I didn't mean to start this tapestry--
and when I did begin,
I wasn't thinking
about the air.
and when I did begin,
I wasn't thinking
about the air.
Back then
(all of four days ago),
the wind was blowing
in a different direction,
and I was merely amazed
to be working with wool at all --
much less weaving
it into a long narrow tapestry
with absurdly elongated slits.
(My ubiquitous wool sweater
steadily takes shape
on spindle and knitting needles,
but that is for evenings and lunch breaks;
regular studio time
has not been
wool-centric
for a while).
So the whole thing
came at me sideways.
I mean --
this is a cordage moment--
right--
and even if I was to
weave a tapestry,
milkweed
(or maybe willow)
would be
the obvious choice.
These fibers, however,
have other fish to fry
(or wrists to encircle)
and are not interested
in adapting themselves
to a weft faced form
at this time.
"Well," thought I,
having already
(somewhat precipitously),
built a pipe loom
and wound
a continuous warp.
"what about
coffee filter yarn?"
having already
(somewhat precipitously),
built a pipe loom
and wound
a continuous warp.
"what about
coffee filter yarn?"
Alas, no.
The coffee filters
did not care for
the freshly wound
wool/silk warp
(nor, methinks,
for playing second fiddle
to milkweed--
though that is
mere speculation
for while
they feel free to tell me
what to do,
these fibers tend to be
somewhat sketchy
when it comes to
explaining why).
(note--for more on continuous warps and how to wind them,
this blog post: Long Warp/Short Loom, has info)
The coffee filters
did not care for
the freshly wound
wool/silk warp
(nor, methinks,
for playing second fiddle
to milkweed--
though that is
mere speculation
for while
they feel free to tell me
what to do,
these fibers tend to be
somewhat sketchy
when it comes to
explaining why).
(note--for more on continuous warps and how to wind them,
this blog post: Long Warp/Short Loom, has info)
At any rate,
in the midst
of my connundrum
(should I unwind that warp?)
some lovely, fine wool skeins
cleared their collective throat
from their comfy place on a shelf.
This gathering of skeins --
my "purse spindle project"--
is a graded color progression
of Merino, Cormo, Polworth fleeces
I carded a couple of years ago--
and ever since
have spun and plied on the go
with my Jenkins Kuchulu
(the aforementioned purse spindle),
whenever my dear friend Rochelle and I
have met for tea--
historically at a local coffee shop
and these days
(carefully distanced),
shouting enthusiastically
across her back yard.
in the midst
of my connundrum
(should I unwind that warp?)
some lovely, fine wool skeins
cleared their collective throat
from their comfy place on a shelf.
This gathering of skeins --
my "purse spindle project"--
is a graded color progression
of Merino, Cormo, Polworth fleeces
I carded a couple of years ago--
and ever since
have spun and plied on the go
with my Jenkins Kuchulu
(the aforementioned purse spindle),
whenever my dear friend Rochelle and I
have met for tea--
historically at a local coffee shop
and these days
(carefully distanced),
shouting enthusiastically
across her back yard.
The plied yarn
is approximately 5500 yards/pound
so each little skein
represents many chat hours--
is approximately 5500 yards/pound
so each little skein
represents many chat hours--
--enough that the
collective twist energy
had apparently reached
a critical level
and the skeins
were unwilling--
or unable--
to wait patiently
on the shelf
for another moment
(ever had that feeling?)
collective twist energy
had apparently reached
a critical level
and the skeins
were unwilling--
or unable--
to wait patiently
on the shelf
for another moment
(ever had that feeling?)
And of course once I began,
it was clear that the fiber
usually does know best.
I'd forgotten
how familiar
and forgiving
wool can be--
pure pleasure--
which is a fine thing
on a series
of icky days.
it was clear that the fiber
usually does know best.
I'd forgotten
how familiar
and forgiving
wool can be--
pure pleasure--
which is a fine thing
on a series
of icky days.
Soon enough
(no surprise
to you who know me
though I had not planned it),
a little way up
the color progression,
there appeared a tiny house:
encased in smoke
and with lights on during the day
as is the case right here--
and in much of the rest
of the western half
of the USA just now.
(no surprise
to you who know me
though I had not planned it),
a little way up
the color progression,
there appeared a tiny house:
encased in smoke
and with lights on during the day
as is the case right here--
and in much of the rest
of the western half
of the USA just now.
It's horrible --
the fires I mean,
not the house.
Even those of us
not in immediate danger
of losing our homes to the flames,
know every dry leaf
to be potential danger.
We long for rain
to clear enough air,
and ease the worry
about friends, family
and perfect strangers
in Oregon and California--
and wish we could
open windows--
or go outside
for an autumnal breath,
or even a walk.
On top of
"everything" else,
it sometimes feels
like just too much.
the fires I mean,
not the house.
Even those of us
not in immediate danger
of losing our homes to the flames,
know every dry leaf
to be potential danger.
We long for rain
to clear enough air,
and ease the worry
about friends, family
and perfect strangers
in Oregon and California--
and wish we could
open windows--
or go outside
for an autumnal breath,
or even a walk.
On top of
"everything" else,
it sometimes feels
like just too much.
Except, luckily,
though being
somewhat crazy
is absolutely "a thing" these days,
working with magical
and opinionated materials
can help to turn
potential madness
into more of a
focused frenzy.
And when one can
share that frenzy,
and the utter
over-the-top-ness
of bloody everything
with dear friends,
it is easier to remember
that up above
the grey sock we're living in,
acres of blue sky
await.
though being
somewhat crazy
is absolutely "a thing" these days,
working with magical
and opinionated materials
can help to turn
potential madness
into more of a
focused frenzy.
And when one can
share that frenzy,
and the utter
over-the-top-ness
of bloody everything
with dear friends,
it is easier to remember
that up above
the grey sock we're living in,
acres of blue sky
await.
So on we go,
up the warp
into the blue--
in all the ways,
soon.
Right?
(don't forget, my USA friends,
to order your absentee ballots soon!!!!)
up the warp
into the blue--
in all the ways,
soon.
Right?
(don't forget, my USA friends,
to order your absentee ballots soon!!!!)
And as we work our way along,
it's a fine thing
to have support--
from our compatriots
and from lovely books
like this one
by Linda Ligon--
filled with stories
ideas, connection
and inspiration --
a place where
tiny house tapestries
(blue skies and all),
might even
run into
themselves.
it's a fine thing
to have support--
from our compatriots
and from lovely books
like this one
by Linda Ligon--
filled with stories
ideas, connection
and inspiration --
a place where
tiny house tapestries
(blue skies and all),
might even
run into
themselves.
