What is it about finishing a big project?
Or perhaps I should say finishing three big projects,
if I count the two solo exhibitions this spring/ summer
(Luminous Cloth at the Latimer Center in Tillamook OR closes on 3 Sept)
and then sending the first copies of Backstrap Dialogs out into the world last week!

Suddenly, open space to 
knit and read in the late summer air.

At least is what my inner Luminist  suggests.

My inner Storymaker, on the other hand, has plans.

And as usual, I'll try to please them both.

Those of you who were kind enough to order Backstrap Dialogs may already have met the Luminist and Storymaker, but for those who haven't, here's a page from the comic in which they discuss  my relationship with the backstrap loom-- and how it should be used.

The comic went through many iterations before I found the voices of these two, 
and once they existed as characters, it took even longer to settle on their names. 
It was all too easy, I found, to make one of them the "good gal" and one the "bad," 
when in truth, both are vital to the development of my work.
They are different, but equal, and I would hate to be without either one.

 I definitely didn't want to call one of them 'the inner critic,' because they are both critical-- insofar as  both have needs that often conflict and both are stubbornly themselves through thick and thin.  Sometimes, of course, this makes the process of making stuff, or of getting to the heart of whatever it is I am in the middle of making/ doing/ creating/unearthing, a touch fraught
​But ultimately, I beleive it keeps things interesting and fresh.

Yesterday (while knitting in the shade),  I tried to remember some of the words/ names I tried out  and found I couldn't, beyond the first, which were Minimalist and Storyteller.

Minimalism, however,  has so many connotations these days (sartorial, artistic, tidy, ecological and otherwise), that ultimately it felt limiting. And Storyteller -- well often as not  her job would be to tell stories that already exist, and though nothing really is new under the sun, this bit of my psyche is pretty into  building (and embellishing), in the moment with the materials at hand.

For a time I thought the solution would be to call them after  archetypes (the artist, the dilettante, the heroine, the inner child etc etc), but though I identify with many traditional archetypes, none were a good fit.

Happily,  when the right words finally  came along, I knew it almost instantly--

Storymaker, by the way,  came from the concept of the  Theatremaker via my dear actor running partner one early morning. Alas, I don't actually know how to define theatremaker, so you'll have to look it up yourself if you want to know more, and I never bothered to google Storymaker as I didn't want anything I found on the internet to wreck it for me, but it felt so right I just went for it. 

Luminist came from Luminism, an American school of painting that grew out of the Hudson River School --definitely not minimalist but a concept deeply influential to all my work, narrative, tapestry, translucent or otherwise. 

​​​What is in a name?  SO much.

Anyway, now  that the comic is out in the world
and it is too late to re-write or re-draw or re-organize any of it
I find myself extra grateful for the process --
not only the process of developing this totally unexpected  body of work, 
but also the process of getting to know and name the Luminist and Storymaker,
who I dearly hope will continue to squabble and compromise and interfere with one another's plans for a good long time. 

So do you have inner characters?
And are they friends?
Are they a  help?
Do they have names?

This is terribly nosy, but now I'm  curious.​

is ready to go out into the world!

At any rate, it is as ready as it and I can be today
given the messiness of process, 
the joys of editing and rewriting, 
the trails of drawing and and redrawing,
my penchant for carets, corrections,
and the angst of sharing all of this.

Once upon a time I hoped to have this done back in June, but along with all of the above (and the distraction of exhibitions),
it took me a while to figure out the ins and outs of actual production.
Backstrap Dialogues is almost 3x longer than the Bag on a Box zine and after making a bunch of proofs I decided I wasn't ready to photocopy, fold and bind that many pages myself.
Actually, I  would love to have done the binding, but once you have someone's machine print and fold hundreds of sheets, it turns out to be a huge hassle not to let them staple too.  
I also wanted to use a heftier paper than standard photocopy paper, but not so hefty that the mailing cost would go too high, so had to do some experimenting.
​ It's amazing what a difference the weight of the paper makes, both with mailing costs and how the booklet fits in its envelope--esp for shipping overseas-- and I really want to keep them in the first class letter category. 
But perhaps this won't be as much of an issue with this zine, as I am offering it as a downloadable PDF as well as a paper booklet. Yipes!
As with everything I undertake, it's all a bit of an experiment with a steep learning curve.

