Following the thread of a thought

page one ~ from, The Illustrated Glossary of Dye Plants

page two ~ from, The Illustrated Glossary of Dye Plants

page three ~ from, The Illustrated Glossary of Dye Plants

In retrospect, I probably should have named this playful compendium

The Imaginary Illustrated Glossary of Dye Plants

or

The Illustrated Imaginarium of Dye Plants

for I don't believe this will ever be anything but a little book

that lives solely in my mind, produced for a bit of fun on Instagram.

But I suppose it's been good practice should I decide at some juncture

to try my hand at the real thing ...

Along another line of thought, the title of this post is not original to me.

I'm sure I gleaned it from jude at Spirit Cloth at some point and

I sincerely hope she is given fair credit & attribution from others

for all she offers there.

This is a sore subject with me at the moment ...

the *borrowing* - no, let me speak plain - the stealing

 that I read and see running rampant on the internet amongst

artists, creatives, workshop organizers

and a whole host of wannabes, coat tail riders and ladder climbers.

It's a double-edged sword out here on the web; the need & desire to share work

counterbalanced by all those who are watching, researching,

and will so blatantly 

rip others off

in

a

 heartbeat.

Is it really so hard to come up with one's own original words or works?

Is it that difficult to ask permission first?

Or to put some dedicated energy

into coming up with personal work that is truly authentic

and not just a blatant copy of someone else's work?

I've seen this rampant in the world of photography for years

and now sadly, I see it running rampant amongst the cloth dyers

[eco-dyers, eco-printers, contact printers, natural dyers, and many stitchers],

a tribe I am somewhat new to and a little on edge about of late ...

it's incredibly disheartening.

And I'm feeling the need to take care.

::::

I have no intention of getting into arguments with folks over this subject

and I'm half inclined to close the comments section because of it,

but there are some friends who visit here who I don't want to silence

so I'll leave it open.

Talk to me.

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Her, with the camera

~ vintage photo, early version of stereo camera designed to take stereoscopic images ~

Do you remember your first?

I do.  It was a box Brownie, bright pink plastic and I thought it was the cat's meow.

That probably was the start of everything.

Later, during college years, I collected a hoard of old relics, stacked them

on a bookcase in my tiny studio and if they were lucky

I even dusted now and then ... similar to this collection below

although not near as tidy.

~ photo collection courtesy of Flickr ~

I've simplified since then and only "collect" online images of these antiquities

 - far less space involved & no cleaning required -
and the subject matter is mostly women  using  cameras.
Don't ask why that started cuz I just don't know.

But here's some favorites ... all females, using the *tool* of the day.

Where am I going with this?  I hope it will become clear in the end.
I'm thinking these pictures may be good food for thought because

these glimpses back in time could spark a few potent thoughts about  now.

In no particular order than just because I like them ...

~ Kodak girl, 1909 ~

~ Photojournalist, Margaret Bourke-White with her camera during WWII assignment,

Time Magazine. Favorite quote: "Work is something you can count on, a trusted,

lifelong friend who never deserts you." ~

~ Myrtle Lind, posed with Graflex camera, 1919, Library of Congress ~

~ American, Berenice Abbot, portrait behind a view-camera, early  1900s.

Specialized in architecture & urban street photography ~

~ Georgia O'Keefe with her new Leica, New Mexico, by Todd Webb ~

~ Jessie Tarbox Beals, pioneer photographer working Worlds Fair, 1904.

"Her trademarks were her self-described 'ability to hustle' and her tenacity in

overcoming gender barriers in her profession." First female night photographer. ~

~ Patti Smith, with one of her Land Poloroids, circa 1960s ~

~ Maiko girls (Apprentice Geisha) with camera, Japan, postcard mid 1920s ~

~ Documentary photographer, Dorothea Lange, working on 'Dust Bowl' series, circa 1936.

Favorite quote: "The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera." 

