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I have not stitched (continued from here)that top piece yet which is a leftover from something else. A cloth for no reason ,I think, yes. The days are getting shorter. The cloth is getting longer. No reason for saying that other than the observation.
ps... Typepad is acting up again, taking a few days away....
About 48 hours.
I think that's how long I was awake this time.
Last night. Sleep.
Before I slept I noticed the morning glories closing up. The shapeshifting filled me with peace.
And then I stitched a place, without a face.
I think it is anxiety. I remember the little dance Dad told me about when he noticed my stress. Two steps forward, one step back. There is a rhythm to it. I use it on my stitching sometimes. To hold things together. And keep my perspective. I visualized that stitch to fall asleep.
I might call this nothing on the horizon except a new day for now.
I love the alignment that landscape offers. And how a space becomes more of a place just by being there.
This was a struggle.
You know , like what you are imagining isn't working.
But then it goes beyond that, especially if you work in a way that is intended to express what you are thinking, not what you thought or you want someone to think.
The struggle here, as it became apparent , was everything. Everything that is me. Or now actually, was me.
I struggled with this one when it suddenly dawned on me that. That's the Point.
So I kept going until the moments held together.
And I named it
The Struggle to Be_______.
Probably for me, Visible might be what I fill in the blank with, but we each have our own struggles, right?
And I didn't really get anywhere. But it's ok. I like looking at what happened. The form it took.
I wanted to talk here but I didn't find enough quiet time and now I forgot what I was thinking. It was a confusing day.
I don't know really. Just Good Morning.
There was no sleep last night. So just to catch my blog feed, which I cannot change the time on anymore...just to be here, I just got up, a picture then and I will just gather words and try to put them here later. This piece continued from here.
Hickory.
New to me. There are 2 kinds of hickory trees here.
Three have tiny bitter fruit, further in the woods.
But the big one by the road in...
Edible and delicious. Have you ever tried to shell a hickory nut? Now I know why they are not sold in stores. Gotta pick the fruit out mostly.
Still, thousands from one tree and still falling. So worth the work. Kind of a cross between a hazelnut and a walnut. The hull breaks open when they fall. After some research and advice. Gather, put in a bucket of water, discard those that float, dry for about 2 weeks (drying, the tree guys says, will make the fruit come out easier, but still...), enjoy. The slow snack then. I have some hulls soaking, not much color I don't think but tannin, for sure.
The forest here is also a garden, I never felt exactly like that before.
These old eyes on the Magic Cloth keep showing up. Like new eyes.
New eyes are my symbol for learning. This patch started out as a sampler. 9 eyes. I love making them.
The weather has cooled. Preparing for winter in these weeks leading up to Halloween... Always a season's marker. You know, frost, pumpkins. I ordered some bulbs that need to go in the ground before then. Was hoping for porch roof repair, we'll see. Dave, the local fix it guy is real busy and that's something we can't do ourselves.
Once things settle down, weaving. For now, finishing up some small works here. Letting them go. The walls are clearing. Feels good.
Big Rain yesterday. Big.
Picked the rest of the indigo, which seems to ever renew. Most of it anyway. Figuring it would get crushed in the downpour.
Indigo, the salt method over previously dyed scrap, Pom and oak. I like an earthy color. A colored base layer helps.
This morning. Indigo, the salt method take 2, to deepen the color, promising.
The pineapple top is sprouting, can't even remember how many times I tried this. Enough I guess.
It's Fall.
And then thinking about Fall. Leaves Fall. But leaves are let go to make room for new leaves.
Our sweet Michelle gave me this little hoop. I played with this photo. I highlighted what might be held by this small gift. And I added a garden layer, the season. Fading.
I say to myself, the layering in photos, as well as digital drawing, can be a tool, for helping form evolve in my story cloth. But then too, tools need to be an extension of those who use them. That is the complexity in the relationship.
Some stitching then, continued from here, yesterday, but more realizing again, how the nature of cloth, it's flexibility, how cloth is like clay, like breath, like extension of self.
I'm in a mood.
Moods are useful.
Expecting days of rain here. Again.
A day or so, ago.
She felt heavy. She had too many layers as a result of how she came together.Now, a day or so later, thoughts again of how form changes through interaction, here focused on where light meets dark:
I do a lot of my initial drawing digitally. I used to print the picture, that works too. But printer ink runs out fast and paper is precious. And really, as a person who draws a lot, learning digital drawing, having the tools, I think it only enhances possibility and encourages new form.
So here she is. Looking a bit unsure. But Ready. Or at least in that frame of mind. Now to draw on the cloth.
I noticed some issues with Typepad, this blog server, cropping up again. I'm not going anywhere though, I will just work with it. Feel Free, well, that will evolve as well, but as it is... it will disappear as we know it, all content will be available here in one form or another. Please note that the site will become unavailable for a few months while I fiddle. Starting in October. I have downgraded to a cheaper plan and changes need to be made. I will put the links to free classes here soon enough.
I will simply extract what I need as I go. Can't believe how much is already there in such a short time. Here, if you click, some additional thoughts on the digital doodle. Rambling with a pen...
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung