The window as a metaphor

Following the thread of a thought brought on

by this morning's post to Instagram, I made a curious discovery;

I discovered that since my very first post on IG in 2014

I've posted a total of 14 images related to  the window.

Just what is it about them I find so intriguing?

~ view into the woods right after dawn, posted August 2017 ~

A quick hop to googleland took me on a merry journey exploring symbolism.

There was this article in particular, 'Windows: Exploring the History of a Metaphor' by

H. J. Krysmanski

“The ‘window’ metaphor has a long career in the history of art and, in fact, in the evolvement of the human perspective in general.” 

It's long, but comprehensive, with a thought-provoking list of subtitles to choose from:

The Evolution of the Window

The Evolution of the Window Metaphor

Source of Eternal Light: the Gothic Cathedral

Renaissance: the Appearance of the Screen

Light on Privacy: the Windows of Jan Vermeer

Window Dressing: Staging the Theatrical Stage

Through the Looking Glass: Virtual Reality in Victorian England

Space and Time: the Epistemology of Screening and Framing

The Eye: Mirror and Window of the Soul

The Window Metaphor in Islamic Culture

The Window Metaphor in Buddhism and Confucianism

Walls of Glass: the Essence of Architecture

Modern Painting: in Defense of the Classical Screen

‘Peep Show’ and ‘Fensterln’: Folklore of the Windows Experience

Window Shopping: the Commodification of Desire

The Window Metaphor in Modern Science

Journeys through Space: the Cinema Screen

Surveillance: Monitoring the Radar Screen

Archaeology of the Computer Screen

How ‘Windows’ Chanced To Become A Registered Trade Mark

~ bedroom window overlooking the wild Atlantic :: Isle of Harris, Scotland, posted August 2017 ~

So what if I just compile all my windows here, as a group? ... ALL of them

in the order they were posted starting with this morning's, working back thru time.

I'd like to see what their collective voice may have to say.

~ better than the movies, posted February 2017 ~

~ sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean, west Cork, Ireland, posted October 2016 ~

~ first crack, posted September 2016 ~

 "It doesn't interest me if there is one God or many gods.

I want to know if you belong or feel abandoned.

If you know despair or can see it in others.

I want to know

if you are prepared to live in the world with its harsh need

to change you.  If you can look back

with firm eyes

saying this is where I stand ..."

~ from 'Self Portrait' by David Whyte, posted June 2016 ~

~ after a big swim, posted December 2015 ~

~ sometimes it takes darkness, posted April 2015 ~

~ threshold :: St. Conan's Kirk, Scotland, posted November 2014 ~

~ seasonal changes afoot :: watching rainclouds mass, posted September 2014 ~

~ 9:05 a.m. on 9/05/2014, posted September 2014 ~

~ first evening in Edinburgh :: view at twilight, posted August 2014 ~

~ my friend's house :: needs a wee bit of housekeeping, Newburgh, Scotland, posted July 2014 ~

~ self :: riding the wind, posted April 2014 ~

:::

straight photography,

app-ed photography;

the real, the imagined, the wished for

... the simple 'what was there.'

“Above all, though, windows have permitted man to experience the essence of light, from Chartres Cathedral to the paintings of Vermeer, and to this day even their most mundane use implies some sort of interaction with the unknown and with infinity.”

I don't mind keeping the question open for now.

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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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She can't eat what?

Sometimes your body screams at you so loud 

there is no choice but to listen

and take heed.

I've long held the belief that the majority of modern day ailments in

Western society are, without a doubt, strongly linked to what we eat.

Or don't eat in some cases.

In the last 10 years or so I've had this belief put to the test within my own framework a

time or two, and if my current health adventure provides the same positive results that I

was blessed with before, I shall be kicking up my heels quite well thru this decade.

You know that expression about making lemonade, right?

A short tale follows ....

While over in America the other day (that's what we islanders call the mainland)

I found myself driving around in circles.  Was a hot day (for here), just past 80F, 

and I had my dear woofie with me in the car.  She loves to travel so she goes 

with me whenever possible.  Anyhoo, on this particular afternoon I was taking

care of some body testing & adjusting and my fluffy one was in need of

a cool place to be parked while I was otherwise detained.

Hence the driving in circles.

Finally, rounding a corner somewhat near a park, I spotted a wide leafy stretch

of available curbside underneath the most magnificent trees.  I was gonna

have to walk a fair bit to my destination, but the deliciously cool shady spot for my 

dear fluffy one was absolutely worth the trek.

