One Small World

Driftwood from Squibnocket beach.

Beads from the Naschmarkt in Vienna.

Two worlds brought simply together.

Only Connect

Blessings on the tenderness that dwells within us.

Taking Shape

As is often the case with me and my work, I've stumbled into something. I wasn't looking and fell right into it. My favourite process, really. It's a simple start, but as I quite often contest, those simple steps, when walked consistently, can lead you into interesting new territories.

Last year, I created a machine and hand embellished cotton gauze rectangle. After it sat around for a quite a while I cut it up into 8 squar-ish pieces. Those pieces have been hanging around for months, waiting patiently, with me giving them intermittent attention but no real action.

Last week, I noticed them, and they got dipped in encaustic medium and have been sitting around as waxed squares -- a little dazed and confused. Today they got stuck on the wall in a messy grouping because I've just been desperately trying to get out of 'square' mode. Then, not sure how it happened (kind of like a cavewoman rubbing two sticks together to create fire) I took a square off the wall and rolled it up (ugga!). I took the rest of the squares off the wall and rolled them up (ugga! ugga!).

So here they are, rolled up and ready for the next step.

They're still a little dazed and confused, but at least they're helping me realise that the world isn't flat.

It's in My Nature

A small inspiration to add to the natural environment of my studio.

Soul soother.

Possibility holder.

Simplicity, Silence, Solitude, and Repetition

I know the title of this post may sound like a nightmare to many people, but to me, it continues to be the grounding force of my work. I certainly get excited when I discover new tools, new materials, and interesting techniques that bring forth a burst of energy, and I'll continue to work in this way. There is, however, nothing more gratifying than returning to the quiet act of the simple stitch over and over again and the simple manipulation of a beautiful textile.

I say gratifying because it reminds me to be grateful; to be appreciative of the small, often less than noticeable things, moments, and people, in this life.  This way of working reminds me to pay heed to the fact that it is the small, repetitive gestures that build the large and the lasting, whether it be a work of art, a marriage, a home, a garden, a community.

Show up.
Be present.
Be patient.
Do the work.

Beauty arises.

Getting in Deeper

Things are getting interesting around here. I had a surge of 'mad scientist' yesterday and decided to get really experimental.

What was originally one of my silk neckpieces has now become a small relief sculpture on paper.

After needle punching and ripping areas of the silk, I dipped random sections in hot beeswax. Once that dried I then dipped other random sections in tea.

The tea stained sections turned out too to be too dark so I gently poured strong bleach over those. I wasn't sure what the outcome would be. As it turns out strong bleach eats away silk - a very interesting visual result (just pay heed if you try this on a favorite blouse).

I've been longing to go deeper into what I can do with the textiles but have felt a certain trepidation about how to go about it. For some reason I've not given myself permission and have been clinging on to some old ways of being, of working. Or, perhaps I'm just slow.

Whatever the reason, I'm so glad I found a fearless moment and took the plunge.

The deeper the better.

I'll Know It When I Get There

I used to work much differently than I do now.  I would, more often than not, see an idea finished in my head. Boom. I would usually sketch it out, pick my fabrics accordingly, and merrily sew my way to the end of a project.

I'm not sure what happened, but I can't work like that anymore. I just can't. It's sort of the feeling you get when you're in a relationship with a person who you know is a wonderful human being but just not your wonderful human being. It's painful, this ending of the relationship, but you know you have to go.

This means that I've basically started over. I'm a beginner in how I now work. I don't see finished projects in my head. I get glimpses of how to start - vision bursts - and then I begin. One foot in front of the other --usually very slowly. Experimental moment begets experimental moment.

Sometimes it's excruciating not to know the ending while in the middle (like I used to be able to do). It takes much more patience and much more trust. It's slower, and it feels incredibly vulnerable, like I'm wearing my insides on the outside. Ultimately, however, it's more satisfying.

Like my penchant for long, solitary walks, I get to wander deeply through my own creative process.

I'll know it when I get there.

The Art of Being Lost

I have a penchant for long, solitary, walks. Not just walks to exercise my body but walks to relax and open my powers of observation, to strengthen my awareness, and to satisfy my heartfelt need to wander.

I was in Bergen, Norway, the past few days. It's a lovely city. Perfect for wandering.

 

As I meandered through the historic streets and the nearby hills I continued to encounter randomly lost textiles. 

I began to feel a strange resonance with these items. It was as though being lost enabled them to experience life on their own after having been separated from what they were supposed to be.

I really like this notion --that if we allow ourselves to be lost in this way we're then able to experience our own path -- and perhaps receive a bit of surprising guidance along the way.