a field guide to needlework

seeing red

7/28/2020

32 Comments

It was hard to get started
writing today.

First I had to
pick raspberries
(because ripening fruit
waits for no blog...).

Then just as I began
it suddenly seemed essential
to re-arrange the books by my side--

-- a distracting and compelling activity,
especially once I started noticing
the color red.

Then it seemed a good idea
to wind a warp,
though it wasn't until
I opened my palette box--

--and pulled out a handful
of madder-dyed yarn
(rather than the soft grey
I thought I was after),

that I realized
I was in search of a little courage.

Something about
about my ppps of last week
seems to have struck a chord
(at least to judge by
most of your marvelous
and much appreciated comments),
and this morning I found myself
wondering/worrying
if expressing my overwhelming
(and often inarticulate) fury,
at the endless and malicious incitement
to violence of a certain person in power
(however brief my actual words),
meant something new was afoot
with how I present
myself and my work
here on the blog.

A little think
was definitely in order.

So even as the red yarn
was as surprising as the worry,
I made a cup of tea,
and settled into familiar routines:
-wound balls,
- moved a clamp from one end of the work bench to the other,
-calculated
(2 yards, 2 strands at a time,
13 crosses = 52 ends = 104 yards).
- then wound the warp.

And while I was winding,
(because, now and again,
everyone needs the advice
of a magical helper),
I consulted the frog,
who was kindly on hand to help.

(Note: frog front feet are called hands
by the humans who write the posts at the top of a google search;
what the frogs call them, I do not know).

Anyway, the frog
(who has been observing me
for many many years),
said:
"Sarah - as far as I,
a two-halved cast iron frog
who stores toothpicks in her belly
can tell,
you have devoted your life
to environmental and social justice
(even if you haven't known to call it that),
and I would bet that your readers
have probably noticed by now
how you feel,
and what you are trying to do,
which means regular overt reminders,
are probably neither useful nor effective--
nor even very interesting
as such discourse is not, actually,
a thing at which you excel--
except, of course,
when they simply burst out,
because, after all, mostly,
you cannot help being you."

What the frog means by that last statement,
I think, is that sometimes
I am a bit too much
of a muchness,
even for myself
(if that makes sense)--

-- subject to
(and often hugely motivated by)
wild idea storms,
and a ferocious desire
to do no more harm than necessary--
and maybe sometimes some good,
to the small part of the world
within walking distance of my home
(and connecting distance of this blog)--
if only one strand of yarn,
and one marvelous new friend
at a time--
and that though most of this energy
is happily channeled into my work,
sometimes it cannot be contained,
and my decades old mule packer self --
or maybe the furious feminist teenager--
bursts fiercely or exuberantly to the fore.

Happily for me,
most of this exuberance
gets absorbed into and by
the results of said idea storms,
increasingly caught into the marvelous
and unexpected materials I continue to find,
that are endlessly pleasurable
to work with and gaze upon.

And that
is the part
I like most
to share here.

So my task going forward, then
is to keep practicing
letting my eyes unfocus
from the things
they have been trained to see
by the generations of white colonizers
from whom I am descended
("this is not a plant, this is a weed--
the man who said so went to Harvard,
or maybe his father did,
or was it Princeton--
and though I can't remember what
he actually is known for
I'm sure it was terribly important
and anyway you're related to him
so it would behoove you to listen"),
other humans and beings
who have been here all along
and whose true names
I will probably never know
(what they call themselves, I mean)
sometimes allow me to catch a glimpse.

And the prickly things
I was told I needed to get rid of
and replace with something "attractive"
turn out to be useful and powerful
in ways I am only beginning to learn--
even as they have been fiercely themselves all along
with no need for, or interest in, my approval.

So thank you frog.
And you, dear reader --
for supporting this work
however it manifests itself.
And for coming along --
--nay, for participating--
in this time we have together
to learn about and make things
with all that is provided by
this glorious and abundant
(if we are care-full and kind
and occasionally ferocious in its defense,
and remember to ask permission
before attempting to transform
anything or anyone
because we think we can 'improve' kin),
earth.

