Just the day after Saturday really.
My sadness has turned into curiosity. More questions that answers.
I am not ready for anymore conversation about any of it. Unspoken notes to self is all that remains for now.
The recently harvested indigo with seeds dried quickly. I hung three bundles from the ceiling beams in the studio. The wood stove has been cranked up for a few days. I'm tidying up because most of my time will be spent in the main part of the house soon. The studio will be heated less often as winter moves in. Probably, we'll see.
There are still 2 pots brewing on the stove. One pomegranate. One black walnut. I will try to get some cloth dyed while the stove is fired up. I love the colors, the yellow earth colors that come from pom and walnut and copper pots. But more than color, I have begun working more with the reaction of tannin and metals. These pots are tannin soup.
Here, more deliberately with sun in mind. Old linen soaked in pom overnight, a tin can left to rest. I've done these rings before. But what if this time, I leave the the cloth dripping wet ? Allow the migration of the black marks. It radiates outward and feels good. I love how the form emerged from a simple change in process. Maybe many of these today. They make themselves really.