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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Windfall for the dyepot

Foraged a bit in the garden this morning.  It's been a fine stretch of summer

weather - plants are filled to bursting with blooms.

Found these spent petals, a cache from the 'black' hollyhocks ...

known around my place as

* promises waiting to happen *

Powerful mark-makers are these little sputniks !

Am still as head-over-heels as ever

and can't wait to give them a try on paper ...

: : :

Photo mumbo-jumbo:

shot with iPhone

fine tuning & adjustments in Snapseed app

blur, focal point & vignette added with Jazz app

final adjust & copyright added with PicMonkey

Joining with the gang over at Kim's place for Friday Finds ...

lots of great stuff to be seen over there, go peek.

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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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Signs

Shortly after stashing my bags at the guest house

and not two hours into my arrival in Scotland,

I went out for a walk and came across this ...

a most thought provoking sign.

Local residents would certainly have pegged me for a tourist

should any of them been watching as I maneuvered for a photo angle,

but I couldn't pass it up.

I was having one of those hairs-standing-on-end moments

about good things to come; as I stared up at that sign

I just knew I was in for a mighty special adventure.

How true that was !

Now, as seems to be my way,

I'm needing a bit of time to let everything percolate ...

I'm busy editing photos, gathering thoughts from memories & notes,

and spending some precious hours exploring new directions in handwork

while that fire burns bright.

I've posted a few images over on Instagram,

{ click here }

for now, a wee small taste

of my delightful journey to bonny Scotland.

Very soon, I'll have some tales to tell ...

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Towards another edge ...

how to dive in

Be afraid. Tremble at the thought. Sleep poorly. Eat potato chips in

nervous succession.  Get angry when you least expected it. Feel

impatient at small talk, how much it delays and distracts. Yearn

for silence, that necessary blank canvas. Take note of the way clouds steal

across the sky, shaping themselves into the faces of celebrities, or a rabbit.

Find yourself, unexpectedly, advancing toward an edge, electric and unsure.

Notice the texture of the ground under your feet - loose pebbles, hot granite.

See what you do when no one's watching, how you lean in, how you want more,

aching for that first kiss of wind on your face, that smile of sun, beaming.

Catch your breath, close your eyes, then remember: you're not dreaming.

Maya Stein

~ from the 10-line Tuesday series

: : :

It's not the first time one of Maya's poems has arrived in my Tuesday box

somehow being so perfectly tuned

to here and now.

For you see, I'm heading out on a wee adventure shortly

to another edge,

or two,

some 4,450 miles from home ...

and I am feeling all these things Maya speaks of

[although I may have to admit to French fries over potato chips].

Shall be quiet here for a little while

but surely I'll have some tales to tell when I return.

The happiest of summers to each of you ...

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Some sense of order when there really isn't any

Not being one who is predisposed to tidiness

this happens to be the entire tipsy stack of books

which I've read over the last year

[and maybe a bit beyond]

piled as I laid them,

finished

or  [some]  not,

seen in complete disarray this afternoon.

This is a very graphic example of how my mind works.

True confession ...

such as it is.

Side story:

Recently, I found myself in need of an awl.

Not necessarily desirous of a new one

it came to my attention I might acquire one used ... not only for a lesser penny

but in the company of vintage needles tah boot.

Fond as I am of my grandmother's needle collection

these additions felt irresistible

for in this group were some larger eye sizes that I also happen to need,

of good quality, made in England

and which includes that delightfully historic Army and Navy Needle Book.

Here is the fine fella, Mr. Awl, now home to roost.  Still good & sharp

all that was required was a bit of cleaning on the wood handle.

I've left the heavy duty thread in place for the sake of posterity,

a reminder of tasks long past.

Sturdy,

dependable

and about to be put to further good use

[although not on this work smock ... slow going with hand stitching here].

But returning now to my opening tale of order ....

In my last post I happened to arrange a collection of objects 

that capsulized in an image what "home" symbolizes for me.

To my great surprise, I found enormous pleasure in this kind of organization.

Ironic 

isn't

it?

So in a similar vein, 

and because I find particular satisfaction in bringing this kind of 

photographic

order to things, here's another.  I daresay

 it might be quite some time before I'm similarly motivated

to produce order from the untidy stacks around the place.

: : :

My longtime blog friend, JJ Worden, left a swell link in her comment on my

last post ... she wrote:

"this reminds me a lot of an 'organized neatly' theme on tumblr

and is my head aesthetic though what comes out

looks nothing like it."

