Thought I’d share a compilation of things I’ve been thinking about and doing this last week. Some make me smile. Some make me think. Some make me cry. Some make me feel gratitude. Some a mixture of all of those things.
I got to participate in this art show along with fellow fiber artists, potters, painters, and woodturners. What a wonderful thing! There is something uniquely powerful about putting your work out there for others to see. The camaraderie I feel with my fellow makers who are in this show is really nice. Makes me proud.
I had to cancel, very last minute, a Community Weave event at my studio because I got wrecked by an allergic response, either to an antibiotic or a new-to-me face/body cream. It looked like I got punched in the eye, and I had welts all over my body about 48 hours ago. Not cool. Much better now.
I finished a prototype for a larger series I am getting working on… it’s hard to see in this picture, but it’s a woven tube made of linen, adorned with flax, wool, jute, with a beautiful antler hanging in the middle… better images to come…
Wrapped up a fabulous class at the Shelburne Craft School- this was explosively fun and very co-creative and inspiring! Weaving with minimal rules, natural materials, and instinct frees up a whole lot of space in my psyche. Sharing that with others was a true joy.
Read through journals I’ve been keeping since high school, looking for lyrics I wrote for a song I love playing… man, that’s a trip. Never found the lyrics to that song. Did find lyrics to another song I wrote but didn’t put down the chords… what the shit? So, reworking that one. But, I did find this… a realization that I’ve been hard at work being-a-person for a long time… thinking, creating, examining, striving, loving, fearing… I often think of my younger self as kind of a hot-mess, and don’t get me wrong, I had my drawn-out hot-mess moments for sure (still do!), but I think I’ve been unkind to the younger me that was just learning how to grow up in the midst of living. Those days are over. I suddenly see myself very differently, not as pre- or post- hot-mess, but rather as a long story. Just like anyone. This shift has been medicine.
Listened to (We Don’t Need This) Fascist Groove Thang on repeat, a cover of Heaven 17’s original version. Got inspired by the artists that use their medium to say “NO!”.
Spent a lot of time with my dog who seems to know I’ve not been feeling well.
Learned that there are so many plants in my yard that are medicinal and I am now going down a rabbit hole of studying them… reading about “weeds” that heal ailments has me reconsidering what a weed actually is.
And, I think that’s it for now. There’s so much going on, so much to respond to, metabolize, and critically think through. An endless well of compassion, empathy, fortitude, and courage is needed. And honesty. And self-reflection. Most everything I’m making these days has something to do with living and dying and the cycle of these opposites that shape our existence and our choices.
This is my first year joining the Vermont Crafts Council Open Studio Weekend. I’ve always wanted to participate but never could get it all together at the right time. I brought my outdoor loom over today and have been polishing things up as I prepare for this event. My studio is in Loop 3 along with fellow artists in Shelburne, Richmond, Charlotte, and Hinesburg! I wish I could go to all of their studios, too!
To see what this event is all about and get your maps and figure out your routes, go the Vermont Crafts Council website here. More to come about the event in the coming weeks.
I dropped off the pieces I made for the Interwoven fiber art exhibit yesterday. Walking away from things I made was an interesting feeling I’ve not had much experience with. It was both exciting and nerve wracking! I kept turning back, looking at them laying where I left them, as though I needed to say goodbye a couple more times. Or maybe just a little more fiddling, straightening, adjusting… I think it’s because each of the pieces that will be in the show was a meditation on some issue I think about or am currently wrestling with. So really, what I was leaving in someone else’s care was the physical evidence of an emotional process.
I am delighted to be in the show with three other incredible artists. What a boon!
Here is the invitation to the Opening! If you’re in the area and have an interest in fiber art, come on down!
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.
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 houseThe 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
Healing Handcrafting 