Blog Archives

tiny tapestries pulling me on

12/31/2019

A year ago,
the first of January
fell on a Tuesday--

and the blog post from that day
is all about the making of tiny books.

In fact,
when I checked out my blog archives
I noticed that the whole month of January 2019--
indeed the entire year--
(for though I may sometimes scoff
at the impositions
of human-imposed calendars,
and work on official holidays,
weeks, months and years
do provide a useful framework,

--not unlike a loom,
or a four selvedge warp
within whose limits
a gal can experiment to her hearts content,
changing her mind,
from orange to pink
as she will),

--the entire year,
(as I was saying),
is punctuated
by the making
of little tapestries,

most of which
have become tiny books,

which in turn
have become tiny diaries,

within which
I have drawn comics
of me weaving,

coloring each drawing
with K Jodi Gear's
hand made watercolors,

the creation of which
provides
not only materials for more tapestries,

but also inspiration
for said tapestries
as well.
How meta is that?

Here's hoping
I can stick to the point
with fewer parenthetical
and/or creative
asides
in 2020.

Or maybe not?

Who knows.
Except to start off this New Year's Eve,
I'll leave you with a photo of Heptys in waiting--
so beautiful, all lined up--
and delicious to test --
a highlight of the holiday--
for what could be more satisfying
than possibility--
intense haptic delight in the moment--
while making yarn
that will provide similar pleasure
in the future?

two baskets and a book--

12/24/2019

--aka: three projects to keep
my holiday angst
in check.

1. a twined basket
made with
dead leaf cordage
(iris, daylily, cornhusk)
and coffee filter yarn

photographed on yet another
hand spun coffee filter experiment.

2. a marvelous book
by Kate Davies

that arrived in Idaho
soaking wet,

its wrinkled pages stuck together,
and binding falling apart,

roughly but satisfyingly mended
with a lopsided eggbeater drill,

some hand spun linen,
and a couple of needles,

now the middle of being read
with enormous enjoyment
(extra powerful since it is once again sturdy)--
and with particular joy
because Kate's first chapter
is on mending....

3. a lopsided willow object
intended to hold gifts
(you know -- roll it around
and open the present
that falls out the hole...)

that turned out to be too big
to fit through any doors in my house

but which nevertheless
makes a fine blind

for photographing
the rare and non-migratory
ten foot pink flamingo.

Life's grand and absurd, eh?
Might as well
let the good times roll on
(even when the gifts inside
are invisible).

not boring yet!

12/17/2019

It's astonishing, really,
how much I continue
to love making
these little books--

at least once I begin.

Before I start
there is always
the moment
when it feels like a chore.

"Almost out of pages, Sarah!
Stop spinning
and make a new book.
NOW!"
(so bossy)

Of course I forget all that
once I actually start tearing and folding paper.
And once I've made or found the cover
I'm immersed until done.

The cover thing has been growing on me.
My first coptic bound diaries
didn't even have them,
the top and bottom signatures
having to do the job.
Then, to save that lovely paper,
I covered the books in scrap cardboard
gleaned from the backs of pads.

It is only in making the last three
that I've been brave enough
to try a thing
I'd been consciously avoiding--
stitching tapestries onto books
not as decorative objects,
but as paper protection.

My fear
was that tapestry covers
would make the books feel precious--
would strip both the pages
and the act of drawing in them
of the relaxed status
I count on.
Transforming them
into untouchable artworks
about which I might be
vaguely reverential--
and thus not use--
would do me no good at all.

At the same time
I was also concerned
that it would be painful
to watch my precious
tiny tapestries
grow grubby
with dailyness.
Are they not works
to go on walls?
"Be careful, be careful, be careful."
Who needs that?

So far, neither concern
has been warranted.
(for which I'm hugely thankful),
though I'm not sure why.

It could be
that drawing myself
as a cartoon character
every day--
taking a step back,
seeing this person called Sarah,
noticing how she behaves
what she thinks,
what she has been making
(and of course gently mocking as necessary),
is as helpful and addictive
as running.