And now that I've spilled my guts
all over these pages,

I think I'll return to threading
and reclaimed the color red
in all its lefty glory,
as I can.

32 Comments

thoughts on a two apron morning

7/21/2020

38 Comments

How else but with two aprons,
to pick rapidly ripening raspberries

and carry a garden watering timer
(aka phone)

when neither your linen shirt
nor the hand-me-over-unfinished-skirt
you're wearing underneath
has a pocket?

Not that I couldn't remedy that.
A nice patch pocket on the skirt
would be the work of a moment.

And the shirt
is a continual work in progress--
the fact that it already has
a teensy tapestry pocket on one side
no reason to neglect the other.

It's just that I wear the shirt so often--
like every day I'm not wearing
the linsey-woolsey one--
that I just haven't gotten around to it.

Yes -- it's hard to tell from the drawing
that I'm wearing the linsey-woolsey shirt.
But it is only short-sleeved shirt I have,
so not a tricky deduction.
Besides, it was just a few days ago.

Also, though I occasionally
bend the absolute truth in my comics
(for narrative clarity only),
I generally aim for sartorial veracity--
if only because I love my clothes
and am oddly attached
to the idea that future me
might like to enjoy seeing them too
(while remembering what. weenie I am about shopping).

It also helps with the laundry.
("I seem to have worn Sarah-Dippity Skirts
in almost every drawing for this entire diary--
definitely time for a bath!")

But I digress.
Paper pockets
were the topic of the moment.
And they might actually be
a compelling experiment.
Though the coffee filter yarn
is itself pretty fragile,
especially as singles
(I can't imagine using it for warp for instance),
it seems to stand up remarkably well
tightly packed in a weft faced plain weave--
at least to the wear and tear
of life as a diary cover--
growing soft, pliable,
and almost leather-like
(if a little grubby),
with daily use.

And true shifu,
(woven from hand spun washi)
has been used for clothing for centuries,
so the idea is not totally outrageous --
except of course, that washi
(and the resulting kami-ito)
is often specifically made
for strength and longevity
while coffee filters are (usually)
single use items.
Though expected to withstand
boiling water and soggy grounds,
they are definitely not
as intrinsically strong as washi.
But who knows?
In case you haven't noticed,
my life is a constant work in progress --
my chief delights arising from
experiments with the materials at hand,
no matter the source.

And as we all learn daily,
you never know
what is going to happen.

Indeed, I'm super excited
about watching the evolution
of this diary I just made.
Not only do I get to play
with the wedge weave tapestry
I wove last May.
(2-ply vs the singles of the last one)--

but I also got (and get)
to see how the dog bane binding cordage
(made in the fall of 2018),
behaves with constant handling.
It's pretty rough right now,
but super strong
even if I did have to punch
extra large holes in my signatures.

Now what was this post supposed to be about?
No idea.
Undoubtedly something
satisfying and insightful
that would rock all our worlds--
though nothing could equal
the roller coaster ride
of real life just now--
my mind growing, I hope,
as strong and flexible
and welcoming of change and possibility
as dog bane cordage.
So a bit of paper-induced absurdity
never hurts alongside, say, things like
the recent groundbreaking
Supreme Court Decision
that almost half of Oklahoma
falls within a Native American reservation!

So I'll just end with this photo--
because it makes me happy,
and is a good reminder
to enjoy the hidden richness
in even the simplest
of moments.

ps. Tiny chair carved by Linda Ligon's grandfather in about 1915 --
and though this chair didn't start
Thrums Books , Long Thread Media,
and the once-upon-a-lifechanging Interweave Press,
Linda did, and all three make (and have made)
the world a better place for textiles
and their makers.

pps. Squash plant--a volunteer,
grown by itself from a bit of compost,
whose contributions to my world
are blossoming even as I type.

ppps. Because it has to be said:
Fuck Trump

38 Comments

mille prickles on a continuous warp

7/14/2020

17 Comments

It's been a while
since I've woven on
a continuous warp,

and had forgotten
how delightful
it can be
to slowly swirl
an emerging tapestry
around the top and bottom beams

as the prickly plants
gradually emerge,
a letter at a time.
(The names I use for the plants, that is,
since I do not know what they call themselves).

