Healing Handcrafting

exploring process and healing through fiber arts and handcrafting

Category Archives: Handcrafting


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Grieving While Knowing About Grief

(this post was originally published on The Long Grief Journey website)

This year is off to a very raucous and rather painful start. I know I am not alone in feeling this way, but I wanted to share with you what has been happening because it is so relevant to the topic of this site, which is in a word, grief.

Just over three weeks ago, my father died. Six weeks to the day prior to his death, my grandmother died. In a matter of six weeks, my family lost two elders, and the reality of this is continuing to seep into my mind, heart, and bones.

Several people have asked me if the book I wrote with Pamela Blair has helped me deal with my grief. It’s been an interesting thing to think about. Going through the process of losing my dad with my family, I often thought to myself, “my god, I cannot believe how much this hurts.” There were times in the hospital as well as at my dad’s wake when I didn’t feel my feet on the ground. There were times sobs erupted from my body without warning. There was a lot of sleeplessness and anxiety.  What I realized was that knowing about grief doesn’t alter the pain of grief. But what it has done for me is to normalize my experience of it and not judge myself for anything. Steeping myself in research on grief and talking with so many people about their experience of it, I see that when we go through grief, we know it. When we listen to people who are suffering without trying to rush them to feel better, we absorb and open our hearts to humanity. We become part of the fabric of our shared experience, and it is textured, layered, real.

Our “culture” is often accused of not doing death and grief right. Collectively, we don’t talk about it enough, we keep it away from us and fear it. We try to outlive death and deny its existence. There is evidence of all of that, for sure. But I can say that going through these last couple of months, I’ve witnessed far more people getting grief than not. At my father’s wake, tons of people came and not one person said anything that made me bristle or think, “wow, they just don’t get it.” Mine and my family’s pain was held, responded to tenderly, and with deep interest and compassion. I wasn’t able to attend my grandmother’s services due to having COVID-19 but I feel sure the same energy was present for my family then.

What I do see in our culture is that capitalism and our bowing at the altar of work is a huge problem. One family member of mine had two unpaid days of bereavement for the death of a close family member. Two unpaid days. What? Is that a joke? Several others’ jobs had policies that were a little better than that and their management was very accommodating given the unbelievable losses affecting our family. But it’s important to know this: federal law does not require organizations or companies to include bereavement leave in their benefits packages. As of April 2023, only five states in the US had bereavement leave laws; three additional states had bereavement legislation efforts in the works. “As the Family and Medical Leave Act stands, bereavement is not an acceptable condition for taking unpaid leave from work.” Time minimums for bereavement leave as well as payment structures vary from state to state (or those five states that have actual bereavement laws). citation

For the rest of the country, it is up to the company or organization to determine their own bereavement policies including whether to have them at all. The typical scenario is three- to five-days leave. Sometimes these days are paid, sometimes not, sometimes a hybrid of the two. The size and financial constraints of companies obviously affect this to some degree. Also important to note, only 56% of the population works for places that even have benefit packages. What do hourly workers or those that are self-employed do when they suffer a loss or a family tragedy?

With this kind of pressure to get back to work, there is an underlying communication which is basically, “get yourself together enough to get back out there”, which for many people following the death of a loved one requires faking it. Big time. Feeling distracted, depressed, exhausted, confused, and vulnerable are very common emotional experiences following a loved one’s death, and having to fake it can make things more difficult for people. In fact, for some this is an added layer of trauma that complicates grief in the years to come.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have been in a position where I could take the time I needed to gather myself back into a place that was fit for work. I continue to be in a place where I can do what I need to do to take care of myself. But I am aware that this is not the case for many people, and that is unacceptable. I think this cultural problem of not “doing grief right” is less a human problem and more a political and economic problem.

In sharing these thoughts with you, I am channeling the energy of my dad. He had strong opinions about politics and policy. I loved talking to him about these kinds of things and often called him to get his opinion on something or his long-view perspective on issues I didn’t fully understand. I’ve gone to call him numerous times in the last couple of weeks, looking to catch up and shoot-the-breeze. I’ll miss doing that so much but hopefully he knows (and I believe he does) that I’ll keep at it and continue to advocate for what I believe in.

And if you’re reading this because you are grieving, you are not alone. I hope you are taking all the chances you can to be tender to yourself and that you hold yourself with all the compassion you would afford another person. ~ Bradie


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2024 Came Out Swinging

It’s a rainy Friday – rain in January? In Vermont?

