- Celebrating milestones

Jace is 5 months old today ...

That alone would be reason enough to celebrate, but the blog also reached a couple of significant milestones: 200 blog posts and 50,000 views. Better yet, 125 of those posts were written since my 2014 New Year's resolution to "Blog." So we're celebrating by eating the newest version of the #2 all-time blog post for dessert tonight.

Best of all, in the past year I found a community of like-minded stitchers, weavers, dyers, and dreamers ... KINDRED SPIRITS ... crossing the country from New Mexico to New York ... circling the globe from the Netherlands to Australia.

And in that community, I finally found readers who were willing to talk back. Of the 665 comments made since the blog began in 2009, over 90% appeared after Jude Hill's Considering Weave class began last June ... no coincidence.

So much has changed ...

• Beginning every day reading about and looking at the amazingly inspirational creations made by the KINDRED SPIRITS ... 
  
• learning so many new ways of doing the "same old" things ...
• finding joy in the process and acceptance of my own creative expression ...
• and letting go of  "needlework" in order to embrace "stitch" as my watchword.

So much remains the same ...

• Don being there every step of the way ... 
• encouraging me, then asking for my thoughts on his own creative journey ... 
• following the blogs of others who have caught my interest, then finding his own inspirations ... 
• and adding not an insignificant number of ticks to the "Views" stat.

It has been a most excellent adventure ...

I can't wait to see what's next ...

- New Mexico: Inspiration to last a lifetime

I've added a " New Mexico" label to the index because it has become apparent that this place, this land of enchantment, has literally gotten into our blood.

The latest on the assemblage

And in service of that inspiration, I've been teaching myself warp-faced weaving by trial and error, first warping a shadow box ...

Then discovering that this ...

was not going to work as well as this, which has one pair of red strands added to either side of the seven red/black pairs ... 

And now I am slowly figuring out how to weave an "X" ...

1/2" wide

Meanwhile, Don found his "Jude Hill" in the artist Robert Rivera and has been pulling out shells and gourds and sticks and ...

Sticks!

A synapse fired and I rooted out a box that has been sitting next to the printer ... gifted to us by the Cline family when we were in Avon four years ago? Five? 

No matter ... in the box was a handful of sticks (rootlets?) that I found on the beach that year ...

                                     

And a chunk of aggregated shell sand ... thunderstone? Well, probably not.

No matter ... they will surely serve Don's muse.

- That's a wrap: Stitching an impression

I googled my way through "Katsina sash" images, finding myself drawn to clouds and rain. Then "sketched" them with needle and crochet cotton, not wanting to waste the worsted wool Kathy sent.

As so often happens in the kitchen, all the ingredients came together ... somehow scaled to Don's assemblage and to Kathy's wool and to the odd bit of linen that I got for another project in the late 90s ... a re-visioned Lord's Prayer ... but better this ...

Each arm of the piece is 7" long and 1 1/4" wide ...

Stitched in two days and I was absolutely determined to finish during the Super Bowl, so I took off glasses and hearing aids and retreated into my own world. Determined, too that the back should be as good as possible, because really I do love that ...

I did finish ... and I do like it, very much.

And this morning, this is for Grace ...

- Progress on the assemblage: Considering ...

Feathers and faces ...

Woodpecker feathers found in the yard

Imitating weave with stitch ...

Experimenting with crochet cotton

and a first stab at warp-faced weaving ...

Zoomed in

- Wool gathering

Don's assemblage/homage to Hopi Katsina art continues to progress, with some amazing milk paint additions. He asked again if I was interested in weaving a sash to go around the middle, which I was of course. This picture shows the wools I ended up getting for the project, but the story of how I got them is well worth a post.

A fair bit of Google image searching led me to decide a sash of red, green and black woven wool was called for. Fortunately, during my early Colonial Williamsburg days as a needleworker I accompanied Kathy Smith in her exploration of 18th-century dyeing techniques, after which she went on to make a living creating colonial and early American textile reproductions (you can see a reproduction canvaswork pincushion using her wool here).