I've had a framed postcard of this image in my room for over 30 years - such spirit ~

~ Women holding Kodak cameras, Ideal Home Exhibition, 1971, Eastman Kodak 

eyeeee, the hot pants! ~~

~ Elizabeth Taylor with a Rolleiflex, photographer unknown ~

~ vintage photograph, little girl with her camera, circa 1910, from Flickr ~

~ Mary Ellen Mark, self portrait with Marlon Brando, 1979 (set of 'Apocalypse Now').

Known for in-depth documentary projects and portraiture - Time Magazine called her

a "humanist" photographer.  My teacher for one life-altering workshop, 1985. ~

~ Woman holding early Kodak camera, 1895. The camera was sold with

the film already loaded.  The entire camera was returned to the  factory

for film processing. Hulton Archive, Getty Images. ~

~ Diane Arbus, Central Park, 1969.  Noted for photographs of marginalized people.

Photo, Gary Winogrand ~

~ Climbing pioneer, environmentalist, and feminist, Miriam O'Brien Underhill,

Chamonix Aiguilles, France, 1929. To scale this center ridge she held her camera between

 her teeth.  She was the first woman to conquer the Matterhorn, along with other 

challenging peaks. On these treks she climbed only with other women - famously known

as "manless Alpine climbing." ~

~ Queen Elizabeth II and her Leica M3, circa 1958 ~

~ Imogen Cunningham, circa 1970s. Prolific American photographer known for

her botanical photography, nudes, and industrial landscapes.

Proponent of "sharp-focus rendition of simple subjects." ~

~ College girl recording her experiences in yearbook photos, date unknown ~

~ Margaret Bourke-White, top of the Chrysler Building, New York, NY 1935 ~

~ Edwardian woman, c. 1900. Possibly the world's oldest documented "selfie"

taken with a Kodak Brownie box camera ~

Which brings me back to the beginning of this story 

and that pink plastic Brownie camera ....

This morning I read a blog post by one of my favorite  male  photographers,

David du Chemin, called  'The Place of Craft.'  He always seems to arrive at the heart of

the matter, no matter what subject he chooses to speak about.  Now, although his post is

aimed at photographers - the craft of photography - one could replace that word with ANY

other artistic discipline and his thought provoking words could still be applied.

Here's why [aside from the fact that many of them produced incredible work]

I've put up a truckload of images of women using the cameras of their day,

and why the *tool* is not the point at all.

Not yesterday ... and not today.

Excerpt from du Chemin's post:

Make your art with the tool you have. Use a Polaroid or a RED camera. Use film or digital. Use Leica lenses or Lensbabies. Create abstracts and impressionistic studies of shape and colour, or stunning landscapes that are tack-sharp @ 400%, but don't kid yourself - it's not sharpness that makes it great. It never has been. Humanity doesn't need more sharpness. That is not one of the things for which we hunger. We hunger for beauty, and meaning, for stories, and for love - among other things, things that are communicated visually through light and composition - through our use of balance and tension and movement and scale and colour and a hundred other things that you can't buy in the B&H catalog, and won't be found in the manual of your new camera, no matter how much money you spend, no matter how much better your camera is than mine. We get it. Hell, every one of us has right now, at least one camera that's better than what every photographer who created a truly iconic image before the year 2000 ever had. You can make sharper, larger, cleaner images than any of them, together, ever made. And you know who cares?

: : :

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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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So much

There is so much to share, so much I want to tell you

about my recent travels in Scotland ...

about another wonder-filled masterclass at Big Cat Textiles,

tutored by India Flint to a roomful of generous hearted, spirit seeking women ...

about wanders into the wild Scottish landscape

botanizing all along the way ...

but

I'm not one to summarize quickly.

I need time

to let everything percolate,

time to allow the experience to sink into my bones.

~ Sunset light at low tide, River Tay, Newburgh, Fife ~

So for now I will leave you with a splendid poem from Maya Stein today,

one that captures quite beautifully

some of my feelings spending time along this river again.