It’s been too long since I’ve recorded here my progress and process in weaving, and there’s so many reasons for that of late. Let’s just say 2023 went out with an epic attitude problem and 2024 picked up the baton and leveled some more painful life experiences.

I’d like to acknowledge here that the person who taught me to knit, my step-grandmother who has been in my life since I was 9, passed away on January 7. Her name is Marion Bogdanski (née Trio). I remember vividly when Nanny started teaching me to knit. She was so patient and encouraging, always urging me to relax my hands and loosen my stitches so I wouldn’t have to force the knitting needle into the fabric for every new stitch. Nanny’s mother, Nana, lived with her for time. Nana was from Sicily, and I remember thinking she was amazing- little and delicate and lovely. She would sit and knit, too, me at her feet. I’d hear behind me the click, click, click of the knitting needles going so fast. I remember thinking that one day I’ll be able to knit like that. Still hasn’t happened, but those memories of learning from Nanny and Nana are precious to me and I suspect have a lot to do with how I ended up loving fiber art and craft so much. Also, I must mention that Nanny made the best pancakes ever and I will make homemade pizza and fried dough every New Year’s Eve in her memory. Doing that with Nanny on NYE are some of my favorite memories with her, as well as watching old movies, listening to her stories, playing cards, and getting cooking tips. So many times when I’d need to make something good, I’d call Nanny and ask, how do you do this or that, and she’d take the time and explain every step to me and tell me exactly what to get at the store. That’s so generous. I hope she is dancing and singing with her wonderful Henry and all of her family and friends who left before her. Isn’t she so beautiful?

Another event that has happened in this new year that is especially relevant to the point of this blog is to do with arthritis, believe it or not. This is a topic that I hope to pick up in some depth in the coming months or years. Arthritis doesn’t go away, after all, but more is something to tend to, know about, live in accordance with, and adapt to. In short, I have osteoarthritis which often invites statements like, “well, you’re getting older, and aches and pains are part of it” or “that’s just normal aging”, even from doctors. I have to say I’ve found this entirely unsatisfying. I’ve noticed over the last few years a significant shift in how osteoarthritis in my fingers and hands is affecting my ability to do things that are important to me, namely weaving and teaching weaving.

The way arthritis has been affecting me for the last couple of years is in pain, bending of fingers, and the development of cysts that are doing their best to respond to the impacts of bone spurs that are doing their best to deal with the fact that there’s nothing in between certain of my finger joints. These cysts can often be ignored but one of mine went rogue and became an ongoing issue in September, resulting in the need to have them surgically removed. I had this minor surgery just over two weeks ago and am continuing to heal. Today I was able to tie my shoes using my healing fingers, which felt like a big deal.

What’s the point of sharing all this? Well, I know there are a lot of artists and crafters out there who have arthritis. And I am learning very deeply what it is like to have a physical condition that affects what you can do, how you feel about yourself and your future, and that simply hurts sometimes. As I climb out of feeling really bogged down by the discomfort of post-surgical healing, I realize that I want to move into this space of learning more deeply. I want to know how to better care for myself so that I can keep doing things that I love. I also want to learn more about how to help others do the same, no matter what condition they are dealing with.

I didn’t realize how much I loved weaving until I couldn’t weave. I didn’t realize how much I loved teaching until I thought I might not be able to. I didn’t realize how many people were out there, wanting to make, create, express, and share their light with the world who for one reason or another can’t or don’t know how to modify things in a way that allows them to keep at it. To put it simply, going through all this has cracked my heart open even more. Just like grief has.

Soon I’ll write about some projects I was able to finish before the surgery and talk about some other things I’m working on and thinking about. Until then, I’d love to hear from you if you are managing a condition that has affected or affects how you create and express yourself. Who knows- maybe a larger conversation can start where others can find support and new ideas when they are struggling.

p.s. I found this website about arthritis really helpful.

The Long Grief Journey


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Supporting Grieving Children

Thursday is Children’s Grief Awareness Day. You can read about the origins of this important day here. If you have a child in your family, classroom, sports team, extracurriculars, or community that you know is grieving the loss of a loved one, you can find wonderful information on the Highmark Caring Place website about how to support them.

Definitely check out their Facts and Stats page for some insights into the breadth and depth of grieving children and the long-term flow of grief so many of them experience.