Going to her website I looked to see what shades she had. The first two choices, a charcoal gray and a dark green, were relatively easy to make. But which red to use? Brazilwood, cochineal or madder? Without too much effort I convinced myself I needed to get all three, the better to choose by having them in hand rather than trying to read them off a computer  screen.

Getting in touch with Kathy (aka Kathleen B. Smith, pictured here in 1982 after she left CW) renewed a long-neglected connection and we've enjoyed comparing notes about the children and grandchildren who have been born since our dyeing days ... including my recollection of the ironwork her husband Ed made for my Dad, who used it to craft a cradle for my daughters.

 

In spite of the snowstorm that just hammered her neck of the Massachusetts woods, Kathy immediately sent out a package that arrived today. Fortunately, she intuited that the green I chose might not be quite right and indeed, the extra twist of a lighter green that she tucked in was just what I needed. Although honestly, any of the colors could be made to work ...

I did find it very difficult to do the them photographic justice, even in shaded sun ...

So I took them inside to my usual "take a picture before you forget" spot ...

Then tried them in the fireplace cum kiva where they will eventually reside ...

The colors that made the final cut

                                 

Every shot is a little different, none of them perfect, but hopefully you can get a sense of how beautiful the natural dyes are. Or better yet, go to Kathy's website store and consider indulging yourself in some hand-dyed wool. The color variations are much more subtle than most variegated threads on the market ... and as the old saying goes, you have to see it to believe it.

- Close encounters of the neighborly kind

In between stitching sessions I've been working on some trail blazing and as I approached the rapidly diminishing mulch pile for the umpteenth time I had a Close Encounters moment ...

Okay, I confess ... I stretched the image up a bit for emphasis

Visions of Richard Dreyfuss making mashed potato renderings of Devils Tower danced in my head ...
 

Go look on YouTube, you know you want to. I'll wait.

So anyway, the mulch pile has been shrinking because I've been on a mission to make the pathway safer between our house and our neighbors' ... one two-by-three foot tub-full at a time ...

Slowly, but surely covering over twenty yards of rocky, rutted ground with a four-inch layer of chipped wood and brush, give or take an inch ...

All the while thinking about "Good fences make good neighbors" from Robert Frost's poem Mending Wall. A saying which is is ambiguously received in the poem because "something there is that doesn't love a wall."

Fortunately, we have the right kind of good neighbors and this I know for certain because "there where we do not need the wall" there is instead a gap ...

 

... into which I have now laid a seventy foot welcome mat.

Of course it would figure after I hauled and leveled the last load of mulch, Don mused, "Do you think we should have asked them first?"

- When the moon is in the seventh house: Phases in assemblage

Okay, so the Fifth Dimension may not have been the coolest band ever, but if you are a person of a certain age I totally know what you are humming right now ...

Anyway, this is the story of Don's latest assemblage and how it came to be ...

Dimensions: 42" x 11"

It actually started with this board from Junkology ...

which I photographed and printed in monochrome so we could play with some ideas ...

Chief among them was a sunburst, patterned after the daily specials board Don spotted at the Red Sky Cafe last summer (and yes, the tuna was to die for) ...

The problem was, the Junkology board seemed like it was a little too long and a little too narrow for a sunburst ...

So we started brainstorming ways to take advantage of the four "frames" on the board. 

"What about phases of the moon?" I suggested ...

Which sent Don out the door to play with metal and milk paint, creating everything from a crescent ...

to a full moon ...

Note: there are two layers of metal for dimensionality

Except ... the moons totally didn't work on the yellow board, ending up on another board instead (yep, from that same trip to Junkology).

So the yellow board awaits and the sunburst idea is back on the table. To be continued ...

- Some assembly required: Progress on Close Your Eyes

Realizing that the first lullabye book was starting to come together, I decided to take some process shots so I can remember what I did when I make the second one ...