The length of the thing
means there is time and space
to notice unexpected words,

like so many blackberries,
among the thorns
I'm attempting to immortalize.

Nothing like a nice,
slow ramble--
or amble--
for noticing
little details.

It has also been fun,
just after writing
Tucking The Tails,
to find another place
where the practice
of working in the ends as I go
adds moments
of enchantment
to weaving:
getting to glimpse
the elegance
of letters in reverse
out of the corner of my eye--
to admire grace of their shapes--
to relish the confusion of
of thinking a 'd'
is a 'p'
and trying to figure out
what word I had
inadvertently written.

And how not to delight
in the dignified nod
of two 'r's
(distantly socializing as now is normal)
as they pass by,
one going up, one down?

I'm weaving the letters
with naturally dyed wool.
The colors were a surprise
as at first I thought
I'd write all the words
with black and charcoal fleece,
and I really appreciate
the indigo and madder,
weld and lobaria pulmonaria,
insisting that they, too
get to promote
the loveliness
of some of the sharp things
in my world.

The two-ply used coffee filter yarn
also had its way with me,
thank goodness.
For though it is almost
too thick for a sett of 8 epi
(and anything but smoothly even),
it is a pleasure to touch,
to tap into place,
to think about,
to make,
and to photograph.

Using the two fibers together
does take a little getting used to--
the extreme difference
in how each packs into place
a little disconcerting
especially when I'm trying to count passes--
but I'm getting pretty good at eye-balling
how much the wool will pack down
in relation to the paper,
and the juxtaposition
of warm brown beads of coffee filter
against the smooth fuzz
of fine spindle spun wool,
is a continual source of delight.

Even if you're less
easily amused than I,
how not to adore
the exuberance
of an 'e' coming to life?

I am hoping to fit
two more prickly things
onto the last few inches of the warp
and though am not quite sure there is room,
( the shed will be tiny no matter what
and I haven't even gotten to
my list of local burrs),
I'm still going to try.

And luckily (hopefully)
I can soon put on another warp
for apparently
my beloved PVC pipe loom
loves a good continuous one
as much as it loves four selvedge--
and there are so so many more
weirdly wonderful prickles
to investigate,
a letter at a time.

ps. And in case you care about such specifics
the warp is that merino/silk,
I wrote about back in May.
As you may recall
it didn't race my motor
in the cloth samples I was weaving then,
but it does make a glorious warp
as I had hoped (3 ply for this tapestry),
and I'm delighted that I have plenty more.

17 Comments

a month in textiles and comics

7/7/2020

33 Comments

Oh goody--
back to the blog
after a whirligig of a month.

Except --
this business of typing words--
I think I must be rusty.

Or perhaps there are just so many
thrilling and important and true words
written by people far more eloquent than I--
shining light on our world
with magnificent clarity--

that for today,
I'll let the cloth
and
the comics
(and a few links)
say what I have to say.

Plantation Slave Weavers Remember by Mary Madison

(Listening to Rhiannon Giddens with Francesco Turrisi
and here with Yo Yo Ma)

Luminist and Storymaker from my guide, Backstrap Dialogues

(Ki/Kin Pronouns from Robin Wall Kimmerer )

And oh yes,
a chemo holiday
is an amazing thing.

33 Comments

New Blue Boat Shoes

5/26/2020

Well..
not entirely blue.

Nor, indeed,
did I make them
for boating.

It's just that the white canvas
was a scrap of the deck cloth
I helped my son put on his boat
a couple of years ago--

and the indigo blue polka dot parts
are left over from a quilt mending project
(dots made with katazome and indigo)--

and I'm a sucker for alliteration and rhyme.

Anyway --
Sewing the uppers together
with my machine was really nice.
I've made previous pairs entirely by hand
and this was a definite improvement --
if not in the beauty department,
definitely in timing and lack of hand fatigue.

The soles still required
hand stitching though.
Thank goodness for Glovers needles.

I make my running shoes for both pleasure and necessity --
the pleasure being getting to run in them,
the necessity being that they are the only ones
my feet really like,
(even though they are often
not even on my feet).