Below I’ve shared an excerpt from The Long Grief Journey in hopes of contributing to this very important conversation. There have been many times over the years where I’ve worked with children who appeared to be struggling with learning or behavioral issues who also had lost a loved one. Sometimes it was long enough before I became involved for educators and other important adults in their lives to not be aware of the child’s loss. Sometimes too, the assumption was made that so much time had passed between the child’s loss and whatever was happening at the moment that the two issues (or more) weren’t related. What we found, time and again, was that with tender care and raised awareness, support of children was more full-bodied, relevant, and empathetic when the picture of the child’s life was viewed as a whole, grief included.

I hope that if you are supporting a grieving child, you find this useful.

The Long Grief Journey, excerpt from Chapter 15:

Helping Children Cope with Long-term Grief While Tending to Yourself

It can be tough to help kids deal with grief when you’re grieving as well. It’s important to take care of yourself…

Amy Morin, LCSW, psychotherapist

A life built around a core sense of absence is its own type of grief and for many is difficult to describe in words. The journey begins early if your child lost a significant loved one at an age where they don’t hold any memories of them. If you’re helping your child grow up with the absence of a precious loved one, you already know you have a crucial role to play. It’s important to keep their deceased loved one in consciousness, by name and by image, to tell stories about them, saying their name in fluid, non-whispered ways. Consider also this truth: children will grieve and will process their grief in some way, no matter what we do. The more open we are, and the more space we can hold for them, the more fluidly their experience will go.

SPOTTING LONG-TERM GRIEF IN CHILDREN

When a child loses a parent…that child grows up feeling different and alone. A story is written in a secret place in that child’s mind—a story of loss and pain and the triumph over that pain.

Maxine Harris, PhD, author The Loss That is Forever: The Lifelong Impact of the Death of a Mother or Father

As much as we’d like to insulate ourselves from untimely loss, it’s proven to be impossible. Some people lose a loved one when they’re infants, and others after a long life lived together. There is no official roadmap detailing how loss will impact a life, but some themes emerge worth considering.

Here, we write as though you are a parent or caregiver to a child who has lost a significant loved one, but if you are reading this section with yourself in mind, hold a space for remembrance of your age and your thinking and needs from that time. So often as children go through their own grieving process, they are supported by people who are also grieving and who have varying levels of knowledge about developmental ages and stages and the needs associated with them. Those who are in the acute stage of grieving don’t generally have a lot of extra energy to spare.

Let’s begin with what unifies us all in the experience of long- term grief, regardless of the age you are at the time of loss. In the beginning, common feelings and reactions include anger, ambivalence, longing, and the persistent striving to recover the person lost. Age is what tends to dictate how these emotional reactions appear and are understood or expressed. As a rule, adults have more life experience than children and have more reference points for identifying feelings and for asking for what they need. Children are often confused about what their feelings are about and may even struggle with naming them. Anger can feel more like an urge. Persistent longing might be expressed through obsessive ritual and magical thinking. When young children lose a parent, sibling, or other precious loved one, the effects can last for years, especially if they are not supported by the important adults in their lives in a way that allows all of the feelings and fears to be expressed and processed. Michael described how his granddaughter continues to process the death of her father who passed away five years ago.

My granddaughter has hundreds of cuddly toys. So many around her bed that she can’t get in it! She fixates on keeping them all in the same order. She is ten now and she doesn’t look to be abandoning her teddy bears any time soon. We just accept it.

It’s so important for caregivers, teachers, and other adults to know that even years after a child loses a dear loved one, especially a parent or sibling, issues can arise which look like anxiety, depression, attention deficit disorder, autism, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and academic delays. In a child’s life, loss changes the shape, texture, flow, and rhythm of most everything. It doesn’t mean they can’t go on to live wonderful enriching lives, but it does mean the relevant and important adults in their lives need to keep an open ear to underlying issues as they express themselves.

Older children and adults understand time and finality, whereas infants, toddlers, and young children do not. Forever can be both an impossible concept to understand as well as terrifying when applied to the deceased loved one. It’s easy to see how immediate grief reactions can evolve and morph into long-term and unresolved grief as the child learns to have a relationship with someone who isn’t there. Even years later, people of all ages report “seeing” their loved ones in passing cars or in groups of people. Pam swears she saw her father sitting in a diner eighteen months after his death. “I saw him sitting in the window from the parking lot wearing his favorite baseball hat, and I almost approached him!” This kind of seeking behavior is found in people of all ages.

