Spirit Cloth

Love in a Scrap Basket

Looking for answers in a scrap basket...

(I love working on the floor. It reminds me of when I was smaller.)

And finding them!

Still some weaving into imagined.

 

Slow Answers

Oh ha!

Now I feel like I'm back.

 

I looked at these pics here on the blog and it felt like home. Again. It took the worry out of Eventually. If you look closely. She's dusty. The spirit of slow going had become dusty! This is all from way back , when I began blogging. For those who don't remember. Possibly even before (I think I can say if it's ok...) slow stitch was even  buzzing. Yup, back then there were mostly bees.

I caught a bee and it's shadow on the rail yesterday.

I've begun a slow weaving into. Mo's pennant project.

Thin silk into thin silk.

 

Cut and repair.

Mend the despair.

(You might find more about the possibilities of "weaving into" in the Cloth Weaving class listed under the Feel Free Classroom in the right sidebar here on the blog. Here. At least for now until the Feel Free site re-opens soon enough. As always I thank you all for your kind support, sometimes I cannot get through to your paypal emails to give you a big hug.)

 

Moving Beyond

Moving Beyond _____________.

(a little game of fill in the blank, but use one of your own weaknesses. For a change.)

Lucky

The man, he is a lucky guy.

He says,"C'mon, I'll take you shopping."

I say, "...nah, let me mend it..."

Marked from the fall. There was mud and rocks whatever. Right near a muddy swampy pond. This did not come out. Looks like a blood stain but there was no blood. I could plant dye over it, but I'm I'm in a chair for now.

Nancy made a sweet comment on my last post. About lucky stars. My lucky star shirt now. I'll count them. Probably too many to fit. The shirt will probably wear out before I'm done. Then I'll cut it up and start a blanket. Sleep under them.

Funny, thinking about how a symbol might change over time. Along with you. How a wishing star became a lucky star. I might write a little story about that.

I'll be back to morning posting in a week or so. Right now I am sleeping late because a bit of pain keeps me from falling asleep.

The Heart as a Patch

Because I was thinking... My heart is a patch if you need it...while just going and considering simpler times. Just checking in, testing mobile upload (which didn't work here yesterday) and waving.

See you in July. Most likely.

Friends

The squirrels are a bit unfriendly around here lately.

To me. To each other. This long season of uncertainty has affected all.

But in the last days, I've made friends with Rags.  He comes close. For nuts. And kind words. He's young. He's already tattered. He must have heard of my interest in mending. Or my need for assurance about connection. My interest in Story.

And speaking of story, I've added a new section to the main menu at Feel Free. Cloth Stories. A place for cloth friends. And what they have shared with me.  Gosh, I have so many memories to sort through. Since the weather report seems to indicate that it might rain forever, I have plenty of time.

Liquid Place

Reconsidering home once again.

Expressing a sense of gentleness. Perhaps softening the edge of ownership. Making home more of a welcoming determination to survive without interrupting that right for others.

I suppose this is a new symbol. I call it the Mending Star. I might trace it back to prior musings, But that will take me some time. Perhaps I am indeed reconsidering wishing. My stars became wishing stars along the way. Linked to hope more than anything. But romanticizing a fix for something isn't really a commitment to anything concrete. So I bring it clearly back to a type of patchwork. Such a simple and useful thing with a clear intention.

 

 direct link to audio if you see no player

Liquid Place Guided by a Mending Star. Calling it that. Today. A long cloth, which implies it might be a path. A way.

Early Quiet

Cold.

Waiting for a wood dump which will take up most of the day. Stacking.

Thinking mostly about how what I stitch (make)(do) catches thought without having to say so. Thinking how what we do simply reflects how things move through us. Considering how much intellectual drama is attached to that by some folks (including self) and how really it is simply the way it is.  How can that not be true? Maybe some folk just have not considered the value of it in the same way. In real life it is all just mending. Patchwork. Keeping it together.

A small round table has always been a favorite tool of mine. A small round table near a window is even better. And if someone made it for you, even better.

Mostly a basting table. I like a circle that I can reach across. How I can twirl the piece around to get at it and stay on the edge. Just enough flat surface. Not too big for a small room. I'm still adding a silk lining. Piece by piece because I have small pieces. It's a bit slow. It's like walking. One stitch at a time. Not a running stitch. A walking stitch. I call it that. Because. Because that's how it seems to me. I tell you that so you might know me better.

Some days people annoy me. Some days I annoy myself. Sometimes when it's very quiet I hear myself saying "cut the shit and just try to explain".

We'll be stacking wood today. Stacking is like stitching. Walking.

Yesterday's Cloth

The old moss coated roofing was rolled back like a carpet, became like old cloth.

At one point, holes right through where the studio was leaking.

They were amazing. Video over at Instagram...

One day. It was loud but there was mending. It seems very quiet today. We'll paint tomorrow.

It's important to call out good work and fair pricing. Need shelter from the storm? If you are in the New York area I highly recommend Dan Krulder and his crew. 631-702-0414. And say hi for me.

It's August already and that amazes me. We've so much to do.

 

Summer

Summer has turned. I can feel it but really I can hear it more.

Bug songs. The world turns.

We say a fond goodbye to the mossy roof this weekend. It seems there is more moss than roof and it needs to be mended. The torrential rains only get worse and it has become ridiculous. Too much water damage. So we bite the bullet and go for it. Nice guy, one day he says. Monday. One long and noisy day. The red is more expensive so we've settled for tree bark color. Good enough.

Stitching has been slow. The breasts are like baskets. Even how they are forming. There has also been some vibrating inward. As it all moves through her.