While a thing I'm always happy to have done,
the actual construction
is a task I put off as long as I can
as the stitching is hard on my hands.
so I was nearly done
and feeling relieved,
when a new conundrum arose--
I mean -- who wants to go shopping these days,
or wait for online shoelaces to arrive by mail?

OH JOY!

What's not to love about this little set-up?

Of course it took me a couple of inches
to remember how to weave a warp-faced structure
(as you can see in the photo below),
though once I got going
weaving these was probably faster
than locating a website
with laces I liked.

And OH, I do love these!

So, three runs in, I'm thrilled to bits.
Just what I needed and wanted,
and they delight me every time I catch a glimpse.
Hopefully, they will soon will be
as grubby and broken in
as the pair on the left,
with (I hope)
hundreds of miles
under their soles.

NOTE: For more on my shoemaking endeavors over the past ten-ish years,
including links and sources and process, type "shoes" into the search bar at the top,
or click the SHOES link on the side and scroll down (this post will be at the top).

Oh, and one more thing:

Though August is my usual blog holiday month
my husband is just commencing
what we hope will be a month long
chemotherapy holiday
so I've decided to join him
and take my blog-cation
starting now.

While we have no plans to go anywhere,
the garden is growing madly,
and, as I did manage to figure out
a compelling new set up for my books,
I hope to spend a bunch of time
watching the birds and turning pages.
or... weaving or... knitting...
or doing all of them at once.

The webstore will remain open
and I may send out the odd newsletter,
(vacation post cards of a sort?)
so if you want to get on the list for those
and aren't yet,
there is a sign-up on the right
(or maybe below, depending on your device)

Stay safe,
keep making!

Backson.

backstrap monologue

5/19/2020

You know that feeling
when you've spun some yarn,
generated a few questions,
can't continue without answers,
and Wikipedia just won't cut it?

Of course you do.

Technical and aesthetic inquiry
into physical materials
requires experiment.
At least -- it does for me.

My brain will make stuff up--
and is not to be trusted.

My hands, however,
know what I like.

Sometimes the process
goes like this:

If I spin these batts like this,
leave some as singles
and ply a couple of hundred yards
with that silk/merino stuff
I spun months ago--

--wait-- better size these singles--
what was it I did last time?
Oh yes, right--
gelatine---

---then wind the warp with a strand of each,
and weave them together like houndstooth
(two strands of each in both directions),
at an open sett--

--and how do I... Oh... right--

use the plastic heddle--
works great--

anyway, can't carve 12 epi 10 inches wide--

mmmm love these shuttles--

Nice.

Comfy too--

--and still blending in
with my surroundings

like a chameleon.

Huh.

Best to try several weft combinations--
--test my reactions.

Ugh. Not enough twist.
Oh right, I spun it from the fold
on the Charkha--
only way to cope with top.

I don't like top.
Or silk.

Spindles are better.

And wool I prepare myself.

So fussy.

Oh look! Done already.
Where do the days go?

I thought this was supposed to be slow cloth.

`Gee Whiz.
Silky cheesecloth.

Better after a bath--
some vigorous fulling--
let the wool do its thing.

Ah yes. Much improved.
Nice drape.
Now....stitch between the sections
and cut them apart.

Do so love my sewing machine.
Listen to it purr.

Still don't much care
for the silk/merino part though--
even if it is shiny.
Too shiny, really.
Not enough loft, or bounce.

Darn -- thought I'd figured out
a way to use up that stuff.
Oh well. If it's wrong, it's wrong.

Tapestry warp--there's the answer.
It's worked before.
Silk is strong, anyway.
More twist though.
Maybe a 3 ply.
Back in the cupboard for later.

Now--
keep spinning--
need enough for next time --
all wool--
same structure.
Sizing? Decide then.

OK. Back to it.

What was I doing?
OH yes, re-arranging my studio.
How am I going to store these books?

dressed for the loom

5/12/2020

A few days ago,
weaving along and geeking out
on the continuing love affair
between plied paper
and wedge weave,

I happened to glance down
and notice
that the tapestry I was making
bore more than a little resemblance
to the clothing I had on--

colors, lines, squares,
and the underlying pleasure
of working with what is at hand
coming together in beloved jeans,
a tapestry in progress
and last summer's tabby-tapestry
linsey-woolsey shirt
(about which I just realized I wrote four blog posts;
if you're interested you can find them here, here, here and here).