                        

My original intention was to stitch the individual 5" x 5" pages onto flannel, then sew the flannel together into two-sided pages, but it quickly became apparent that the book would be too thick. So, no flannel, just two pages back-to-back with a 1" strip of cloth along the spine edge ...

joined together with safety pins ...

then stitched along the spine edge, front and back ...

Note: I stitched the edging onto the front side, folded it over the spine,
then stitched the backside without going all the way through to the front.

This is where it got interesting. I wanted the stitch joining the two pages together to show on one side, but not the other. Which argued for Jude's invisible basting ...

but with the b-side intentionally visible, which required some thought about what exactly would show and how to get there. So I tried for a "wandering" stitch since I was pretty sure that straight line basting would be pretty hard to pull off ...

The resulting line calls to mind the Flight of the Bumblebee ...
or the path taken by any two-year old child on a walk

Last, but not least, there was an eleventh-hour addition of two pages when daughter Meg made a comment that confirmed what I knew in my gut: I needed to include all of the lyrics. Fortunately, I've gotten much more comfortable with the Pitt pen ...

and was pleasantly surprised at how much I was able to stitch in one day ...

Note: one word was changed to fit what I used to sing to my girls every night ...

- Remembering: A life in books

When I posted the picture of popcorn and hot chocolate yesterday, I commented to Don that it reminded me of the so-called grad school food groups that could be found in the vending machines between  classes. That got me thinking ...

It isn't surprising I ended up studying librarianship, since I was a "weird little girl and a strange teenager" (as kindred-spirit-in-print Anna Quindlen described herself in Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake). Preferring books to playing outside, each summer I would set myself the task of reading an epic tome ... Moby Dick, War and Peace and the King James version of the Bible come to mind ... not always to the end (in truth I got lost early on in the biblical begats), but I could always console myself with yet another reading of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings ...which I did countless times.

A recently acquired hardcover edition of  The Lord of the Rings,
plus my original Hobbit and Fellowship in paperback.
Note the hand carving on the bookshelves ... more about that later.

Fortunately, after heading to college I was lucky in love and later, as a young mother, I landed a part-time paraprofessional job at the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Library with full-time family health benefits. Good luck finding a deal like that these days! Better yet, when I decided to make a career of librarianship, CWF paid my tuition to the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. My degree work started in 1988, with Meliss still in diapers and Meg about to enter Kindergarten.

Many of the classes were taught by adjunct instructors at Old Dominion University in Norfolk and the University of Richmond, both about an hour from Williamsburg. Because most of us (adjuncts included) were working stiffs, CUA offered the classes every other Saturday from 9-4 ... two weeks worth of instruction packed into 6-hour marathon lectures with an hour for lunch, followed by two weeks of studying and writing papers ... seven times a semester. On those endless Saturdays, I would buy Classic Cokes and candy bars, bags of chips and nut bars ... trying to make it through without falling asleep.

Out of necessity, I learned the gentle art of how to write a paper in one night ... no matter if it was a five-page precis or a twenty-page research piece. This was before home computers were ubiquitous, so using my work computer figured in to the routine. On the assigned night, while Don watched the girls at home, I headed over to Second Street after work, invariably ordering a spinach salad with ranch dressing, a pint of Bass ale, decaf coffee and dessert. Between bites, I would sketch out the bare bones of the paper on a legal pad, having already done whatever research and/or reading was necessary. By the time I returned to the office (most) everyone would be gone so I could write uninterrupted until the requisite paper was done. Limping home at one or two in the morning, then getting up early the next day to head off to work wasn't uncommon. But it worked, earning me a 4.0 GPA ... a far cry from my undergraduate record at William and Mary where I had avoided like the plague any course that required papers.

CUA did require that three courses be taken on-site in DC. The best was a two-week Institute on Federal Library Resources taught by Frank Kurt Cylke, the director of the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped (which was in a very sketchy part of town, making for some quick hoofing). Wheeling around town in a full-size van packed with students, Mr. Cylke would regale us with stories that could only appeal to librarians, but which we tried to discourage as he had an unnerving habit of turning around to deliver punchlines while the van was threading through rush hour traffic.