No matter the age a child is when they lose an important loved one, they are likely to regress to behaviors from a younger developmental stage, at least for a while. Children who were potty-trained may bed wet again for a time. Teenagers may want to sleep in their parent’s room or may not feel comfortable going out. Moreover, adults may wish for someone else to manage the nuts and bolts of life, responsibility feeling too burdensome and stressful. Herein lies the potential for a complicated battle of the needs. It’s easy to imagine that if an adult is feeling the pains of grief for a long time and needs a release of pressure, it might be doubly hard to care for children who suddenly are not only grieving but are also doing things that are unexpected, appear immature, or even are annoying. The way children’s caregivers respond to these regressions has a lot to do with the way grief is metabolized in the long run. That’s why getting support and gaining increased under- standing of how children express is so very important.

A LIFE REDEFINED

Ian was twelve when he lost his father. When he was twenty, he asked, “I wonder what kind of man I would have been if I’d had my father all this time.” Now he’s forty-one and told us, “I still miss him every day.”

Pam

Another thing to remember is that at every developmental stage or milestone, life is redefined. Graduations, new jobs, greater independence, a committed relationship, parenthood—all these things that come to pass in a life stand out as one more life event a parent didn’t witness, and one more moment to grieve. Over a lifetime, metabolizing this loss and incorporating it into one’s identity is the goal.

Those who lost a loved one at a young age might not feel free to talk about them. Some feel as though bringing up their name or names will make others uncomfortable. Some suffer from feelings of sadness and jealousy when they witness others having close and bonded relationships. There is a sense of difference, of otherness that marks a person’s life and can make special moments at best bittersweet, at worst, emotionally intolerable. It seems there is a value placed on the recency of loss. The further back one’s loss goes, the less room it gets to take up in conversation. Meanwhile, the person who lost someone at an early age may feel like this fact of their life is the first part of them that enters a room, the rest shaped by this loss.

Whether we’re healing our inner child, tending to our adult wounds, or helping another person on their long journey, it helps us to be oriented to where a person was in life when they sustained their profound loss. It can also help us serve ourselves from a tender and compassionate point of view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Book Recommendation: a dear friend of mine whose family has been impacted greatly by loss recommends the book The Invisible String, by Patrice Karst. She said this book was invaluable to her family when they were supporting her grandchild through grief. There are other books in the series that are all wonderful and deeply supportive of children and those who care for them.

Do you have books you recommend for grieving children?


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Five Gifts of Weaving

There is something alchemical about handweaving. It connects us with ourselves, with others, and with our ancestors, recent and distant. Weaving is part of our ancestral DNA and when we allow our fingers to interlace thread with thread, we create connection and foundation. Weaving does not have to be expensive, and weaving should be accessible to all people. If we can apply resistance to threads and create a taut warp, we can weave.

I love the long arc of weaving and the incredible potential it affords. One can sit with a simple frame loom and weave wild art pieces as well as work on a multi-harness floor loom and create wondrous and complex fabric. There are so many types of weaving and looms. Multi-shaft, tapestry, backstrap, pin, circular, inkle, Rinny Tin-Tin. Over the last decade, I’ve been teaching fiber art and craft in schools and more recently at the Shelburne Craft School, and there are some thought jewels that I’ve gathered along the way that fuel me, inspire me and make me want to keep learning and expanding. I’ve shared some of them here as a way of inviting anyone who has an inkling, to try out weaving, or any art or craft you’ve longed to try but keep putting off.

People Meet Themselves When They Weave

On many occasions, I’ve had the good pleasure of hearing people say things like, “I’m usually __________ (fill in the blank), but I’m playing with being __________ (fill in the blank) as I weave this” … or “I’ve never played with so much color before and I LOVE it!” …, or “I never realized how much tension I hold in my hands” …, or “the process of weaving while I reflect on my loved one is bringing up thoughts and feelings I’ve not held space for in so long, if ever.”

When we let ourselves just be with our hands, our eyes, and our breath as we make, our spirit has a chance to catch up and settle into the space between our lungs and in all the chambers of our heart. We can hear our own breathing again. We can let our eyes linger where they want to, and then notice where that is. We can meet our inner judge and talk it down from fear. We can usher ourselves into new territory and have woven fabric to show for the journey.