Well, that was fun, I thought,
and got back to work.

Imagine my surprise, then
when the next day,
as I carefully Tucked My Tails,*
I noticed it again --
not quite as marked, perhaps,
though the silvery-grey/brown combo
went well with the pieced linen shirt
(prototype of sorts for the linsey-woolsey one),
if not the tattered trousers
(almost as thoroughly mended as the jeans).

*readers of the guide might note the use of passive weft in the top middle square above, and the tapered end on the top right one

By the third day,
though I did not make a plan,
I was a little less astonished
when the same thing happened.

Happily, the skirt (a gift from a friend),
has not yet needed mending
though the sweater/shirt is,
as usual, something I made.

This is getting silly, I thought,
weaving on and blissing out
on the energy of the tidy little squares.

The day after that
the white hemp pants I chose
(prototype for the worn out brown ones
and significantly more robust),
did not have much to do
with the colors I was moving into,

but I can't say I was astonished
when I noticed that I was wearing
a Somewhat Slanted Sweater.

The particular pleasure
of making angled squares
is apparently as irresistible just now,
as turning compost into yarn.

And sometimes the colors work too.

It feels like I should be able
to draw some important conclusion(s)
from all of this matchy-matchy
makey-mendy stuff,
but at the moment
I am actually caught up
in the drama of the triangles
that have suddenly shown up
here at the very end of this long narrow tapestry--
for after the calm of the simple squares
the pointy shapes make my heart beat
in a disconcerting (though not unpleasant), way
and I want to see if what I weave next
will calm it down again--
or not.
And if it does,
whether the underlying wedge weave energy
(currently contained by the warp tension)
will go even wilder
once released from the loom.
Stay tuned!

ps.
the "skirt" of today's outfit
is a hastily wrapped scrap
of a worn-out sheet that
ultimately proved to be beyond mending,
wrapped around my waist
to make a pair of leggings
feel like real clothing,
Because sheets are more real
than stuff I buy at the store?
Go figure.

plied paper, medieval midden tools, and other experiments.

5/4/2020

So here's a question.

When a bunch of ideas
all show up at once,
is there a hierarchy among them--
materials, tools, technique(s)--
and if so, what is it?

Do the demands of one idea--

(the absolute need to try to turn a slice of firewood
into another fully functional
medieval midden rigid heddle--

just to take a random example),

take precedence over my desire --
nay, my assumption--
of hand spun linen for its first warp?

After all,
that's what I used last time.
And I'll pretty much always choose (assume)
hand over mill spun yarn for everything.

Well, when the only two ply hand spun flax in my stash
is so rough and uneven that I have three breaks
before I've woven an inch--
a choice must be made.

First choice: a post-warping application
of a flour and water size.
This tamed the hairiness but didn't thin out the thick spots.
Second choice: enlarge the heddle holes --
not possible without the risk of going through the side walls
given my super simple tools and rough construction approach.
Third choice: change either warp or heddle.

Now were the warp yarn the most important/exciting thing
I'd perhaps have re-threaded,
as I think it would have worked just fine
with a plastic heddle's larger, smoother holes.
And I did considered it-- briefly.
But the other ideas rebelled.
I wanted to use, or at least try, the firewood heddle.
And anyway, I needed its sett of 8 epi
for another part of the puzzle.
So a new warp of mill spun linen
it would have to be.

Now I don't keep much mill spun yarn around,
and the linen I have is too fine for that sett,
but doubling the strands while threading
by pulling loops through the slots and holes,
was easy as pie.

And a doubled warp can be a very handy thing--
as readers of Tucking the Tails now know,
(perhaps also noticing how, in the photo below,
I combined the wrapped tail and double warp techniques
to begin the wedge weave square).

Oh right-- WEDGE WEAVE --
that was one of the other unignorable ideas
I wanted to mess around with,
a prime mover in my 'need'
for a new heddle with a sett of 8 epi.

