I have temporarily removed the center silk panel. It is slightly smaller than the opening and I want to extend it a bit. And I am looking at this. How it is a way of holding center. In some lighter way. A focus on a sense of center that might not be apparent otherwise. Holding nothing but then not. A place. Placekeeping. I will hold that thought in my mind for further consideration.
And then, how the frame floats. How easily it could be pulled out of shape. Softened by that. A kind of liquid frame. I will hold that thought too.
Because here and now, I will be continuing with the other thought. Extending the silk centerpiece.
I will stitch the inner edge of the patchwork frame, catching all layers. And then cut away the excess cotton lawn*- inner frame close to that stitching line by lifting the outer edge of the frame out of the way, but I will show all that later. Managing the layers. I will create a page at Feel Free for seams but not today.
* Lawn cloth or lawn is a plain weave textile, originally of linen but now chiefly cotton. Lawn is designed using fine, high count yarns, which results in a silky, untextured feel. The term "lawn" derives from "Laon", a city in France, which produced large quantities of linen lawn.
Several versions. This one will take the longest because it is being hand pieced.
It will be square. I am working in rings. Arranging the seam color that way. A square basket, with 9 holding center. I am using what I have. Glad to be using it. Adding at least 9 squares a day until it fills the wall it will hang on.
There is no need to add a backing in order to use it as a design/measuring tool. But I will. Because I feel this effort , this set of cloths, is a set of blankets for me. Something quite important to my sanity. A needle chant. I will work on this series (now the final leg of the Sanity series) in the background, not much to see really. I will show my progress once in a while. And share my thoughts about its value to me.
Another year. Swept Up in the Vastness of it All. That is what I am calling this. Almost done along with several more strays keeping me company these last months. I've chosen to ease them all into a longer format. Long cloth has a form that changes the sense of these little cloths. For me. It seems more like continuing. Path like. There is room for a sense of that. The journey. Story.
The longer format also makes them useful as bookmarks, or bookmats I like to call my version of that. Making them into placekeepers which works nicely with the whole idea.
Fringe is also my symbol for continuing. It adds to a sense of longness. I especially like the connection it has to cloth itself, emphasizing the the thing that stands. Which keeps it together as so much passes through it. This one has some expanded sense of that, a full spectrum of continuing. There are so many ways really.
I have a lot to say about making fringe.
Below is just an old video (way back in one of the Boro workshops, I think...) that shows the basic method I use to make a twisted string, be it cloth or thread. I learned it in Girl Scouts. The hand twisting. So for now I will put it here until I make a new instruction set that has to do with new experiments with twisting. And a FRINGE page at Feel Free.
So a warm September is fading. Stormy weather headed up the coast.
The clouds moved in last night and we had some early morning rain. As much as I dread the week of flooding rain to come, we need it. The moss on the roof has already begun to celebrate.
We need a new roof. We will get more money for the house. But the moss is so happy there. So there it is. Who knows what kind of monstrosity they will build here once we are gone. This is not considered a house in this neck of the woods.
I gathered a few Walnuts.
Just a few. Just a little dyeing to try an idea I have. Don't need more. It will be less like summer soon enough. The rain will bring some cold. Got 3 tannin rich pots planned once the studio wood-stove can be fired up. Just 3 pots. In order to try some new marks on cloth. To make some old ugly cloth usable. Acorn, Walnut and Pom. The indigo vat is in the garage for the winter, which gets heated by the dryer and the boiler when we run it. It also has one wall up against the chimney, and since we over insulated it a bit it actually stays comfortably warm. I have some plans for the vat.
I haven't stitched much in the past days, busy with winter chores and being in September.
I pinned the stray who Dances with Leaves over an older piece I call Half Woven in Space. I have no intention of leaving it there. It's a book mat. A place keeper. With the thought of reconsidering the idea of straying. As not being lost but simply being in the moment, in between how it went and how it might go. Keeping that. I do like the idea of pairing (love pairings) the strays with a setting in some way. Also I always marvel at how my little works always seem to pair so well. How they are always made for each other. But then I think, maybe it is just because I am open to that. How things might touch. Across moons. Letting them.
(back here as a path) I made another, in magic black and white. It seems to keep the old rhythm that rocks me in a new way. Something for in between. In between appearing and disappearing perhaps. It all seems to come down to that.
I look at them together, knowing they are so similar but at the same time, not at all. I see the first as a kind of wandering. Straying. An accidental alignment. The other more of an intentional arrangement. Still, neither is planned in a way to be static. Going and then a sort of staying. Holding. (Note to self: Form is completed by considering it. Or form remains dynamic if it is considered, reconsidered)
Nine for PlaceKeeping then. For Summer's cloth pages. Pictured here a ragged patchwork spread, begun in Small Journeys. There are 38 pages now, loose, a few still blank. The cover needs some work and I will continue work on this through the end of this month. The format pleases me very much. Scrap book #1. Goings and Holdings. 9/2014-9/2015. The travelogue series (small journeys in cloth).
Chilly morning. I considered a small fire. But then not.
Sometimes , location, like the time of year, can be guessed through the memory of having been there before. Memory is a map in a way. We might use it to feel safe. Chart safe stepping. Or even escape.
Sometimes a journey is imagined. Mapped out and documented for safe going. Maybe it's the fear of getting lost. The need to hold onto expectation. But it's really no guarantee.
This was the sketch for Holding Pattern. I've torn away part of it, leaving the center panel. The Xs marked where I was as I pieced. Until all of a sudden I started not to need them.
I stitched this with the sunrise. 9 as a path. The linear nine patch. Putting one patch in front of another.
Sometimes simply being right where you are is so beautiful and a simple going is, becomes, the path itself. And you feel joy. Which is all places at once. And there is no fear of getting lost. Form emerges like path.
I love how the holes in my design wall(s) have come to look like stars.
So I will continue Holding Pattern with the memory of a plan. Or no plan at all which is really never true because there are always imaginings. In case you lose your memory. And I will be held by that.