People Benefit from Having Access to Colors and Textures and the Opportunity to Experiment

This may sound so obvious it’s laughable, but hear me out. Have you ever had the experience of being invited to make something, and are given a certain set of materials that everyone else has, and a series of instructions that everyone else has, and you make something at the end that looks like a weird, kind of close but disturbingly not-close version of the thing you were supposed to make? Or is that just my life? In my experience, nothing botches up creativity more than when we are in a circumstance that doesn’t let us feel and see our way through materials we want to touch and witness. I’ve been blessed with a bunch of students who “go rogue” on the regular. It’s hilarious, and it’s shown me that people have their own ideas and their own version of learning that needs to be honored and allowed for as much as possible. Yes, sometimes technical truths need to be thrown in the mix to ensure that people can weave the thing they want to weave, but I’ve learned that creative drive is strong and shouldn’t be stamped out by rigidity.

People of All Ages Need to Play

I think we all know this intuitively, but what I’ve found is that people of all ages need access to opportunities where they can experiment, follow their noses, see what happens, try this and that, on low-stake projects. As we age, many of us become concerned with how much things cost, how much “time is worth”, how useful something is, and whether there is value to whatever it is we are doing. It puts so much pressure on the creative part of ourselves that just needs a freakin’ minute to look at things, try things out, observe what happens when certain materials interact with others, and take notice of how we feel about what we are seeing and experiencing. We need the chance to just be and drop in to our flow. When teaching elementary aged people as well as folks in their senior years, I’ve heard many exclaim, “Oh wow, I get to use this?” and, “I can’t believe I can weave with all of this! It’s so much fun!”

That makes my day.

My friend and weaving teacher, Lausanne Allen, playing the fiddle while guests learned to braid using the Kumihimo method during an event at the Shelburne Craft School.

Weaving Can Be Very Simple and Very Complex

I’m hitting home runs here with obvious statements, but it’s worth saying that weaving is, at its most basic, the process of moving one material over and under and over and under another material. That’s it. Simple as that. From that foundation, we can weave the most complex and wondrous images and textiles imaginable. But it all starts with interlacing whatever it is we are weaving with. Isn’t that marvelous? Weaving is for everyone. It can be taught to people as young as nursery school age, and there is no age limit. In fact, weaving can help those dealing with the effects of stroke, dementia, and Alzheimer’s disease, as it has been shown to strengthen and encourage neuroplasticity in the brain.

When We Get to Do Things We Love, We Are Living the Universal Dream

Disclaimer: This is my view based on a whole lot of things. Feel free to take it or leave it.

If we are doing what we love at least sometimes, we can experience ourselves and share with the world our inherent gifts. There are no losers in this set-up. (Of course, I’m assuming that doing what we love doesn’t include hurting other people or living in a way that disregards others’ autonomy and integrity.) When we share what we love with others who are interested, we are giving from the place of our truest selves, because what we love is connected to who we are; the spark connected to our creativity is born from energy itself, and it interlaces with others’ creativity, like a cosmic dance. It’s amazing!

Whether it’s weaving, dancing, sculpting or singing, writing, building or baking (the list goes on and on), if we love what we are doing and sharing it with others in some way, we are putting some good energy into the world. And my friends, the world needs that big time.

Doing what we love = good medicine.

I hope whatever you are doing today includes you sharing the spark you have with the world in whatever way feels great to you. Until next time.


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All of it is Always Happening

I’m having a moment of just sitting for a bit and wanted to document here in this special place to me all of what is happening in my own little sliver of life that is housed in the much bigger picture. But first, I have to send out a deepest call of love to all of those in Turkey and Syria whose world literally just opened up beneath them, creating chasms of pain, fissures of searing heartache, and images of the most incredible grief, courage, love, determination, and exhaustion one can see. Nothing seems all that relevant in the face of that except love. It’s really the only thing that matters at the end of the day.

Actually, I think I’ll just leave it at that.


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The Long Grief Journey

I can’t believe it’s finally happened, but this week I received a box of books, all of them The Long Grief Journey: How Long-Term Unresolved Grief Can Affect Your Mental Health and What You Can Do About It. In spring of 2020, my friend Pamela Blair who co-wrote I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye and is the author of several other titles, asked if I’d be interested in writing a book about long-term grief. I wrote about that moment here. And now, a month before its release (on February 14, 2023), I get to hold it and read it and show it to people. Wow. What a trip!

It’s been a long time since The Long Grief Journey was picked up by Sourcebooks and I owe a debt of gratitude to the wonderful editor who saw the value in making our work available to people and helping us to shape it and edit it well- thank you Erin! In the last year, the waiting for the book to come to print was starting to make it all feel a little bit unreal, and a little scary and then a little disorienting- wait, we’re almost at the release date?! I need to get a new outfit or something! But now, holding the book in my hands, I remember it all: the first invitation to join Pam in the project, the jumping into researching and brainstorming and writing, rewriting and collaborating, submitting and waiting and hoping and praying and now… here it is. And I am proud. Grateful and maybe even a little bewildered, too. To be able to use my own grief experience while being honored by so many people sharing their stories with us has in many ways brought an intimacy and more open heart to my day to day than ever existed before. Maybe the word is humbled? My heart feels tenderized.