Please enjoy.

And I'll be back before too long.

: : :

with summer still in their eyes

The sun was setting earlier than yesterday, and the cows

were uneventful.  The road would bring no more traffic

that evening.  Fifteen miles away, a town rested its tired arms.

The travelers were tired, too.  They cobbled dinner together

from the findings in a country store - iceberg lettuce, baked potatoes,

a wedge of local cheese - then slunk outdoors to catch the final light.

They each felt a scratch at their backs, a new season tapping its nails

against their thin shirts.  They knew this moment couldn't last.

And yet, with summer still in their eyes, they waited until the final rays

disappeared behind the mountains, until the stars arrived, like answers.

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Take me to the river ::: Being (t)here, with India Flint

"Have you ever had that feeling ~ that you'd like to go to a whole different place
and become a whole different self?"
~ Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

While I stood on the edge of that beautiful tidal river for the first time

 - the expansive and ever-changing River Tay in Newburgh, Fife -

I had many thoughts about being more than 4,500 miles from home;

how far away that was, continents separated by great bodies of water.

Still, THIS place, somehow, felt so familiar ...

This was Scotland.

And after a long wait filled with the ups and downs that life dishes,

I had finally made it to

this river.

Two things ahead were certain, I mused: the first,

I intended to have a grand adventure ... no suitcase was big enough

to contain that excitement !  And second, 

India Flint was teaching a textile master class called

'Being (t)here' 

which I knew would alter my perception of 'place' forever.

Although I wasn't exactly sure  how  she would do this

there was no doubt in my mind that she most definitely would.

Why was I so certain?

'Twas an enchanting video [view here] that I watched last year,
a culmination of India's three week residency at Big Cat Textiles

describing her impressions of the river ... showing how her work was
influenced, guided by landscape ...

as she described, "...infused with the indefinable, individual essence of place."

So we began ...

our next few days were a gentle process of mirroring all the attributes of this river

using the materials at hand;

watching and listening, sensing, observing, smelling,

but mainly  paying attention ...

slowing down enough, taking time for that to happen.

Thirteen of us from different parts of the 'whirled' were about to interpret

just what being t(here) meant.

I thought a lot about how in my own work I use photography as a way to illustrate

how a subject  feels ...  not necessarily rendering true to appearances, but

making my world look the way it looks to me.

Perhaps I could express something similar with cloth, paper, stitch, local plant dyes

and a collection of written words ?

Each day included much walking ... mainly alone,

although I was very happy to make the acquaintance of an adorable

dog friend who also happened to need time walking.

I was lucky - she knew quite a few back roads

and was ever eager for one more jaunt to the river ....
so I spent a good deal of time down there.

"All the technique in the world doesn't compensate for

the inability to notice."

- Elliott Erwitt, photographer

While the River Tay daily ebbed & flowed

we made a few ripples of our own in the local alleyway

[much to the amusement of local residents]

with the beginnings of our stitched concertina books ...

the first of several environmental displays we would assemble in the village

and as it turned out, a potent way to stay melded as a group.

As anyone who knows India a bit may have already surmised,
well, things don't stay white around her for very long ...

~ our paper books wrapped in hand stitched silk bags ~ 

Ecoprinting on paper was new for me and I had purposely avoided doing any of it on my own
beforehand, wanting instead to attend this workshop as a "clean slate" in that regard.
But it wasn't long before I fell under the spell of those paper marks, just like with cloth ...
swooning & exclaiming along with my class-mates over the gifts from Newburgh plants,
both subtle and bold.

~ folded paper fresh from the dyepot, still wet ~

The studio atmosphere was sublime for concentrated work ... the old stone walls of

the [former] church leant an air of solidity with the added advantage of providing

fine acoustics for the eclectic range of music India brought along.

I don't believe I have ever worked within

a more friendly, generous & supportive group of gals.