As I got out of the car and looked up to actually identify the gorgeous 

canopy we were parked below, I stopped dead in my tracks.

For there we were underneath two enormous black walnut trees

which happened to be dropping all their fruits over sidewalk & parkway

in great profusion.

Now the backstory to my stopping dead in my tracks is that last year

I looked high and low for one of these trees because I wanted to try my hand at

brewing some black walnut dye - deep, dark, tannin-rich goodness.

I asked around amongst all my island friends - and they of their friends - and

even went so far as to place an ad in the local online news rag ...

"Who's got trees??"

Nada.  None to be found.

Some suggested I go to eastern Washington where they're farmed in abundance

and then there was the ever present option of mail-order.  But I was keen for local so I

finally put my little dream on the back burner & moved on to something else.

So this particular day, which could very easily have been viewed as one filled

with one lemon after another, suddenly had me grinning like an idiot on the roadside,

chuffed to no end that this part of my particularly grueling adventure had brought me to

the very trees I'd been seeking for so long.

All this to say (in my somewhat roundabout sort of way) there will be

a slight delay to my next posting of the  52 weeks : bead sketches  installment.

I've been somewhat sidetracked by the inner voices so I'm more than a wee bit behind

although my iron cauldron is gratefully, now quite full.

I'll be calling this my black walnut "lemonade."

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bead sketches : month five

Bead sketching in May was like wrestling a dragon.

But then, most everything in May felt like a wrestling match.

Here, all of nature seems to "wake up" at this time of year ... spring  positively explodes ...

and most afternoons I find myself wondering just how I'm going to fit in a nap between 

all the items on my long list of tasks.

Bone weary might be an apt description.

Those are the moments when the strong commitment I made to this project

becomes its own guiding force,  nudging (sometimes shoving) me to the beading table

while the other half of me feels like she should be outside accomplishing x, y, or z instead.

From assembling the base, gathering the materials, stitching layers of cloth,

solving how-to-attach-objects issues, then onto the bead embroidery itself,

each sketch requires between 6 - 8 hours to complete.

This is a relatively small amount of time in a week, all things considered.

But I've realized that if I didn't place value on the process of doing this project

- if I hadn't vowed to myself to show up and do the work no matter what -

I would be allowing a million other things to pull me away.

Excuses are easy.

So here is May.  Duly wrestled.

~ Local skies were lit with dancing lights early in the month so I wondered if I

could illustrate my own perception of them with some over-the-top bead stacks ~

~ Circles of friends; how imperfect they are with their loose threads .... 

how simply they can unravel without care & attention ~ 

~ What happens to the tons of used clothing we as consumers donate or "recycle"?  Much of it 

 makes a voyage overseas ... the somewhat disturbing afterlife of American clothes ~

~ From my collection of purposeless vintage keys (keys with unknown or missing locks),

not suited for much now except for illustrating idioms like this perhaps ~

: : : :

To view all of the  52 weeks : bead sketches  posts, starting with the most recent,

 CLICK HERE

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bead sketches : month four

April's quartet ...

which felt more like a kind of poem evolving than a

weekly exercise in making;

more like a continuous thought that moved quietly from

one color palette to the next - which I will explain further 

at the bottom of this post.

Without further ado ...

Once again I'll note the source, or the word prompts, or where my inspiration came from

below each photograph (with links, if applicable).    

~ New beads! called 'Rose Petals,' which started as an exploration of mandalas but grew into

a green study revolving around this term  ~

~ I wondered how I might create a different twist on an old tradition ... ~

~ Off-loom bead weaving can be an incredibly meditative activity & a welcomed mental state of

mind it was this month, so I included a short journey with the freeform version of

this stitch in order  to practice mixing bead sizes & shapes  ~

~ In March of 2015, I had rather an amusing *failed* attempt at dyeing with madder and only

achieved apricot colors.  Since then the shade has grown on me & I've wanted to use some of

that cloth in a beaded piece.  A water-inscribed twig of driftwood, some pearls

and a few magic stones later ... 

: : : :

Now, about that evolving thought I mentioned earlier ...

I didn't realize until I took this quartet outside to photograph her that there is a certain

calm

running through this batch that I haven't seen in the others.  This month

feels like one cohesive journey tied together by an invisible equilibrium.  Am I 

making sense?  Its as if I'm starting to work out some triteness, some of those cliches that

crop up when doing improvisational bead work.  There was definitely more of an ease this

month, a kind of level of intention that never left me.  It's hard to explain but let me tell you

what I did at the beginning of the month:

I drew a card ...

a prompt card from my dear friend India's "wander cards for wonderers."