Though I'd never done it before,
just hearing the words "wedge weave"
as part of the discussion on Change the Shed,
led me to try a sample on the last bit of warp
from the book of light and color--
and then again, somewhat more deliberately,
with a four selvedge warp on a pvc pipe loom.

This second photo
(of the clean back of the four selvedge tapestry
as it is being released from the supplemental warps),
was supposed to be a demonstration
of the joys of Tucking the Tails
(if not four selvedge tapestry weaving as well),
but I forgot to put it in the post.

Too busy, I think, geeking out
about the weird and wonderful pleasure
of a somewhat slanted weave structure--
and the love at first pick
between wedge weave
and plied coffee filter paper yarn.

Unfortunately,
the two weaving samples
had used up all my plied paper.
No biggie to make some more--
except then came another idea.
What about plying the singles paper
with some singles hand spun linen?
Would it create a wonderful yarn with linen strength
and the delicious hand of the coffee filters?
Or would I be doing a disservice to them both?
And, in the aforementioned
hierarchy of ideas,
was that a question to ask,
or a thing try?
Try, of course.
At the very least, if I hated it
I'd get to cross the idea off my list.

In module 4 of her Tapestry Design Class
Rebecca Mezoff explores
the reciprocal relationship
between loom structure and design.
In module 5 (which just opened),
she talks about the interactions
between design and materials.
Who, or what, is in charge?
What choices do we have?
Wherein lies control?
And is control even a desirable thing?
How much adventure feels right
or is even possible given the grid of warp and weft?
How much subtle delight can a person stand?

It's fascinating stuff.
Except--that there are never any definitive answers,
at least for me,
beyond the ones I am experiencing
and the choices I am making in the moment,
as this color, this warp, this tension, this sett,
this light, this position, this way of opening the shed,
this hand motion, this mug at my side, this bobbin,
this skill set that I have, this level of strength in my hands today,
this funny heddle notch where my thumb fits so perfectly,
all come together, randomly or no,
to help me make whatever on earth it is
that I am making today.

So that's all I know for sure.
And may the questions keep coming.

a note from my younger self

4/27/2020

Dear Sarah,
I just have to ask--
why are you sometimes so rude to me?

"Why oh WHY did you do that thing
back when you were eighteen???"
you moan.
"It would have been so much better if..."

If what?
That's what I want to know.

I mean --
I'm the one who had the gumption
to learn how to spin
AS you might recall.

And also weave.

You know it's true!

Ok, so maybe I took a few chances--

--didn't always think things through.

It's not like a gal could --or would--plan
to find herself naked and blue
with nothing but a few strands of warp
to hold her up.

But what could I do?
It was all so interesting.
And I was curious.

I never expected
the hard parts.
I mean really -- who does?

And we sure ate well.

Anyway, you've got to admit
it HAS been really really interesting.

I mean,
what could better --

than to find yourself
a white-haired woman

Jane's Picnic III: Toast Marshmallows; hand woven tapestry (detail); 48" x 40"; hand spun wool warp and weft; natural dyes; ©Sarah C. Swett 2000

who gets to play
with fire and light?

If you think about it,
all I really did
was pick up that strand of yarn--

Casting Off: A Comic in Seven Tapestries -Pages 2-3; 10" x 10" x 2"; wool, natural dye, cotton/ hemp, thread ©Sarah C. Swett 2009

Casting Off: A Comic in Seven Tapestries -Pages 3-4; 10" x 10" x 2"; wool, natural dye, cotton/ hemp, thread ©Sarah C. Swett 2009

and follow it--

Walking The Walk 13" x 10" x 6" Hand Woven Tapestry Hand Stitching, wool, steel wire, stone natural dye

into the night

until one tiny house--

led to another--

Tiny House Book 2.5" x 2.25" x 1.0" Handwoven Tapestry Spun paper (washi) Coptic Binding (linen) Paper (Handmade by Velma Bolyard (flax, milkweed, cotton; natural pigments)

and yet another--

Blue Moon; Hand Woven Tapestry (four selvedge); Hand spun wool warp and weft; natural dye; 2.5" x 2.5"

and eventually
I turned into you.

