the impact new things can have.
In the endorphin rush of a thrilling idea,
pausing to sit with it for more than a moment or two
rarely enters my head.
As a friend once said to me,
"Must you do everything 500%?"
(Well, I'm pretty half-assed about many things,
but it's generally an enthusiastic kind of half-assed).
But given that reality,
it's amazing that it was a full two years
between the time my running partner Nancy, and I
first took off our shoes (for half a block),
until we were barefoot/minimalist running full time--
two years that included
a crazy shoe-juggling period
where every run included three or four changes:
from 'conventional running shoes,'
to minimalist running shoes,
to bare skin,
but worth the trouble:
to build calluses,
to strengthen all the new muscles
to NOT injure the bajillion little bones in our feet,
and to get over my slight embarrassment
at being seen doing this crazy-seeming thing that felt so good.
(Not that many people are out and about at 5:30 AM, but still)
Anyway, thanks, 49 year old Sarah,
for giving it a try,
and for giving it time.
I still forget that other body parts:
are as in need as feet,
and that too much of anything,
can have a bigger effect than one might expect.
by that tiny red tapestry
that I hid all the freshly dyed skeins
in the bottom of my palette box,
turning with relief to some soft, safe, blue/greens.
that apparently it wasn't so much the intensity of the red
as the quantity.
For my freshly awakened rods and cones
demanded that I include the wisp of purple
I'd hidden in the bottom of the box
after an over-reaction
to my last dalliance with super bright color.
and had to go find a paint color for my comic about the new piece
for there was nothing in my lovely limited palette
that came close to describing that bright dot of purple
that dazzled and overwhelmed me at once.
And when I added said color (not quite right, but close enough)
I was overwhelmed once again--
that bright hue
sucked up all the air in the page.
Who knew what DRAMA
there was to be found
in a few square millimeters?
In the right mood
it is downright entertaining to notice
how the simplest shifts
change the tone of everything--
bringing the familiar
into crazy new territory.
But what use are those wild leaps
if they are accompanied by so much extra information
that it is difficult to tell
to what one is actually reacting?
was so overwhelming
only amidst the other things in my life at the moment,
not least the thrill that
(the online four selvedge warping class
Rebecca Mezoff and I have been putting together),
is nearly out in the world.
It might even be that this last
is a bright red four selvedge tapestry
all by itself.
Rebecca is finalizing the videos as I type,
most of my drawings are in her hands,
and early bird registration opens -- um-- TODAY (June 25).
and I can hardly wait to see what wonderful and dramatic things
you weavers (and soon to be weavers)
will create once you are free
from hems, edge finishing and thrums.
I've never done anything like this before
yet I believe the class will be great
(if, occasionally, a little goofy).
Rebecca's firm and experienced hand on the camera
and on the video editor ensures that the information
is clear, thorough and lighthearted.
And unlike an in-person workshop
where one or the other of us throws information at you
willy nilly for days (at least that's my exhausting approach),
this workshop allows you to learn at your own pace,
watching the same videos again and again if you want
till each step makes sense.
But this going live business
is also quite nerve-jangling for me
because pretty soon
anyone at all
will be able to hear me play the concertina
in a venue I couldn't possibly have imagined
back when I swore to my first teacher,
that I'd NEVER, not ever,
EVER play in public.
All the video footage is about warping
and goofy textile joy.
(Rebecca and I have both
devoted our lives to tapestry
and take it so seriously,
that we can joke about it endlessly).
But I was an adult beginner musician,
and am just a teensy bit fragile
about the way I play the tunes I love so well.
To be sure I've worked hard for the past decade,
and I practice daily,
but it's a private thing.
Or it was.
a couple of years ago
my diary comics were a private thing too.
And now the fact
that I didn't wait for my face to dry
before painting my hat,
doesn't stop me for a second from putting it here.
And I do love those tunes.
So here is to us all being brave--
to trying things out:
or being ourselves.
But perhaps just one of these
at a time.