cut
near Bearmouth, Montana
and pounded into pigment by Jodi Gear.

—Economical (space): easy to store tapestries/ looms/tools;
 in even the tiniest of dwellings.

Note: Every tapestry in this post was woven on a 1/4" or 1/2" galvanized pipe loom-- easy to make and when not in use (whenever that might be), the whole thing can be unscrewed and stored in a shoe box (with room for bobbins).
For more on tapestry looms, again check out Rebecca Mezoff's Media Tour posts
HERE on her blog  and 
HERE on Instagram

—Economical (shipping/transport ): pure bliss in this department--
and a total piece of cake
to get your new wee tapestry 
to the American Tapestry Alliance
unjuried small format exhibition.
or any place else that suits your fancy.

—Economical (angst): hard to get or stay worked up.
If  things don’t turn out as I hope,
 it is a matter of minutes
​to put on another warp and try again. ​

—Life Changing: mine, anyway.
Never, in my days of weaving wall-filling mural tapestries,
would I have believed the bliss
of sinking into the vast and unknowable space
to be found within each tiny form--
the very constraints of size
throwing open windows of possibility
to  realms I'd ​never before imagined. ​

And there you have it --
my  list as it stands today.
Tomorrow, and the day after
and the day after that, and the day after that
and  last but not least on Sunday
I'll probably have ten more.
And what's not to love about that? 
Thank you ATA, for helping us Celebrate.

The thing about my inner Luminist,

is that she knows what she likes.

It drives my Storymaker 
crazy.

For her  (said Storymaker),
the repetition necessary
for a deep dive
​ into a particular
idea,
 color, 
material,
​​technique,
​function,
kind of imagery
(or lack therof),
or means of display--

​can be a teensy bit
​ hard to sustain.
The desire to put everything in context
or make it useful,
or somehow important,
or at least talk (blog?) about it,
is almost irresistible.

ps. and speaking of getting in touch
with your inner Luminist
(or whatever you might call her or him),
 if you're interested in a deep dive
and could also use some support
(you know, oxygen tanks and such),
check out Rebecca Mezoff's new class
Design Solutions For The Artist Weaver

She is doing a free Webinar about it
tomorrow, January 16th
so check it out while you can. 

pps. Full disclosure --  Rebecca includes extended interviews with different tapestry artists every month during the Design Season, and I am the person for January. 
We did the interview at the end of filming all the videos for Fringeless, our four selvedge tapestry class, and I was so excited by it all that I fear I waxed enthusiastic the entire time. 
Then again, do I ever not?
And isn't tapestry worth it?
​
Speaking of which...
Next week, ​the American Tapestry Alliance (ATA) 
will present  a media tour on Instagram.
There are prizes and everything.
More info below.

This year's theme: Weaving Small.
​In anticipation of ATA's 13th international, unjuried, small format exhibition, follow seven weavers on Instagram for ATA's 3rd Tapestry Media Tour, as they share their approach to weaving small format tapestries. Participate in the tour and win one of 22 prizes like Rebecca Mezoff's Little Looms online course, a three-month membership to the online textile School of Sweet Georgia, one of five Hello Looms and more.

To increase your chances of winning one of 22 prizes follow ATA's Instagram @americantapestryalliance #TapestryMediaTour between January 20th-26th and comment on each of the 7 stops, i.e., daily posts, featuring each of the weavers below:

• Jan 20th: Rebecca Mezoff @rebeccamezoff
• Jan 21st: Sarah Swett @sarahcswett
• Jan 22nd: Briget Cetera @brigetcetera
• Jan 23rd: Patti Kirch @pattikart
• Jan 24th: Claudia Chase @mirrixlooms
• Jan 25th: Kathe Todd Hooker @kathetoddhooker
• Jan 26th: Janna Vallee @everleayarn

Prizes include:

• One of five mini Hello Looms
• Rebecca Mezoff’s online Mini Looms course
• A three-month subscription to the online textile school School Of Sweet Georgia
• One of five Hokett Tiny Turned Beaters
• One of five free entries into American Tapestry Alliance’s Renditions 2020, ATA’s 13th international, unjuried, small format exhibition
• One of five free one-year memberships to American Tapestry Alliance

Once upon a time
​when I was young and curious,
I spent many hours
drawing and weaving
my naked self.