Many of us spoke of this phenomenon afterwards ... what a truly special group this was ...

somehow - given our diverse backgrounds & locations - a perfect mix of temperaments,

creativity, good humor, and all out camaraderie was shared & appreciated by each of us.

I miss you all !

[and I do hope we carry on with our "pinkie" agreement ... winkwink]

: : :

"Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you,

spend a lot of time with them and it will change your life.

No one is here today because they did it on their own.  You're all here

because someone gave you strength.  Helped you.  Held you in the palm of their hand."

- Amy Poehler, Harvard University commencement address

: : :

Part of our daily process was listening to verse & selections from great writers.

India provided a rich & varied mix,

reading softly to us for a few minutes each day.

Later, after writing our own impressions gleaned from the common experience of walking,

we read our chosen words aloud to the circle, each person's words

adding a unique cadence to the shared story.

Words from "accidental" poems written on my walks became new poems, reassembled.

This writing practice stayed with me throughout my journey through Scotland 

and has now come home with me ...

a powerful tool that I didn't even know I was in need of ...

~ torn scraps from one of my poems ~

Occasionally when something entertaining was happening with us below

we'd catch a little giggling from above.  These two sweeties, who run Big Cat Textiles

and Hat in the Cat [in Perth], took amazingly wonderful care of us during our stay ...

Alison [on right] fed us the most deliciously yummy healthful food - catering to 

all food restrictions, I might add - and Netti provided for any needs tossed in her path,

including places to lay our heads and doggy therapy.  Both went 

above and beyond the call of normal hosting duty

in every way.

Rockin' wonderful, the both of you !

~ Molly's flowers, morning inspiration, surrounded by class books ~

Book work progressed through many stages ... 

experimentation with useful mordants & clever solutions for resists,

unusual mark-making with found objects,

stitching with a wide range of thread sizes & types [Big Cat Textiles had lovely offers on hand],

and the addition of textile scraps ... silks, wool, lace & crochet.

The table displays at the end of each day were steadily growing more beautiful

and our bundle 'displays' in the village were sights to behold.

~ double exposure, India laying out bundles ~

~ below the Newburgh railway arch ~

As we neared completion of our river books

India presented us with one more surprise [our workshop was full of them, bless her] ...

an unexpected technique for felting a small blue "river,"

a long piece of textile goodness to tie around our finished books.

Having just attended Michel Garcia's indigo dye workshop the previous week,

India recycled the spent dye liquid [that which usually goes down the drain]

thinking perhaps it might still be useful ... and this was to be our color source.

We were thrilled to give it a try.

positive results and a very pleased dye master ...

Finished books in hand, we walked down together as a group

and joined our self-made rivers

with the great River Tay.

Seemed a supremely fitting way to draw our time together to a close,

by making this symbolic gesture.  I know I'm not alone when I confess

these were some very emotional moments.

I won't be forgetting this experience any time soon for not only

have I come home with new & important tools, I've brought home

a deeper understanding of how to *be* ...

Thank you, India.

xo

~ my river book ~

: : : 

The second day into our class, Maya Stein's weekly '10-Line Tuesday' poem arrived

via email.  I've included Maya's poems several times on this blog & made mention

of how often her words are completely perfect in their timing, apropos to life in that moment.

So it was with this one.

I'd like to make special note of it

for posterity ...

orientation

Just east of certainty.  A little south of courage.  A hair's

width from ease.  Clicks away from ready.  A turn

or two from acceptance.  A shuffle from faith.  A set of stairs

from achievement.  A riverbed from happiness.  A handspan from

peace.  A wink away from freedom.  A few lines until the poem's

done.  A highway, a night's sleep, a phone call, a touch, a rotation

of gears away from that certain yes that tells you where you are is

exactly where you need to be.  I know, the signs can look as if they're missing,

and the map so distant and unclear.

But I'm telling you, you aren't lost.  You're never lost.  You're always here.

: : :

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