But as of today, my Etsy shop has
1. Backstrap Dialogues-- 56 page saddle stitched zine
2. Backstrap Dialogues--56 page downloadable PDF
3. How to Weave a Bag on a Box--20 page saddle stitched zine
4. How to Weave a Bag on a Box--20 page downloadable PDF

​Off we go! 
(hope it all works... eek)

ps.  As I don't have any system for computer generated address labels, everything is hand written, which means it takes a little bit to send them off
Thanks for being patient!

And about time too!  
Been too  busy drawing backstrap looms to actually warp one.

But the pleasure is undiminished.

Interesting to go back to the combination of singles and plied yarn I was working on last spring to make those swaths of open cloth now hanging in Tillamook, this time putting some of  the plied yarn in the weft as well.  

It feels so good to be weaving, especially outside,
the rhythm of shifting colors,
of picking up one shuttle as I put down the other,
 compelling enough that it is hard to stop.  
Just one more stripe!​​

It's a pretty open sett for this yarn and requires a light hand with the beater/ rigid heddle, which means the fabric was pretty translucent both on, and freshly off, the loom (above and below).

But a nice soak and swish in hot water fluffed  up both the singles (twist set by time but not water),  and the plied yarn, resulting in a light, flexible but also remarkably sturdy feeling cloth.
​ I think it'd make a wonderful, drapey shirt or light warm jacket--were I to make enough of it.

while I weave the  blue and grey length of cloth in the top photo and  wait to hear from Girlie Press in Seattle, who will, I hope, be printing Backstrap Dialogues, my new 56 page zine,  in the next few days! I was joking yesterday that the comic is:  'artist angst and instructions,' but then decided that's not  accurate as most people, and certainly artists,  do not need angst  instruction. 
Better, perhaps, to say it's half  artistic process, half  technical process, or something boring like that, but I'm sure I'll get my one liner down before I list if in my  my Etsy store --next week, perhaps?
Anyway, I'll  announce it here or in the Newsletter or probably both the moment it is ready --and I think/hope  I'll have it as a downloadable PDF too.  How high tech is that?

Happily, it fits!

It probably breaks some kind of rule to use the same soft yarn for tapestry and knitting,
but this stuff  (in lieu of or with handspun), is lovely.

I started with three partial balls.
Cast on with the dark brown and knit till I ran out.
Decided it was long enough.
Separated front and back for the armholes.
Switched to the next value.
Knit till the armholes were deep enough (with a little neck scoop on the front),
Grafted front to back.
Divided remaining yarn into two equal balls.
Picked up sleeve stitches and knit till I ran out.
Divided the last ball of yarn into two equal parts.
Knit till I ran out.
​Cast off.

It has edges but no borders--a style I love
both because and in spite of the ridiculous easy pleasure of making and wearing.

I bet I wear it a lot!

It's a thing.

Perfectly normal -- at least around here.
But for the past three months most of my walls have been bare and echoey,
my tapestries hanging out on the elegantly sloping ceilings of the third floor gallery at the Pacific Northwest Quilt and Textile Museum in La Conner, WA,
​ meeting people I'll never meet and 
having (or overhearing), conversations to which I'll never be privy.

I wish they'd tell me more about everything,
but tapestries are good at keeping secrets.
It appears, however, that they have had a lovely time 
and appreciate, as much as I do,
the care with which they have been treated
​and the myriad visitors who made the effort to go see them
(some, apparently, multiple times -- so  heartwarming).

Now, however, they are back--
nestling safely into the cedar chest,
getting delivered to their forever homes

 ​I think they like it that way. 

​I know I do.

​Welcome home everyone!