Sometimes, of course,
I was also able to draw my friends. 
Vicki (the one with the long blonde hair
in the tapestry above),
was great about whipping off her clothes,
and holding still in an awkward position
​while I plied my pencil.
But given that I was a full time stay-at-home mum
(I spun miles of yarn while hanging out with Henry),
as well a full time tapestry weaver
working madly on my drawing skills,
the live model at hand when my son was napping
was usually me. 
Besides, most of stories I wove
were autobiographical
 (assuming you are willing
to accept that my friends and I
really did ride through the night sky
on high-whorl spindles),
so it was both practical and necessary
to render my own thighs.

Back in those pre-digital-camera days
it was also more sensible, time-wise,
to set up a couple of mirrors
and spend a few hours
drawing my backside
than to try to take photos of said rear end,
send them to the photo place,
, wait while they were turned into prints,
(hoping all the while that  the position I'd photographed
was the one I actually wanted),
​and then draw from that.

Time factors aside,
I'd end up spending a lot of time
looking at my body either way,
and if I was going to be judgmental,
better the real thing seen only by me
than photos that could hang out for decades.

What amazed me then though,
and delights me now,
is what a great help
 judgement-wise,
all that drawing proved to be.
That fleshy form
those motherly thighs,
the smiling C-section scar
with its the little pooch above,
 slowly ceased
to be objects of angst,
and became instead a collection
​ of truly lovely shapes that,
​ if only I squinted just right,
​and did a lot of erasing and unweaving,
I could somehow maybe capture 
with graphite and yarn.
​
Also, it always has been hard to decide what to wear.

 A few weeks ago
as a break from holiday madness,
my now adult son
(boatbuilder and sometimes spindle maker
because fruit and trees and all that),
was rummaging in the basement
for what he thought were carefully stored
mementos of his youth and found,
not the outdated and now non-canon
Star Wars memorabilia he was hoping for,
but rather one last and forgotten box
of these notecard--
my own reminders of a time long gone.

It wasn't a huge box,
but there were enough inside
 to put together some sets
and they are now in my web store
for as long as they last.

It's been surprisingly lovely
to spend time with these images --
 to think about the incredible joy of that time:
of drawing and weaving,
 studying color and shape,
 honing tapestry techniques, 
 practically bathing in natural dyes
(see the tapestry Indigo Bath on this page),
and of giving in to the freedom
of being interested in the dailyness of life
 and of rendering those days in wool,
a pick at a time, 
even as they unfolded.

Looking at the note cards today 
I see that in the years since I wove them
things have not changed all that much.
There are fewer nudes to be sure--
seemingly, it is more compelling
to draw the skirt I just wove
or sweater I recently knit
than my lovely soft and sagging flesh--
even if it is still hard
to decide which of them to wear.

But the joy of rendering the days,
 of learning to work with new (to me) materials,
of recording  the ways
in which different aspects of  life
overlap, influence and interact with one another,
and of transforming some
of those impressions into tapestry,
is as entrancing as ever. 

And if the way I go about it has changed--
 the tapestries more focused
the narrative less voluptuous--
well, I put it down to the emergence
of the my inner Luminist,
an aspect of my creative psyche
which (or maybe who),
​ after decades of contentedly hanging out
and quietly observing
​the heretofore unchallenged Storymaker,
now insists on a fair share
of creative control.

These days, indeed, it might be said
that their very differences 
​now drive my creative life.

(FYI, it is me, the Storymaker who is responsible for this blog.
Just saying).

(And if I didn't take pleasure where I find it,
the Storymaker would have nothing to work with).

Anyway--
if you're interested in reading more
of this nonsense--
or about a body of work
created by their disagreements, 
hard copies of Backstrap Dialogues
are also once again in the web store
along with the PDFs.
I've  even stocked up on envelopes,
so if you want one -- now's the time.

 Not to do the hard sell thing
but alas, like the Note Cards,
 hard copies of Backstrap Dialogues
are in limited supply,
and it is unlikely that I'll reprint.
Cuz you know --
more ideas to try--
​inner arguments to have--
 things to make--
approach ever changing
and always
somehow
happily
the same.