The words were

so

utterly

perfect 

I kept them in front of me on the beading table for the entire month.

It is where I held my focus.

And from that came a great, soothing calm

along with an unmistakeable affirmation to keep paying attention

to that which is most important.

: : : :

To view all of the  52 weeks : bead sketches  posts, starting with the most recent,

CLICK HERE

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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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Thievery ... a reflection

Don't worry.  This post is not about what you might think.

But it is about theft.  Of a kind.

It all started when I headed out to the driveway for some pothole repairs.  Minutes before,

while finishing a strong cup of sweet milky tea, I'd been re-reading some inspirational quotes. 

Collected over the years I revisit them periodically - a kind of mental balm.

As I shoveled gravel, loaded buckets into the cart, hauled them down the drive,

one quote in particular

kept going round & round in my head.

Manual labor does this to me.  Always has.  And I suppose if I really examine the subject

I'd have to say that one of the aspects of hard physical work I enjoy the most

is that there's precious little room for mental distraction - it taxes my body 

while something akin to stream-of-consciousness thinking always sets in.

Perhaps it's to do with endorphins, I don't know. 

My 10" X 10" cast iron tamper weighs about 16 pounds and aside from a shovel

- and my own muscle power, such as it is -

it's the only tool necessary for the tedious job of compacting as much gravel as possible

into every size imaginable sodden pothole.

Old-timers would advise me to do this patch job in the dry season

but I've found that after baling a bit of the standing water, those mushy spots are perfect for

accepting a new [repaired] stoney base.

And when they do dry, they're tough as cement.

So I'm out there, working away .... tamping, tamping, tamping,

emptying one gravel bucket, two gravel buckets, leveling, tamping, tamping, tamping,

and my mind wanders off with the quote

and it wanders over to recent thoughts I've had in relation to artist friends who

somehow feel like their creative work isn't good enough; then over to my pal, a fellow dog owner,

whose goal to compete in Agility is being stymied by not feeling good enough; then

to a very sweet gal I know who wouldn't come join in on volunteer wreath-making this season

because she was certain she couldn't make them as pretty as the rest.

Even though she was sorely desirous of camaraderie, she wouldn't come.

My neighbor is embarrassed about her beat up car.

One of my dear ones is so sure she won't measure up she's decided she won't even risk

applying for the job she so desperately wants - no words of encouragement can budge her.

One friend is so jealous of another she's stopped speaking to her altogether,

such is her perception of the other's success & good fortune in life. 

The list went on

and eventually the wondering came around to myself

so I asked self a few tough questions about how I hold my own self back.

Why  DO   so many of us rob ourselves of joy?

Because that's what we're doing when we constantly compare ourselves to others.

I lock my doors when I'm away from home for any amount of time.  I lock my car when I'm

in town and take precautions with online banking.

My doggy is secured in a safe enclosure where harm can't come to her and I

watch my back when I'm in a strange place, walking.

All these are safeguards against theft of one kind or another.

But what of the intangibles ... 

is joy of any less value?

The lowly pothole can be a splendid mirror.

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Getting the hang of it

Someday I hope to unwrap a bundled article of clothing

and have it 

not

look like an old paint rag.

Assembling the right combination of ingredients isn't the key ...

choosing the right fabric doesn't seem to be the key either ...

nor is how I roll it up, tie the string,

the cooking time or whether the vegetation was frozen or fresh

or how long I've let time be my friend afterwards ...

and shoot, I may have forgotten to pre-mordant.

None of these is  the  key

because

ALL

of

them

are.

So

that's the main thing I'm learning about this natural dyeing process,

the reason why it's so critical to keep practicing, work steadily, experiment,

build a knowledge base one step on top of the other.

Luck will only get ya so far.

Then

there's that no-small-matter of

 intuition ... 

often just a quiet fluttering off to the side,

a barely noticeable nudge

 towards a choice I wasn't going to make.

Am I listening hard enough?

I will concede that

some paint rags are prettier than others

but

I've got miles to go before

purple blobs are gonna be skillfully arranged into a

worthy item of clothing ...

at least

that's how it feels today.

But I am a bit cranky.

Maybe I should just blame it on the Super Moon ...

I feel a bit like that button !

Tis one good thing tho:

thrift store stuff is cheap

and fairly plentiful.

Oh.

TWO good things ...

nothing in the world like having the fine company of Her Fluffiness 

when I'm a tad grumpy ... 

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