Minding my maps

Merriam-Webster defines  map :

1 a:  a representation usually on a flat surface of the whole or a part of an area

b:  a representation of the celestial sphere or a part of it

2 :  something that represents with a clarity suggestive of a map

~ the Freudian 'map' of the mind -- Harold Bloom

so I got to thinking ....

could photographs act just as easily as maps of a  life?

If I mapped myself, what might that look like?

And if I focused on, say, my creative life, would it be telling?

Could I show the route from back there 

to here?

So I gave it a try & here's where it led me ...

To the convergence of paper and books

to beads on cloth with an uncertain latitude

towards an elusive north star

with an ever present guiding light

and a dear navigator who teaches all the compass points.

Just a small smattering of map pages - old directions & new ...

so yes,  I can see how I got here

but perhaps the more important question is

just where am I going?

[ this is where a hushed voice offers, "Only the cartographer knows for sure..." ]

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Riversong :: Being (t)here, again ... with India Flint

I've had trouble writing about my recent time in Scotland.  I've been home

well over two months and I'm still struggling to find words

to explain that place, the people, and what happens for me when I am there.

It's proven difficult to describe how completely that country has stolen my heart.

Yes, the breath-taking scenery is a huge part of the equation, but all told
it is the breath it gives me back that keeps the calling acute.

When the thought first came to return this year and re-enroll in the 'Being (t)here' masterclass
tutored by India Flint and offered at Big Cat Textiles, I wondered
if maybe I was being a bit looney ...

yet in the end I felt I wasn't anywhere near done with spending time by the great River Tay.

So much good came from slowing down there, wandering along her banks with an eye
to detail and a heart set on paying attention.

I knew that although I'd be repeating a workshop I'd just recently taken

there was no way it would be the same.

By the completion of day one I knew this to be fact, for India
had taken what I'd thought was already a perfect course and bumped it up by a couple
dozen notches. This time around was going to be altogether different.

This little bell nudged us to attention innumerable times over the

five days together - I grew very fond of its sound.  Although I wasn't expecting to have
the company of so many pleasant classmates again, just like before these gals
were a splendidly supportive group who shared, inspired, cajoled, laughed
and even splashed about in a great deal of river mud,
all with immense amounts of joy ...

and this time there was also a great deal of singing!

A tidal river seems to me to have its own particular song, rising & retreating
as it does, like clockwork.  Add the voices of women who are happy to be (t)here
and the effect is close to sublime.  I'm not blessed with a singing voice
(those who know me well will know to find me singing in the car)
so I was especially moved by these impromptu choirs taking place
(even in the classroom).
Thank you all for that!

Hear for yourself.
Tracy McConnell-Wood made a lovely three minute video of our group mudlarking
and breaking into song:
Tay Tide Cairns

Newburgh is such a beautiful locale for giving oneself the permission to take time
for personal work.  There are ample opportunities for scenic walking ...

and for me, studying the ways of water ... exploring edges as I like to do.

Looking for ways to translate a notion of distance
or interpret a sensation of walking ...

You are a sage,

a river at its deepest

and most nourishing.

Sit by a river bank some time

and watch attentively as the river

tells you of your life.

~ from Lao Tzu ~

We ebbed and flowed in & out of the classroom not unlike the river's currents.

  Days were intense in meaningful and productive ways: Poetry was read and written,

bundles wrapped & dyed, mark-making explored & discovered, stitching techniques shared,

and all the while India responded to a thousand questions with patience & gentle humor.

We took breaks as we needed them. One of the delights was 'local shopping' ...

Alison & Jeannette, owners of Big Cat Textiles and Hat In The Cat (in Perth),

 look after the students in countless ways and I must admit

one of my favorites is all the lovelies they keep on hand for purchase.

That's the entry hall above which is chock full of vintage linens & clothes, 

baskets of hand-dyed yarn, roving, bits of this & that - everything useful for workshop supply needs

or to bring back home.  Some may have jumped into my suitcase.

There's even more in the adjoining studio ... racks of pre-loved clothing, beautiful finished

knitwear including cowls & socks made from local wool, countless notions

including buttons, trims, threads (many repurposed), even feathers; every kind of embellishment for

textile work that one might imagine.  I discovered last year that the displays can change daily

which makes it quite the dangerous place to wander through.

Sorry, is a wee bit blurry, gals ... sure we were giggling

and I shook the camera.

There they are - the special ladies who look after everyone so well.

Alison (on the left); thank you again for the glorious & nutritious meals;

Netti, thank you again for loaning the dog-less aunties your sweet Jazz

and for the comfy night's sleeps and car taxis ... and ... and ......

To you both: I sincerely appreciate the environment you've created that's so nurturing

and encouraging and filled with both of your good vibes - it doesn't get better than you two!

In the span of a week there were many walks taken down to the river

& ofttimes our dog pal led the way.  I'm quite fond of this image of India & Jazz

having a saunter one evening - one reason is that it shows off the quite incredible apron 

India wore to class.  If I remember correctly, I believe there was a collective gasp

when she first put it on ....

Look at the magnificent detail. 