So no more whining OK?
We have stuff to do.

love,
Sarah

ps
and don't forget
that I started working in the weft ends too
so that all of the tapestries in this post
(plus the bazillion others in the archive)
could be woven that way --
AND so that you could write
TUCKING THE TAILS.

I mean, it's not like the technique is limited
to the monochromatic/geometric stuff
you're doing now.
Right?

So come on --
let's mess around some more.
It's still so interesting.

a book of color and light

4/21/2020

Book of Light and Color; hand woven tapestry; hand spun paper: coffee filters and variable annuity quarterly report pages, linen; 2" x 1 1/2" x 3/4" (closed) ©Sarah C Swett 2020

Though I'm super excited to show you
this tiny accordion book,
it was not what I intended
to write about this morning.

What I hoped/planned to do
was release the other
(less colorful) little book
I've been working on:

This second is not actually a book at all,
but rather a PDF guide--
though both (if you print the PDF),
are made of paper---
and this last week has seen me
bouncing between them
to see which would be done first:
one moment glued to the computer
moving my drawings half and inch this way or that,
the next, comfortably tucked into my backstrap
putting color next to color next to color
in breathless anticipation
of what it would turn (or fold) into,
then off to the iPad to draw something else
that would perfectly explain just one more thing.

I guess the accordion book won the race--
if race it was--
perhaps because my tapestries
are pretty much done when they come off the loom
while projects that rely on drawing and writing
can be shifted, adjusted,
ignored, changed and revised
seemingly
f o r e v e r...

Tucking the Tails actually is very close to being done.
Indeed after months of puttering along,
I really thought we (the zine and I), were ready.
Except, this very morning,
I had a new idea about the layout
and of course I had to try.

And that trying
led to more experiments/ideas
and there went the time
I was going to use to set up
all the behind the scenes stuff
to make it sellable in the web store.
But hopefully, later this week?
Maybe?

Despite seemingly competing for my time,
the two projects
actually do relate to each other
in an elemental way.

Tucking The Tails, if you can't tell from the title,
is a collection of the techniques I use
to work in the weft ends
as I weave my tapestries--
tucking them in as I build shapes, that is,
in contrast to 'needling' them in
after the tapestry is off the loom,
or, as I was taught to do,
leaving them to hang off the back of the work
to dangle... forever.

Making my tapestries this way,
so that they are in effect two-sided,
is what makes possible such structures
as this little book I just finished,
the tri-fold tapestry behind it: Nowhere to Hide ,
and, indeed, pretty much everything I've woven since 1994,
(whether or not you could actually tell).

One of the best things about all of them,
at least for me,
is that that when they come off the loom
a good deal of the finish work
is already done--
and finish work is not my favorite.
(The other fantastic technique in the minimal-finish work realm
is Fringeless, four selvedge warping
but I've talked about that a lot elsewhere).

It has definitely been the driving force
behind the mobiles, books, book covers
and other off-the-wall works
I've made since.

You can see more of this stuff in the Archive --
since I just realized that I wrote the post linked above
in 2016 -- and I've had a few new ideas since then.

And speaking of new ideas,
putting together this post
has just illuminated another REALLY fun aspect
to the two-sided, three-dimensional work:
taking PHOTOGRAPHS of it!

Photography, formerly a chore
(and often a very expensive chore at that
for the high quality photographs I needed),
has become an almost irresistible pleasure.
Not only do the tapestries get to play with the light,
but I get to play with both of them together.

And surprising pleasures
are things to be treasured,
are they not?
I hope you have time to notice a few
no matter what whacky (or terribly serious)
things you are doing--
wherever you are--
just now.

ps. I hope to get Tucking The Tails into the store
before next Tuesday, and if so, will probably send out
an auxiliary newsletter so if you are already on my mailing list
you'll know about it. Otherwise, you can sign up with the form
on the top right (or the very bottom if you're on a phone),
or just check in to the webstore toward the end of the week
and hopefully it'll be there.
Happily, being a PDF, there will be no shortage
so no need to worry or hurry.
XOXO

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