We went to the Library of Congress (how ironic that this is a link to a Wikipedia article) where we pored over the rarest of rare books, saw huge stacks of cataloging in progress, and learned how the Congressional Research Service provided unbiased background papers to ensure informed voting by the members of Congress (hard to believe, right?) ... we marched through miles of concrete corridors to get to the Pentagon Library (which was moved after 9-11) ...  marveled at the map collections at the United States Geological Survey ... and here I pause, trying to recollect the other libraries, but what I remember instead is the side trip we made to a cooperative studio which specialized in the production of one-of-a-kind artist books. Amazing stuff.

It took four years, from 1988-1992, to finish the requisite 36 credits for my Master's degree ... twelve courses leading to a piece of paper that opened up new "earning opportunities." The truth is, I alternately loved and hated librarianship. Always did I love paging through a new book, helping a researcher to a "Found it!" moment, or learning something new myself that I never would have thought of looking up on my own. But supervision and management? Ugh, what soul-sucking work that was. Work that left my introverted self drained to the point where each year I had less and less energy for my own creativity on my own time. And so, when the opportunity to retire presented itself, I ran at it with open arms ... never looking back.

These days I have three public library cards and regularly haunt BookPeople and the Half Price Book stores in Austin and San Marcos (where I recently found a discounted copy of Suzanne Tourtillott's Making and Keeping Creative Journals recommended by Mo and more serendipitously happened upon The Anthropology of Turquoise by Ellen Meloy that Grace is reading right now).

No surprise then that one of the first things Don and I did when we bought our current abode was to have (more) bookshelves made. We found our way via By the Bridge Antiques to a gifted artisan named Robert Briones. I'm not sure if this link is to father or son, but on the day the two of them came to our house to plan the bookshelves, we bought this bench from Robert, Jr. out of the back of their pickup.

Then, after sketching out what we wanted, Robert, Sr. went back to Elgin and proceeded to craft the bookshelves of our dreams using scrap wood and metal, leftover paint and a great imagination ...

Each shelf has boards at the back and cunning metal rods
on the side to prevent books from spilling off

After all, if you can't have too many books, then it follows that you can't have too many bookshelves ... which is why we got two ... one for either side of our fireplace cum kiva ...

The shelves get progressively deeper and taller from top to bottom ...
a librarian's dream (note the large 3-ring binder at the lower left)

These days, between books and stitches, cooking and cactus-whacking, great kids and grandkids, I am well-contented.  Quoting Anna Quindlen again, "I have the feeling I may be cut out to be an old woman."

- A sneak peek: Framing windows

One of my favorite results from the rust dye trial was the windows that sprang from a sheet of Junkology metal scrap that we got on Black Friday (take that, big name retailers) ...

                              

As you can see, the two sides of the metal sheet left different impressions. Cutting one out, I told Don that I was going to insert a tiny picture of Meliss and Jace behind a window in the lullaby book ...

Note the cut edges on this one versus the torn edges below ...

"Like a flap?" he asked.

"Oooooo, I hadn't thought of that!" I replied ... and promptly abandoned what I was doing to cut out a new window...

Serendipity: the torn edges actually lined up with the rust lines

Which opens to reveal an ink-jet printed cloth photograph ...

Ink jet fabric printing invisibly basted and edged with blanket stitch ...
applique would have been preferable, but the cloth quality is limiting and hard to stitch

Happy day ... I love making tiny stitches ...

18-20 stitches per inch

Better yet, final assembly of the first lullaby book is finally in sight.

Addendum:

The grad school food groups revisited on a rainy day: saturated fats, salt, chocolate, caffeine, and carbs

And because I want to remember how I made the hot chocolate (using flatware, not measuring spoons) ... two heaping table spoons of Dutch process cocoa, one scant tea spoon of espresso powder, two tea spoons of sugar and a splash of vanilla, whisked together with some hot tap water.  Added to two small cups of milk and a slug of cream, heated gently on the simmer burner. Makes two small, very rich mugs of hot chocolate.