Such a fascination has grown surrounding this garment, including a general clamoring to learn

the construction techniques, that now a workshop has been formed around it:

The Amuletic Apron

October 8-10, 2016

All the details over on the Big Cat Textile Masterclass Schedule

Student tables were looking more like museum collections by week's end. Some of the found

objects developed deeper meanings after being immortalized in poems or

used as utilitarian drawing tools.  Objects buried in the river scooped up at low tide

became special keepsakes to all of us.

~ student work ~

Perhaps because I'm in my 'older' years now, I'm especially appreciative of a tutor

who guides rather than directs; who presents options & inspiration rather than 

written in stone how-to's.  The voyage of discovery then becomes no one else's but my own.

It's more personal because I've found my own way of stepping through a process,

one that suits my own hands, my own particular way of seeing, and my own heart.

Thank you, India, for that freedom.

So it went.

(t)here on one of my favorite seats in the entire world I whispered a farewell

to the Tay ... "See ya later, my friend."  I always say it that way when I don't want to say "goodbye"...

always to people I'll miss and I guess now, even to rivers.

   

Then I photographed the lichen patch growing on the wall just off my right shoulder

so I could compare the growth rate from now to when next we meet.

I won't be away for long, Scotland.  You have my heart.

:::

Night and day the river flows.  If time is the mind of space, the

River is the soul of the desert.  Brave boatmen come, they go,

they die, the voyage flows on forever.  We are all canyoneers.

We are all passengers on this little mossy ship, this delicate

dory sailing around the sun that humans call the earth.

Joy, shipmates, joy.

~ Edward Abbey,  The Hidden Canyon - A River Journey ~

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Alchemy in the pantry

It all began 423 days ago.

I gathered together these assorted fabric scraps [once all white] and without pre-mordanting,
rolled, bundled, squeezed and cajoled them into glass jars along with pieces of metal
and handfuls of vegetation.

Following the protocol within this little gem of a book,

'stuff steep + store' by India Flint,

I began a very  LONG  and interesting canning experiment ...

not only an experiment in patience [wasn't sure I could wait this long for the reveal!]
but in the science - and art - of preserving.

What would grandma say?
Go peek at what these jars looked like when I first put them on the pantry shelf
February 4, 2014 ...
over here

This is what they looked like right before I opened them two days ago.

The liquid had long since turned almost black.  They each contained iron bits 

so that made sense, but I wondered if I'd made a mistake & added too much.

Also, two of the jars had slightly rounded lid tops ...
were the contents rotting, or worse - putrefying into some gads-awful mess?

I need not have worried. And I should certainly know by now
that India speaks true words when she repeats, "Trust the process."

I flung them on the rosebushes in the hedgerow to dry.

There's often great changes between wet and dry so the short wait

to see that happen was almost worse than the entire previous year's wait.

Here they are dried and pressed.

Front & back views of 60/40 cotton/silk blouse remnant,

bundled with rose leaves & metal bolts

with 1/4 c. aged copper/vinegar modifier added to the jar.

[above on far right]

What amazes me: true spring green leaf prints, the smokey black-on-black tones

from the string marks, and that the liquid from the jar smelled faintly of rose petals.

Scraps of two cotton shirts each bundled with dry purple Norway maple leaves

and metal bits - nails & screws - with additional leaves packed around the edge of the glass.

The jar was then filled with leftover - very stinky - lobster mushroom dye bath.

[jar above in middle]

What amazes me: although the jar lid was "puffed up" there was nothing growing inside ...

no bacteria, algae etc. and the smell of lobsters had almost completely disappeared,

replaced by an earthy scent; the cuff, which took color like a sponge.

I've left my favorite jar for last ... although in my earlier post I forgot about

this linen hankie entirely because I stuffed it down the side of the jar

at the last minute as there was plenty of room left

next to the ripped up linen shirt jacket.

[jar above on left]

As for my favorite - the jacket piece - iron bolts

went into the jar bottom, then the cloth was bundled

with purple-black violas, madrone bark & 4 rusty landscape pegs.

Taking a precious cue from the book, I sprinkled a teaspoon of fireplace ash

into the mix.

What amazes me: navy blues from the violas, strong distinct graphics, heavy

saturation of color.  This is a very dense linen that was not pre-mordanted and I venture

to say with a great deal of certainty that I would not have been able to

achieve this result with a one hour boil-up and a bundle opening 3 days later ...

Alchemy in the pantry.  I am smitten.

: : :

There's a wealth of jars awaiting their openings over in India's virtual pantry ...
see everyone's experiments there
Click on 'The pantry' to view the collection.

So, WHO is next?
I'm so excited for the reveals!

Have been kicking myself that I didn't experiment with whole items of clothing
for although the wait was definitely worth it, the 'time price' we pay is quite hefty
and may as well yield more of a product than a torn sleeve & a color swatch, wouldn't you say.

Ah well.  Live & learn.  All valuable, all good.

But ... I'm off soon to find some large pickle jars!

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Madder madness

or - what  NOT  to do if you desire true red.

Dye day in the middle of winter ... what else could we expect?