If you end up reading the book, I hope you find it useful. We really are all walking this road together.


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Weaving is Collective and Personal

I’m a member of the Vermont Weaver’s Guild and I participated in this year’s weaving challenge. It was to make a pillow using three of the four elements randomly assigned to each weaver who entered. I got overshot, cotton, stripes and black and white. I chose the first three elements because nowhere in my house is there a spot to receive a black and white anything, so that part was simple. One pillow is to be donated to the guild so it can be part of a sale that we have to raise money.

I’ve not been weaving for terribly long, and every time I learn a new thing, it feels like I have to relearn a bunch of old things, although I can say I’m noticing a growing ease with preparing a warp, getting it on the loom, setting the loom up and threading, so that is a good thing. I will share a story in another post about a fight I got into with my counterbalance loom with the absolute simplest warp/threading/tie up you can imagine just this week, but I’ll save that for later. For this pillow project, I opted to utilize the weaving class I was taking at Shelburne Craft School with Lausanne Allen to get help and support as I tackled the most complicated pattern and weaving structure I’ve done to date. The class was for weavers who have experience but are still actively learning and benefit from the guidance of a skilled and patient teacher.

I felt rather overwhelmed immediately with the overshot part of things, and how to add stripes to it, because I don’t know how to create my own patterns yet. I referenced Madelyn van der Hoogt and of course, Bertha Gray Hayes, and saw so many drafts I’d love to weave, but somehow, translating those into a pattern made me feel like I was swimming in too deep water- maybe it was resistance? Or confusion? Or just the simple fact that I need to dig in and study what size yarns go with what epi goes with what draft, etc., etc., and then color choice- oh man! It’s a lot to sort out! So… I kept getting stuck. Enter Lausanne, who showed me a wonderful pattern called Bertha’s Towels from Handwoven. I was like, boom… Cotton, check. Overshot, check-check. Stripes, bingo. I knew I could modify the pattern for the pillows I needed, and get a few towels out of the bargain as well, if I lengthened the warp. And from there I went.

What I loved about the process once I got out from under the stress of making a bunch of decisions about a weave structure I didn’t really understand yet was the toggling between community and self, community and self. During class and open studios, I shared close space with fellow students who I now consider friends. One was weaving a beautiful Krokbragd pattern on a rug warp; the other was approaching our school’s antique barn loom that was having new life breathed into it with all of the attention paid to her; that weaver has her own incredible story to tell about her experience, and she wove an absolutely gorgeous table runner using an overshot pattern. In the back weaving room, there were other wonderful weavers and friends working out their warps and weaving. The sounds of a working weaving studio are amazing- clanking, knocking, the occasional sigh, swear, muttering to self, the walking around and looking at others’ work when you’re so tweaked by threading, sleying and realizing a mistake. I’d have a moment where I’d meet myself and my own growth edge, exclaim some thing, get support and dive back in to my own mind and project.

It took a long time for me to weave three towels and two pillow covers (one side- I used a lovely muslin-esque type fabric for the back). The flow of overshot and the pattern itself requires complete attention, pretty much the whole time. I think I finally internalized the pattern by the middle of the second to last towel I wove and it started to make sense to me, how it all worked. And wow, as the fabric became reality, I couldn’t believe what I was making. It was so much fun to problem solve selvedges and beats, fixing mistakes and troubleshooting loom peculiarities with Lausanne and my weaving partners. And it was heartening to meet, yet again in this weaving passion I’ve found myself in, my own growth edges and how I deal with them- it’s not pretty all the time, that’s for sure, but I know that I can move forward now towards pattern design- not with ease, but maybe with less trepidation? I mean, I’m in no rush… we’ll see.

