Spirit Cloth

MapMending

 

The sun is out. Old sea, she greets me each morning.

Soul-o likes it better ON the table.

I did not record the making of this one.

Not like I do now.

Long ago, I found a roll of old brown paper. It' heavy and soft and I always thought I would use it. Finally I have something to use it for. On the wall then, behind the mending table, stretched out, a place to map this cloth. Because as I mend, I will try to remember. I started a while back, drawing my work.  This is a bit different I think. I have many thoughts. They will unfold.

I have determined that my basic block size was 6".  And that if I scale the drawing so that a 2" square represents each 6" block, it will fit on the paper.  I have gridded it in pencil. Darkening the 25 block section that was the starting point, as I recall.  As I took the photo, with the sun behind me it reminded me of the silhouettes we did in kindergarten. We used a projector, traced each others shadows on black paper, cut them out and mounted them on white paper.  Gifts for parents to take home on open school night. I must have mine somewhere. Anyway, this is a PlaceKeeper. A map. And something new.

Standing on the chair, this is the center section, where I began, before the ring of cats. Already strays in my mind. As things progressed this was no longer the center mathematically speaking. Personal math has it's own rules. There are many places to mend. I'll take them one by one while remembering. Mending gaps in memory while patching holes in cloth. Mending your own work is such gentle timekeeping.

And here's that poem again...

And what is life? A crazy quilt;
Sorrow and joy, and grace and guilt,
With here and there a square of blue
For some old happiness we knew;
And so the hand of time will take
The fragments of our lives and make,
Out of life's remnants, as they fall,
A thing of beauty, after all.

a scrap... part of a poem by Douglas Malloch

 

The Cat Quilt

A blanket. One of my biggest.

Eighty inches square. It was meant to fit a queen size mattress.

Where can I hang it outside?

There is a big drop from the back deck. I tacked it to the outside of the rail. The light is showing through where it needs to be mended. Making note of that.

It is very sunny.

Just for a full view then, a sense of scale, and layout. That's the studio on the left and what was my son's room on the right. Now that sleep loft and the "plant" room, we use it like a dining room sometimes and I use it as a studio substitute when I run out of wood to heat the regular studio which has the leaky roof and not enough insulation.  More leaves will fall. Imagine that.

This quilt grew without a plan. (and yes, it started with a nine patch) I worked in rings. The last big ring, the stars, was only completed on two sides. It was big enough, and as it happened it gave it a sense of something larger. There are suns and moons and stars built into this one. I know I will find them in all my work. The quilt was hand pieced using my paperless piecing method. Hand quilted. On a commuter train. Before I quit my day job. It is actually one of the few quilts I made with batting. In this case, a super thin cotton batt with unbleached muslin on the underside. With this quilt journey came the birth of new ideas about quilting. 

There are more photos on Flickr here. Many taken in the months right before I started this blog. I am still in contact with many of the first internet friends I met on Flickr. It's been some not so small journey. Just Going

This quilt needs mending. So I will take more pictures and fill in the stories.

 

Gathering Loose Self

I am really tired today.

I get confused by a shift in light and dark.

It is very dark. No Sun. For days, and days to come.  This shifts my sleep cycle, since the sun is my alarm clock. I woke up late. Too late for my comfort.

I am sitting here doing some last minute gathering before I begin digging in and republishing the lesson (not really that in any traditional way) pages from the original class. As I begin that process, there will be more space between class posts. The old class has a lot of audio to be converted. It takes time. Time I am taking because it needs to be done and all of this is good motivation for that.  I have not reworked my way through the old material. I want it to be new to me again as I go. Just to clearly see and compare it all to what I might think now using the same focus.

My motto as it has evolved: Be Prepared to be Unprepared.

Photos. I have a lot of them. They are untamed loose pages. All over the computer and many more on an external hard drive. Too many. Know what I mean?

Some then...

Obviously, the Sun has always been there. And mostly in the center. And it is right? Even if it sometimes feels like it isn't.

Note to self: Be like the Sun.

This is just a collage of photos that I pulled off the blog. It was fairly easy to find them because I tagged them suns for the categories. I am glad I have used that tool here, extensively, because the blog is so big. Some cloths here were from the first class, some not. Some sold, some gifted, some still here.  But even the ones that flew away, they are still here too. Because of the photos.

I'll re-organize my SunMoonStars photos today. Just that. I use Google's Picasa to manage photos. There are a lot of tools out there. I have used this one for a long time.  It's free and I like its simple editing tools and its logic. Applying tags to the photos allows me to create albums and then collages by subject.

I remember when there was no computer, no digital photos. I used to page through magazines, National Geographic. Clip and snip and make a focused scrapbook. Remember those days?

Actually mine was (is) a scrap-pile. Old loose habits. And instant refocus. Just slower.

Yes, I think there are a few piles left somewhere. This old house is a scrap pile. Maybe I will take y'all up on a tour of the cloth loft.  Gathering materials, another small journey ahead.

 

 

The Last Garden

Summer. Things grow and bloom and shift. Change.

But not as usual.

Here he is with his I'm not sure about you posture.

Things are green and lush here. Yet they don't seem right. The garden looks great. Smells great. But I feel uneasy. Fruit and vegetables hang so heavy they pull the branches to the ground. Yet don't ripen. As if in defiance. And I feel out of sync with it all. Helpless and Strange. I can't help thinking maybe, yes, it IS time for me to leave. Leave it be.