We were not precise.  We did not follow protocol.

Fortune might favor prepared minds but when it came to trying this new dye source
our minds were  not  [prepared, that is] ... which actually seemed ok at the time.
Our main objective was just to play,

see what happened if we flew by the seat of our pants ...

Spelled out, to see what happened

if ... we didn't carefully weigh the correct amount of madder powder

if ... we didn't pre-mordant our cloth

if ... we didn't check the water pH

if ... we didn't use a thermometer to check dye bath temperatures while cooking.

Although the bath never did come to a boil [big no-no],

with a list like the above it's a wonder we achieved any pleasing color at all.

~ frontispiece silk blouse #1 ~

It was January

and like a pair of hooligans with only a couple of hours to spare before the pub closes,

we went about things a bit wildly, bypassing [most of] the well-published rules ...

we prepped our dye pot mainly on a couple whims, a few educated guesses

and several generous splashes of laughter.

Obviously, this was not the recipe to follow

if the color one is after is anything akin to true royal  RED.

Dyeing with madder has a rich and ancient history and although we were intrigued,

the desire to 'wing it' won out in the end.

We were short on time and long on laissez faire.

Maiwa provided useful background info over on their site:

Madder – Rubia tinctorium, Rubia cordifolia, and Morinda citrifolia is one of the oldest dyestuffs. It is frequently used to produce turkey reds, mulberry, orange-red, terra cotta, and in combination with other dyes and dyeing procedures can yield crimson, purple, rust, browns, and near black. The primary dye component is alizarin, which is found in the roots of several plants and trees. Madder is cultivated and grows wild throughout India, South East Asia, Turkey, Europe, South China, parts of Africa, Australia and Japan. 
Madder is a complex dyestuff containing over 20 individual chemical substances. 
Alizarin is the most important because it gives the famous warm Turkey red colour. But also present in this wonderful plant is munjistin, purpurin, and a multitude of yellows and browns. Madder is dyed at 
35-100% wof [weight of fabric] for a medium depth of shade.

Our first lesson of note is contained in that last line about weight of fabric:
next time, for deeper shades, we definitely need to add more madder.
[L. brought back quite a hefty bag of powder from her recent travels
so we have plenty for another go ...]

~ silk blouse #2, no iron, bundled around copper ~

So although in principle I am not adverse to toasty apricot, salmon-pink,
or something resembling a mango chutney,
I'd like to accomplish a deep luscious red

someday ...

~ silk blouse #3, iron bits inside bundle, folded like a sandwich with native madrone ~

~ concentrated color in dry-down marks ~

After-the-fact research on this dye stuff has been fascinating, while some of the
best examples of color comparison I found online were those done on wool yarn -
which, as it happens, depends heavily on the use of mordants.

~ photo credit: Brush Creek Wool Works ~

I chanced upon this comprehensive blog post,  'Madder, in Many Ways'
over at  Sea Green and Sapphire ...
some excellent photos there showing the multitude of hues & tones that can be achieved.

Since I'm most interested in dyeing silks, my road to hoe may differ somewhat
but I won't know how much until further experimentation.

The historically acclaimed light-fast and wash-fast properties of this plant dye
certainly hold much appeal.

~ Rubia tinctorum, courtesy of Wikipedia ~

Next time we'll put ourselves in a more "scientific" frame of mind

before setting out ...

and in the meantime, if anyone stopping by here has a suggestion or two to offer,

my most appreciative ears are wide open.

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Steady on

My last night in Scotland, a very diligent effort was made

to wash every trace of mud from my boots.

Never have they been so clean

as when I had to travel with them!

But it was the right thing to do and although some twinges of nostalgia

crept in for good times mucking about in that great River Tay,

better the remnants gurgle down the guest house drain

then land me in trouble with inspectors on the Other Side.

Since returning home, my head's been down so to speak.  Not too much blogging

yet slow & steady work has been afoot nonetheless.

A determination came home with me; a drive to better understand a few things,

conduct a few experiments, and to continue finishing the great pile of unfinished. 

A good deal of time has been spent

encouraging color from plants

exploring through failures and leaps of faith

without really knowing where all of this is going.

I'm putting trust in the process, following my intuition,

doing the work without knowing the outcome

because the work will take me where I need to go.

I don't need to know right now where that is.

~ inside the glasshouse, Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, Scotland ~ 

Back in August, I began to post [almost] daily to my Instagram gallery ...

What started out as inspiration from Susannah Conway's daily prompts for August Break

has become a regular editing practice that's proven so valuable, I continue still.

In the beginning it was a way to post a somewhat unruly backlog from the Scottish adventures

but it's become so much more. My addiction to photo apps has found a comfortable outlet

where play, practice - and sometimes downright outrageousness - can be shared

with fellow picture makers.  I learn so much from them.

The creativity within the Instagram community as a whole

is nothing short of astounding.

Remember these?

Slow & steady work is happening within the pantry shelf jars, lots of changes over time.

Seven months and still counting ...

I'm oddly amused to not be feeling the least bit impatient

to view the results.  An indicator, surely,

of a certain kind of faith.

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