The pillow for my house
The gold towel actually follows the pattern; the salmon and blue, I wove the pattern without doing the plain weave stripes or changing colors.
The pillow for the guild


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New Project on the Loom- Trying My Hand at Making a Slitrya Blanket

Finally… a project is on my floor loom. Well, not entirely. Threading is still in the queue, but with the help of Lausanne, I got the close to four and half yard warp wound on without too much trouble. There was one moment when it seemed the whole thing might become a bit more cumbersome when the rod attached to the back beam was found to be uneven, but with some tinkering, it was straightened out. I also think I finally came to understand the relationship between the pattern width, the width of the raddle sections, and the numbers of threads in each bout of the warp. For some reason, the relationship between these things has never fully clicked. I was making my warp bout size more about the total number of ends and the way to split it up as evenly as possible without the bouts being too big. I never even considered the raddle. I remember when I had to take statistics in college… I was in the second semester of it, which meant that presumably, I understood all the stuff I learned in the first class. This one day, I just could not at all, in any way, grasp what the professor was saying. To this day, I remember more his glorious, curly hair that the Florida humidity had fun with, rather than the stats itself. Doing some homework after class, I slammed into a wall of confusion and had to get some space from the claustrophobia of my own limits. I sat on a bench outside of the library, that building in which I spent most of my time, other than my own apartment. I just let my mind drift and then the concept I was struggling with came to me, like a fresh breeze on a stifling hot day. I got it! I remember I jumped a little and wanted to yell to someone… anyone, “Did you see what just happened in my head!” I didn’t. I just went upstairs and completed my homework with ease, enjoying my newfound insight. I feel like that’s what happened yesterday, thanks to Lausanne (again!).

  • All those ends, waiting to be threaded.
  • I love the smell of wooly yarn. Just seeing it laid out properly like this is comforting to me. It’s sticky, for sure, and needed a bit of coaxing to stay opened up around the lease sticks, but it all worked out.

The pattern is called Lillebror Slitrya and is from the Handwoven Nov/Dec 2020 issue. I’m very excited about it. I’ll keep you posted on progress as I make my way towards actual weaving. With the extra warp, I’ll play, play and see what happens!


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Weaving and Fiber Arts are Coming Back to the Shelburne Craft School!

Something very exciting is happening here in Shelburne, VT, of the fibery, weavy, yarny brand. On this rainy Memorial Day Monday, I’d love to share the news with you.

A couple of months ago, I received an email from the director of the Shelburne Craft School, a wonderful woman named Claire, letting me know that they were bringing weaving back to their programming. Oh my… she had me right there. It was an incredibly welcome email to receive for reasons big and small. In it, Claire explained some of what she was hoping to accomplish and asked if I would I like to talk. Truth be known, I would have jogged my pandemic-fatigued self to her right then and there, but I tempered that urge and like any mature grown up, set a date to meet in my studio nearby on a later date.

When we met, it was difficult for me to contain my enthusiasm. I listened to what Claire’s vision was and marveled at the fact that soon, Weaving and Fiber Art would be offerings at the Shelburne Craft School again. The school had a strong weaving program decades ago. I’m unclear as to why it was stopped. I’ve only heard whisperings about “the day the looms left”, or something like that. At any rate, as we spoke, I realized quickly that while I want to be a part of this most assuredly, I don’t have the weaving expertise to spearhead the vision coming to life. But, I thought of my weaving teacher, Lausanne Allen, who has more expertise in her pinky nail than I’ll ever hope to achieve in my lifetime. I let Claire know I’d be in touch with Lausanne we’d see what unfolds.

Well… receiving Lausanne’s response to my inquiry as to whether she could imagine taking on developing a weaving program at the craft school was probably the closest I’ve come to that feeling you get when you hurriedly open a letter from a someone you’ve missed terribly, or the results of some test… I sped read it and laughed out loud and read it again more slowly… not only was she interested, but she was thrilled out it, too! I’d forgotten this, but Lausanne reminded me that she learned how to weave at the Shelburne Craft School in the 80s and right out of the gate, she had so many ideas and questions and wonderings…

A lot has happened since Lausanne and Claire met. Spaces have been cleared, looms that the school still had from the fateful time the weaving program shut down have been resurrected and Lausanne and I have brought in a couple of our own. The walls have been adorned with Lausanne’s incredible work and other weavings we’ve collected over the years. There’s been cleaning, oiling, de-rusting and untangling. Lausanne has done many hours of research and learning and acquiring of needed items for the school. And me? I get to be Lausanne’s… I don’t know what to call myself… helper? Assistant? Grateful-To-Be-There-Apprentice? I can tell you this: I feel pinch-myself lucky to be a part of this new development in my town, and am thrilled that Claire has the vision she does to bring back such an important part of not just our town’s history, but in my view, an integral part of the story of human making.