I made this pillow years ago. Before the blog. The Secret Garden Pillow. I posted a pic over on Instagram the the day. There was  question about how I made this one. I think, since it was so long ago, I will simply make another. I can't help but imagine how different it might turn out. But I might get to show you a lot of the process it holds. It really was a sampler of things to come.

There really needs to ne a stray in there.

I have some stuff to finish up so I think it will be my August project. Maybe it might be a "stitch-a-long"? Secret Garden 2. Aka The Last Garden. Sometimes I name thoughts before they materialize. Because the dream is caught so easily. What would you name yours?

 

So Many Things...

I need a list. I haven't made a list in a long time.

Lately there are a lot of things. Lining things up makes a path.

The first thing on my list is to finish what's here.  Why? Because I need to  have less stuff. Why? Because we will move from here and I want less to deal with. And stuff gets old. Gets in the way of new. And my mind is filled with new. And I would like to set up a small shop to clear some space and finance some preparations for Going.  And the journey through old work is a fabulous way to document where I have been. Am. Review and rethink, explain. To you. To myself.

And all of it might help me find a new path to paper.

The two pieces above are not connected. I just caught them in a moment, both leaning in the same direction.

I have, over this quiet year, promised some of my work away. But it has been a while and what was sometimes is no longer.  I don't like to commit to selling before stuff is complete, priced and posted. That is why I don't like to reserve stuff while it is in process. So my format will be something like a gallery. And you will have to email me to get the details for purchasing. A conversation perhaps. Better.

The second thing on my list is clean up and solidify my approach to Feel Free. It has overwhelmed me and it needs attention.

Tonight will be colder than cold, so layers, hot tea are also on my list.

Crossing a line

 

Over the quiet time in December, I stitched a little on this cloth.  It is an oldie. Goes back to a simpler time, one of my earlier what-ifs.  Like many cloths rolled and stored, it surprised me a bit.  It is not large, about 22 inches square. And it is more "quilterly".  Like things I was making back then, I put it away for that reason actually.  I felt I had outgrown that I think. I was swept up into something and lost touch with work that didn't seem to fit that ideal. Still, after sitting with it for a few days I came to know it again. As me.  And wondered who was I? Who am I? Who will I be? I added to it.  Like the line of text above. It once was something about edges. I can't remember exactly  but the edge that was is no longer the edge that is now.  Which makes the words edge that are floating around rather funny actually.   Some of the other edge words were removed and used for edges of other things as I recall. So it was edgeless for a while as I was on to something else...Many something elses.   

Thinking about edges today. How sometimes we use them to define finished. In between. Use them like fences. To mark a safety zone. A boundary. To compare. Measure. To stop. To accuse. To reassure. To look back. To go forward. And even to make time stand still.

In this year after The Year I Became Old  I feel the need to erase my sense of edge. The line, that is, that separates things in my mind and encourages fragmentation. Comparison. Judgement.

I only have a sense of this. So that is all I can say.

Except I added this today. And made a note to self...I am the edge....

Now the question, Where am I?

I'll name this that.

 

About time

Sorting always Uncovers things.  Still Undoing stacks of cloth.

I made this table cloth for Mom.  Hand pieced on a commuter train.   I gave it to her for Mother's day. Long ago.  She liked checks.  And I don't really, not that much.  So I used up a lot of what I had, leftover from the the working days.  She liked it a lot.  But she didn't like that it wasn't backed.  To her it was unfinished.  To me it was just fine.  Anyway,  I took it back at one point.  To line it.  And for some reason I cut a patch from it to patch something else for her.  I think she forgot about it anyway, because she was sick by then.  Today I will mend it.  Line it.  Finish it.  Just to  close  something between us.  Give it back in a way.

Speaking of commuting...it's been years since I left that rat-race.  I always loved this song.:

alternative video link if you see no video above.

ReConsidering Longing

 

Yesterday.  When I let fear go I uncovered  Button Face in the Wilderness.

AKA Miles From NoWhere and  now Longing.  The second cloth from here.  These two were rolled up together.  Inside the one I call Shelter.  

And now I am looking at this old thing.  Really Old. Found some old hair from some old cat on it.  Good old Nook hair.  Thinking new thoughts. Reconsidering Longing.  Thinking about it as a thread , sense, that runs through it all. Longing.

If you live long enough you might UnDo all things considered and then do it again.

Looking back on some early weaving

Many Turkish knots. I forgot to count.

 

Rainbow Squares. 18"x20". Wool on Wool

 

The old cat carpet has out lived the cat.   Many cats really.  The chewed spots are my favorite.  This one is on the wall for now until one of these circling beasts  decides I am ready  for a new friend.  Maybe they know. So I guess not time for a a new  cat yet.  But maybe time for some new carpet weaving. I've been talking about it long enough now. 

Many contemporary carpets are woven on cotton.  But a wool warp,  oh the difference.  The feel of it is so different. 

I love how the back looks so much like a basket.

A well made knotted carpet will wear quite well  if you don't chew on it.

late Afternoon Basket Moon moments

The only basket  I made myself,  that I still have,  has come undone quite beautifully without my help.   An old basket self, for a time forgotten, encourages more truthful  looking. 

In the year I became old,  I let the forgotten re-emerge.