Inspire :: following a thought born from emotion

Many times over the last months I've wondered why I haven't

been able to bring myself back to this blog. In truth, I've missed it sorely.

This spot used to be like a favorite room in my house,

fairly comfy (without the dust) where I gladly resided with a warm cuppa

(or a wee dram) and a contented dog companion glued to my feet.

But gradually, I grew uncomfortable with spending

time here and rather than push the issue for the sake of continuity,

I simply left the room altogether.  Not unlike relationships in life, I suppose,

where the best move can be to offer distance and reprieve.

Finally, today, I've sorted the reason 'why' I left, after months of not knowing.

I simply got sick & tired of talking about myself.

I do a bit of it still, if I'm honest, over on Instagram, but in much smaller doses
where the emphasis always feels like it's more about the pictures -
for some reason that feels more palatable for now.

I remember when I first started blogging, how difficult it was to express

thoughts and emotions to some invisible audience "out there." A most uncomfortable

position for an introvert to be in, while at the same time a  most perfect

outlet for an introvert (if that makes any sense at all).

Over time - years, in fact - that uncomfortableness waned ... until it didn't anymore

and I found myself full circle, poised in front of the keyboard

absolutely tongue-tied.

So what this all comes down to is that I'd like to reshape a way to be around.

One of my most valued pastimes is perusing artwork produced by those who strike
some sort of chord ... work wherein I find inspiration and/or solace
and which can often produce a launchpad for new creative ideas.

Although any genre has the spirit to pull, my particular love & focus is on textiles
and remains an abiding constant. Gosh, truly, there is SO MUCH amazing work 

happening with cloth; from massive installations, to incredible books, to even
the tiniest bits of recycled scrap embedded in collage. Often this work is made
by names I barely recognize or have never heard of altogether.

I'd like to post some of that work here.

To no set schedule.

To no particular timetable.

I'll call the album, 'Inspire'
and maybe it will do so for some of you, too.
And maybe then we can get back to some jolly good conversations again,
like the ole days.
I've missed that.

More soon.

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Protection

Sometimes it's advantageous to set a project aside when it reaches an impasse.

I can't remember exactly why I stopped working on this series in the summer of 2013,

but I remember exactly why I started ....

beadwork on naturally dyed cloth

that hopefully could symbolize thoughts I was having about

how we humans guard ourselves.

Not only the different ways we protect ourselves from each other, 

how we wear masks so that our real selves can't be seen or fully known,

but also how we guard ourselves out in the world.

Somewhere there's a list - a long list of words I wrote to itemize all the ways we might do this.

Need to dig that out now

because I think the time is ripe for carrying on with this.

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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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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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Considering a world view

There are many ways to say a thing.

For those of us who don't feel particularly eloquent in the political arena and

are far more comfortable with other forms of expression,

perhaps we can look more closely

at our other ways of speaking.

Because it is my opinion that now, more than ever in my living memory,

we somehow MUST keep speaking  out loud.  It's of critical importance.

So we don't feel lost.

So we don't feel helpless. 

Even the quiet work of hands and heart is not to be underestimated during this time ...

this time of which  -  to some of us  -  is looked upon

as a frightening & uncertain period in our world's history.

Again, there are many ways to say a thing....

and I think we can be a mighty choir if we don't feel so afraid.

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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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Life is not lived in a straight line

"There isn't one right path for you or anyone else.

And there isn't a set of timelines of milestones ...

You're allowed to backtrack.

You're allowed to figure out what inspires you

at different stages of your life.

You're allowed extra time when you need it.

Life is meant to be a series of zigs and zags.

It should look like a mess, but a beautiful mess.

It shows that you have changed and grown.

You've had your ups and downs.

You went down one path, but decided to change course ...

perhaps on many occasions.

That's how life should be."

~ Angel Chernoff ~

First, I'd like to start by saying  Thanks  to each of the kind folks who've written

wondering where I'd wandered off to and why.

A disappearance wasn't planned, but it began and then it felt totally natural

and right to follow and to somehow trust that'd I'd know where I was meant to go

once I got there,

which wasn't to be here it seemed, blogging.

Except now it  is.

Have I confused you completely already?

To backtrack: I resorted to a few fairly strict measures to bring my body back to

some semblance of rightness, and again, I felt inclined to keep my concentration there

and not out here telling everyone about it.

Which is not my way anyway.

So while that was on the slow road to sorting itself out

I unexpectedly found myself on a new threshold

- literally -

when a space I'd put my name on a waiting list for suddenly became available.

This was a dream come true.

A small space for a textile / beading / photography studio ... at last.

Room to stretch my wings, dive into multiple projects at a time, close the door

on big beautiful messes  without having to clean up first  and then 

return the next day to pick right up where I'd left off.

And one of the best bits is that I can bring my dear doggy.

That's her new sleeping spot over there on the left wall

although I think she prefers the little rug by the door actually.

That quote up top from Angel popped into my email this morning and

as I read it, I knew today was the day to say a little something here.

I'll keep it short for the moment

[in truth, I am feeling somewhat rusty at this]

but I have quite a few tales to catch up on,

many pictures to share,

and I'm greatly looking forward to being out here with you all again.

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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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Despite everything

the amphibian inside us

Because it's summer.  Because the air is heavy with heat and nostalgia.

Because this is what we have to keep remembering, the way our bodies

know the waves, the amphibian inside us unafraid of going under,

of what ripples beneath the surface.  Because waiting on the dock

for the signal to jump is like thinking someone else is responsible.  Because

there is no one else responsible.  Because despite the current,

it is possible to swim against it, or even stand, inverted, balancing

on a slippery mulch of murk and mud, and stay perfectly still.

Because when the world tips from view, we have to do everything we can

to tip it back.

~ Maya Stein

:  :  :

from Maya Stein's "10-Line Tuesday" poetry series

... the backlog can be enjoyed  here

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bead sketches : month six

June was my birth month and I was having very mixed feelings

about growing older, like we all do I suppose.  I try not to dwell on the negatives

and instead, steer any introspection that occurs right towards that which

is beautiful and calm and filled with positivity.

And that's where doing an enterprise that we love

can save us.

Literally.

Not to put too dramatic a spin on it, but it's a challenge to not be

brought down by the goings-on in the world.

It seems so important to keep going 

in the midst of all that

no

matter

what.

I didn't follow particular prompts in June, not like previous months. The natural dye pots

were fired up, sewing was at hand, the garden was being tended & revamped for

dye plants (instead of food) ... then, the new space needed arranging, many

photographs to take & play with, resting to give attention to, dietary changes to make

 and so all became one big swirl of activity,

each one seeming to feed off the other

with hardly any separation or pause.

There were words, some phrases, even memories that cropped up

while working with these littles so I'll share those instead

and you can make of them what you will ....

walking a thin line

full pockets

astonished

order from chaos

solace undermined

minimalism

the wee lass who collected abalone shells on her 10th birthday

"nostalgia is not indulgence"

sunset tidelines

stay calm; wait, hope

delicate balance

relative symmetry

frayed around more than the edges

flower  power

"to rest is to prepare to give the best of ourselves"

: : : :

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

 CLICK HERE

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