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Old Friend

10/31/2017

Back when my hair was long and dark,

and I wove a lot of nudes

and was really into color blending

and never wove a tapestry without at least one frog,

I made this tapestry:
Love Among The Iris
44" x 74"
Hand Spun Wool Warp and Weft
Natural Dyes
1998

A glimpse of the back

Weaving in all the ends was a relatively new practice for me 20 years ago,
but though other things have changed
(I keep the hatching to a minimum, and the frogs have deserted me) ,
a clean back feels as vital and thrilling now as it did then.

So, too, do the glorious hues of indigo, cochineal, madder, weld and walnut
I wish my ipad camera could convey how luscious these yellows are,
but then natural dyes are forever, while digital cameras, nonexistent in 1998,
are probably just flash-in-the-pan intermediate technology....

Old Dogs, too, seem ever to be new.

Scarface, aged 16

This work has been rolled up in the bottom of my cedar chest for several years now,
but the tapestry that was on this wall last week ("Please, Can You Pass My Knitting,"),
has just been hung in its new home, far away,
and it seemed a good time to wallow in nostalgia.

Except that I don't feel particularly nostalgic.

For though I think my technique may improved in the last two decades,
or at least changed,
I am freshly delighted with the power of a big old richly hued textile,
to affect the mood of a place.

And
having some long, slow, wooly work
to take one's gaze away from the screen,
gets more important every day.

Whirlwind

10/24/2017

It was stormy here on Sunday morning.

and thus a quiet, indoor kind of a day.

Eventually, anyway.

Yesterday, however, was a bit of a frenzy.

It was not my intention when the day began,
but as the sun hit the trees I simply had to sweep away
the the inches of fir needles and branches that had blown onto the deck outside my studio,
and that meant dealing with the geraniums, which were almost buried,
which reminded me that it was past time to cut them back and move them inside
(they apparently thrive on neglect so live for years in my careless care).
and that meant I needed to clean "their" corner of the the sun porch,
which led to tidying the whole thing,
which in turn led to window washing,

and then to planting narcissus bulbs for indoor winter blooms,
(though while outside collecting pebbles for the narcissus I got distracted and
cut back a pick up truck full of lilac branches so I will have a place to put snow this winter),
until eventually
I boiled some water for a cup of Earl Grey
and sat on the newly swept deck
doing nothing
but sipping and soaking up the golden light,
noticing all the other chores that would just have to wait,
and also

Woven on my backstrap loom, 10 epi

that I had been doing all my
sloppy, messy, dusty, snippy, ladder climbing rushing about
while wearing my brand new and possibly not quite finished skirt.

"Well," I thought, "so much for taking care of my new clothes!"

But
-- so what?

This gusset skirt, like the one I made last week,
is so comfortable that I didn't really notice it was on and thus
quite perfect for outdoor work on an autumn day.

The skirt is thicker and longer than the the first,
a slightly different design,
and, to my eyes, a touch more formal than its predecessor.
But it is just as stretchy and easy to wear.

And anyway,
all the parts have already been immersed in water ,
steamed with a hot iron,
and generally manipulated in ways that the wool seems actually to like.
And I'm always happy to throw things I make in a tub of hot water.

If purchased form a catalog the skirt might say, "dry clean only,"
or
"Perfect for visits to your bank manager."
It might also have been lined
to make sure it didn't ride up anyone's tights,
(or pantyhose -- do people still wear those?)
even though it doesn't.
Ride up, I mean.

But for me, it turned out to be the perfect thing to wear

just because it happened to
exactly match,
the day.

A New Skirt!!!

10/17/2017

This is not the project I thought I'd dive into when I returned from my travels.

It was not even on my radar.

But a few days ago,
there I was,
cutting up an early backstrap experiment,
knitting short rows panels with leftover bits of the same walnut dyed yarn
(Brown Sheep Nature Spun Fingering used double),
and sewing them together.

I have long clung to a belief that I am an organized person
(at least in the realm of my textile work),
a planner who spends months on tapestry cartoons,
and years bringing ideas to fruition.
But apparently, instead, I am a slave to the thrills and chills of
making-it-up-as-I-go-and-using-what-is-at-hand-on-the-roller-coaster-ride-to-an-unknown-outcome.

Who knew?

Another early backstrap experiment --
linen paper yarn from habu textiles that I'd had for years and years and years,
then wove and indigo dyed last summer--
turned out to be the perfect thing to fold over the top edges of the woven fabric
both protecting the cut edges of the woven cloth
and giving the knitted sections sufficient structure to prevent the skirt from falling down.

And when I ran out of the walnut dyed yarn a few inches shy of making it around my butt,
the idea of an indigo button band became a reality.

The buttons themselves are a mixed bag,
though most are all that is left of a beloved dress I wore till it was compost.

Along with my sense of myself as an organized person,
I've also nurtured definite ideas about mixing woven and knitted structures --
NOT in favor.
But changing my mind has not been as painful as I might have thought.

Just a couple of leg lunges
while taking unintentional and rather grim selfies when trying to show...

...how the woven panels over my butt will (hopefully) prevent that "cling and sag" effect of so many purely knitted skirts,
made me reassess all my 'never mix never worry' prejudices about knitting and weaving.

Which reminds me of yet another assumption with which this garment has forced me to contend:

that I am not the kind of person who wears short skirts.

But just because I have not done such a thing in the past
does not mean that today,
a couple of months shy of my 57th birthday,
is not a fine time to start.

I mean -- what the heck?

a new way to fly

10/3/2017

Three weeks ago,
in the midst of packing,
freaking out,
repacking,
and generally wallowing in pre-travel angst about the trip from which I have just returned,

I was seized with an unexpected and unstoppable urge
to stitch together a random collection of backstrap experiments
and leftovers from this project
into a blanket/ shawl/ scarf thing
without which,

or so it seemed,
I would be unable to set foot out the door.

Panic projects are not a new thing for me
(indeed, unpredictable as they are, I've come almost to take them for granted),
but rarely has my home-leaving-misery
been so thoroughly transformed
into something as magically functional, as this.

Small enough to be shoved into a bag,
it yet unfolded (without a wrinkle)
to cover me from shoulder to knee.

It was a blanket on the red-eye from Seattle to Boston,
and a pillow while sleeping in a squeaky bunk bed at the YMCA camp where I attended the North East Squeeze in.

It served as a bathrobe at the myriad places I stayed
and made my three items of clothing seem like six
(traveling with a concertina in your bag means clothing gives way to the instrument).

It covered my back,
scrunched into a scarf,
and

unfolded

featherlike,

into a pair of wings

that bore me safely home.

Not bad for some scraps of plain weave, eh?

ps. photos by my wondrous sister Evelyn R. Swett

pps. In case any of you are suddenly seized by a need to make some wings of your own, the Etsy store is open once again, Backstrap Dialogues ready to fly to you .

Happy Fall!

Old Friend

Whirlwind

A New Skirt!!!

a new way to fly

Sarah C Swett
tells stories
with
and about
hand spun yarn.

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Old Friend

Whirlwind

A New Skirt!!!

a new way to fly

​Sarah C Swett tells storieswith​ and about hand spun yarn.

Categories

Archives

Sarah C Swett
tells stories
with
and about
hand spun yarn.