Love that.

Worth taking a long scroll over on that Tumblr theme  HERE

if this particular kind of  head aesthetic  appeals.

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There's no place like home ...

string stone

bone

driftwood

owl feather

seaweed

beach pebble

granite square

: : :

Joining with the fine folks over at Kim's place

for Texture Tuesday ...

faved : used in multiply mode, faded 50%, center erased slightly.

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Out to the edge

When I was a little girl,

I had a big crazy dream

about wanting to become the first woman astronaut.

Visions of walking around the outside of a space capsule while

looking back from the edge of the universe towards earth,

were completely captivating

and compelled me to study the sciences

while striving to be the best student possible.

NASA was demanding.  This I knew.

So it was a good thing I found out early

I was too short for space exploration

[then, the minimum height for pilots was 5' 4"]

because I never excelled in the sciences

and was fairly hopeless in math,

two very important subjects for discovering new worlds

in the cosmos.

~ evening view from Iceberg Point, on the far southwest tip of Lopez Island ~

What has never left me after all these years

is my unwavering attraction to the edges of places.

Funny to think of it this way but

when I look back on where I've travelled

and where I've chosen to live,

I see the pattern ...

still that wannabe astronaut, albeit in disguise.

Instead of space boots

it's likely a pair of Keens [or Blunnies when it's cold] these days.

And as often as possible

there's a certain four-pawed companion in tow,

a bit frowned on within intergalactic travel.

~ view from Spencer Spit, eastern side of Lopez Island, Swift's Bay on one side, Lopez Sound on the other ~

No, there may not have been rocket transport to the moon in my history

nor a glimpse of Mars from a capsule window,

but a simple outboard motor can surely be a 

perfect enough shuttle on a fine summer day when

there's an outer island to explore ....

~ passing through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, outer San Juan Islands ~

Not much traffic in the low-season

aside from the odd floating log

or a few seals just offshore.

~ the signal building, Turn Point Light Station, Stuart Island, San Juan Islands ~

My friend Pat & her husband do some caretaking out at Turn Point Light Station

although often, Pat heads over on her own.  In need of an extra pair 

of helping hands for this trip, Pat offered a ride.

Located way out on Stuart Island ... the farthest northwest point in the San Juan Islands ...

it's still only a 40 minute journey from the marina on Fisherman Bay.

The views are breathtaking.

Still, I can barely imagine living life out there - full time - as the keepers of old used to do.

While reading their stories, carefully preserved & documented in the small museum,

I couldn't help but think how  THIS  would be truly

living on the edge.

Many of the keepers didn't last too long in such a remote spot

except for this one ...

~ copy of photo from Turn Point Light Station Museum ~

Louis A. Borchers, keeper & amateur photographer.

I could relate to his propensity for picture-taking

~ copy of photo from Turn Point Light Station Museum ~

and probably would have spent my own time doing

much of the same.

Although, look at that beast of a tripod !

Good, sturdy legs for Borcher's Putnam Marvel,

a beautiful wood 5 x 8 view camera that would have cost

a pretty penny back in the day.

~ cliff at Lover's Leap [left], southwesterly view from Stuart Island ~

~ view to Vancouver Island, Canada from Stuart Island, USA ~

We ate our lunch on the bluff in front of the signal building

where the rushing confluence of tides was pleasant music

on such a peaceful, windless afternoon.

Sitting there in awe of this beautiful world,

right there on the boundary line between the States

and our western neighbor, B.C., Canada,

I pulled out my little pocket camera [phone]

while expressing thanks to all the explorers that came before.

Fortunately, there's no height restriction for this kind of adventuring

and I'm sure some were short just like me.

It was a fine day out.

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From the sea

It's been a fine, fine week

filled with many things

that just

make my heart sing

Pebbles were aligned,

tides were watched,

while in between

there was quite a bit of dunking.

I'd dyed a thrift shirt

in honor of my friend's visit

and much like in days of old

watching a photograph come to life

in the darkroom tray,

so too, my shirt's colors

after a dip in the salty brink.

Magic

pure and simple.

Kelp jewelry

and an abundant assortment of seaweed gifts

piled along the shore

inspired an experiment ...

what if they might give color?

Although I live by the sea, I have never tried.

So I waited, mustering patience

while my seaweed bundle

rested for five long days.

This morning, I unwrapped her

and I do believe a treasure trove of possibilities

await.

: : :

My  Friday Find ... joining in with the gang over at Kim's place

to celebrate life's simple pleasures.

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