And since both practices
are now well established
I am no longer intimidated
or embarrassed,
or stopped
(injury or unavoidable circumstances notwithstanding),
by much of anything.

It could also be
that using a thing I've made--
be it sauerkraut, sweaters,
shoes or a skirt--
transforms it back
from precious object-hood

into a treat,
so that lacing up my shoes
(oh that moment
when the grubby, familiar cloth
snugs up around my ankle),
or opening up the diary
and watching the marks appear
(so that's what today feels like),
becomes an pleasure
worthy of anticipation--
a daily gift
that cannot be matched
by anything purchased.

Or perhaps it is merely
the fathomless joy
of surprise:
--how today's run
is different from yesterdays,
--how the thing I draw
is never the thing
I think I'm going to draw,
--how the same route
and the same apparent image
(me blogging, or weaving, or spinning),
rendered over and over and over
still feels like a miracle,

or indeed,
--how the word
"and,"
upside down and verso,
looks like the word
"pug"
in mirror writing.

ps. those running shoes are now well into their second winter (I have a low pair for warm weather). I waxed them for semi-waterproofedness which is one of the reasons they are so grubby -- the dirt sticks to wax really well.
For more on these running shoes (and others),
Click here

today at my house

12/10/2019

there is coffee filter yarn.

The sun is shining.

And the narcissus--

almost blooming--

are casting shadows on the wall.

Just In Time Spinning

12/3/2019

After the weaving/knitting confusion
of last week's post
I was pretty sure that today
I could stick to the point.

The trouble began
when I began to gather
photos--

for no sooner had I found a few decent pictures
--of fleece prep and spindle choice,
--of knitting and ripping out and knitting again,
--of the three-needle-side-and-sleeve-seam-bind-off,
--and of the joys of putting a mock turtleneck
on what I had previously considered
a square-necked garment
(making it a square neck that looks round,
to riff off of Roald Dahl),*
*see chapter 23, Square Candies that Look Round

than I got completely distracted
by the other three (or is it four now?)
sweaters I've knit from this same fleece
(a Targhee/Debouillet from Nancy Ortmann).

What caught me up
was thinking about how,
though I used the same Hepty Spindles
and spun virtually identical singles
I treated the final yarn making process quite differently:

--dyeing and carding the fleece, spinning all the singles, then plying and knitting
vs
--chain plying each spindle full of singles, then dyeing and knitting then all
vs
--chain plying each spindle full and knitting it right away.

Before long I was all bogged down
with gathering pictures,
covering my computer desk top
with images to explain my choices,
and trying to describe why each approach
suited the mood and project of the moment
(and also getting sucked into inspecting old projects
with the wisdom of hindsight)--

and soon I'd totally forgotten
that your patience for such nonsense
(at least all in one blog post)
would soon be exhausted--
especially when what I REALLY wanted to do
was talk about the third choice,
the one I used for the most recent two:
-the Somewhat Slanted I'm wearing as I type
-and a Magic Medium
that I've worn like crazy since July
but don't think I've blogged about
because I hope to revise the magic Medium pattern
and figure it'd be better to talk about it
when I've got the new, more versatile version done
(though of course anyone who has bought it on Ravelry
will get a revised version if/when I get
a round tooit).

So in the name of sticking to the point
I deleted all that historic nonsense
so that I could say
that
though potentially filled with imperfections
(each skein slightly different
due to my spinning mood
and the weight of the spindle
from one end of the cop to the other)
just-in-time spinning
with a plying stick/wand
is my current absolute favorite.

And here's why:

A gal can even lounge on her bed
and pretend to take a nap
while chaining
if she really needs a break
but can't quite bring herself
to put down the yarn.

And what's not to love about that?

ps . For more about using a plying stick,
check out this blog post:
Cool Tools

pps And sigh.
I still feel compelled
to tuck a few photos of those other two methods
at the bottom
because there they are on my desktop
and I want to tidy it up
but will dispense with the descriptions
as I think I'm almost out of words.