  • These are some images of the development of the space. Over the next month or so, I’ll introduce each of the looms and share the project that will go on them. We need to get some of them moving after their long hiatus from their purpose.
  • Thanks to my kids for helping to clean!
  • Heddle measuring!

If you are reading this with a particular interest in weaving and wonder when might things be lifting off ground at the school, I will be regularly updating you here. And of course, check out the Shelburne Craft School’s website to see all of their offerings. It’s a wonderful place to be, and soon the sounds of beaters beating, shuttles flying, bobbins spinning, and voices whispering to cloth will be filling the air and saturating the old wood of the historic building.


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What Color is a Temper Tantrum?

Well, hello… it’s been a while. How do we catch up after so much time? My last post was in July of 2020. Since then, I’ve become a homeschooling mom, I’ve started co-writing a book about grief that lingers beyond the time our culture demands is appropriate, I’ve barely knit or woven a thing except for a sweater, hat and booties for a soon-to-arrive little baby niece (oh, I cannot wait to meet her), and I’ve been riding the wave of pandemic life that is really pretty goddamned grueling.

Today at the store, I was double-masking it because I <heart> Anthony Fauci and he says it’s a good idea in some instances. But the second mask I had on was too big and every time I looked down into the bag I was filling, it would scooch up into my eyes and I couldn’t see a freaking thing. This was after I couldn’t help my son with his math because maybe I skipped that class? And, it was after I took a good look at what’s happened to my hair since my last real haircut & color about a year and a half ago, maybe two. So… the mask thing almost, almost made me have a temper tantrum right then and there in the middle of my neighborhood grocery. Why? Not because that’s been the most stressful thing to happen of late. Not even close. Like any good old-fashioned tantrum, they are born from buildup. An accumulation of things that exceed the nervous system’s capacity to metabolize stress. Finally there is the last straw. Usually that poor straw is puny, so to the casual observer, it just looks like someone is losing it over the “dumbest thing”. But it’s never like that. It’s just a dumbest thing that tips the scale too far into Freakoutsville. Today, my last straw was having a mask on my mouth and on my forehead at the same time. Thankfully, I did have enough self-control left in my un-Buddhalike-self to realize I could not handle an embarrassing scene over the decision I myself made about my own mask attire. Maybe it was the dude giving me side-eye as I kept adjusting and readjusting the civic duty gone wrong on my face. “What? Didn’t you see this is how we’re supposed to do it now, bro?”, I imagined challenging him while he slowly and cautiously unloaded his groceries onto the conveyor belt. As much as I wanted to blame some concrete thing, or even Side-Eye Guy for my situation, I knew there was no one but me who could pull it together. After I fumbled through the credit card machine process and then remembered to be grateful for what I have, I gathered my bag of frozen corn and peas and package of chicken, and made my way home.

I miss my people. It hurts something fierce. And my heart is breaking for the millions who are grieving those they lost in this last year. Whether loved ones died from COVID-19 or from something else, no doubt about it, the rituals and rhythms that are built into the fabric of who we are, and which hold survivors in their grief, were experienced very differently because of the pandemic. No matter where we live, what we believe, and who we wish to when we ask for anything in our quiet moments, all who have lost someone are part of a new group. This group has its own stories, memories, symbols, anguish and wisdom that are making up history as we live it. I guess it’s easier to get wicked mad at a mask poking me in the eyes than reckoning with global pain sometimes.

Anyway! Sorry to be a downer, but this is why I haven’t written! Who needs more people talking about how much things have sucked? I do want to share some things though, to cross the bridge back to my love of all things yarny, wooly and textured. I have a new studio space where my looms and most of my yarn reside. This development came to be after I had to close my tiny office in Burlington in the spring. I realized pretty quickly into the pandemic that it’d be a good long time before anyone would be wanting to meet in person again, at least in the space I had, and serendipitously, an opportunity arose at the Shelburne Pond Studios that was basically completely perfect for my varied needs as a therapist, fiber artist/crafter, writer and now momentary homeschooler. It has also allowed for me to unclog parts of my home that housed all of what I’ve collected for my fibrous passions over the years. Blessings on many fronts with us home all the time. I am starting to imagine spring, summer and fall there, and all the sorts of things I might be able to do inside and out with other “masked” people who want to create and play with yarn. I can feel the energy coming back and that is exciting. There’s going to be a lot to weave out of our bodies and our nervous systems as we try to make sense of all that has happened and continues to unfold.

I wonder what a woven temper tantrum looks like?