I always stop short of mending this one.
It just seems so great.
It has batting because it was a pillow and I wanted some puffiness.
I almost feel like it is predicting snow.
Today there is fog.
And Magnolia has about had it.
Still beautiful.
Still at it.
This Cloth.
It has the feel, the look, of those ancient cloths that caught my eye in the pages of books, so long ago.
I can say it took forever to get here. Am I trying to go backwards? No. I was, am, still going and I think that's just what might happen. Maybe a circle is closing. The cloth is older, I am older and slower and it is all patched together, holding.
The face from inside.
Just a few moments to reflect.
I did not plan to focus on the Robe thing in such detail here in "Large Cloth".
But how it goes is simply how it is. And I let you lead me my friends. Lead me and accompany me at the same time.
You might recognize this robe "Without End" from one of the videos I published from the Contemporary Boro class in the last few days. It's the one made from grandma's linen curtain. With the binding made from scraps of my son's baby quilt. It was patched and dyed and mended and worn. My first attempt at ROBE. Dates back to 1975 or so. And then the cloth began to weaken. To honor it I undid the seams and attached it to a foundation cloth for support. To take the strain of tension away. It is now a wall cloth. And I renamed it Temple. It is not a religious statement. It is symbolic of a dwelling place for an aging deep seated feeling of honor. I have only begun to put this together, it has been hanging on walls for a while and needs more stitch.
I put this here today simply to emphasize how one thing might become another. And still be useful. It could have become a blanket. Maybe it is now an art cloth. One I wanted to create , wanted it to make an impact. Maybe just a Ceremony. Because I needed it as a reminder of how I feel about cloth. In a new way it is still a robe. It wraps me in peace. And tells, to me, my own story.
How strange,it has grown larger now, Larger than Life.
Not life as usual, although I can pretend.
Life is flashing before my eyes.
I am not focused on anything in particular.
I probably posted this pic before. It's Dad and me. It hangs over my table now. I think of Dad in Spring. Yes, his birthday is around now but it is the season, the garden, the simple love of life that bring him here to me. How he was right about so many simple things. I remember him saying, "Everything is just growing". I remember him as a blanket.
So many bits and pieces tacked up around here with no particular reason except to look. The Hopeful Beast caught my eye. Maybe I need to stitch a few in between endless worrisome chores.
Cloth still hanging around, everywhere, having lost my energy with the Gallery/Shop project. Just seems petty at the moment. I am distracted. Time seems unnaturally short.
This one, a patchwork fragment from a pillow I made for Mom years ago. She wore it out. I think it's ready to be reborn. I've done some dyeing over it. I keep touching it as I walk by.
I love light switches. That thing that makes it dark or light. They are simple magic. Reminders of on and off.
I will do a simple preliminary audio test here tomorrow. To see if I might just be here and not on Wordpress. Simple and slow is on my mind. There's nothing to do really, for you, if you want to follow my final workshop here. Just subscribe to the blog through email. And remember you must go back to your email to find the confirmation email and confirm your subscription to activate it. You can donate or not anytime, it is not an issue. I will make a broader announcement over the weekend, to make it official, so far I have only talked about it here.
The car battery is dead so today it's that, but the good news is the taxes are done and out of the way.
day 16 of year 70
So, Here we Are. I thought.
Two old rags. Then, p a u s e . . .
Rags are really one of the most useful things.
Then, big laugh. I hope one big laugh and big cloth become a morning ritual.
As I unroll what we carried here, I am feeling a release from expectation. An undoing. It's like an exhale. Right before a big deep breath.
Cloth is useful. Again.
This is the studio table now, not in the studio, but useful for spreading out, etc., as the temperatures remain below freezing for the 3rd day in a row. The table top was rocking a bit. A scrap of silk was just enough to change that.
All the cloth around here is used. As I age I relate more and more.
I'm not feeling right today. The chill is in me. I think I'll take it easy and do some extra napping.
The cold has also become useful. Helping us begin considering moving to someplace warmer than previously considered.
Looking back we see everything has been, is, will be...useful.
She has a few more stitches. Fringe. She continues.
Dad, who passed away in January, now years ago, his painting is in the background.
Years and years ago, I made this patchwork for a pillowcase.
I gave it to my mother.
It was one of my first patchworks where I departed from commercial fabrics. In fact the yellow squares at the border are cut from my high school gym-suit. I clearly remember high school gym. Probably because I was always embarrassed by the teacher because I was not athletic.
I got it back to repair. But time passed and so did Mom. It's not a pillowcase anymore. It's a story fragment. I cut part of it off to use in something else. I don't remember when or what. But it's probably buried in this blog somewhere. The indigo is new. I can say I patch with dye. And of course, there is a lot more to say about dyed patchwork when I pull it together. I hung this on the wall to remind myself to do that. I've not time for a lot of things right now.
It's raining. Way more rain than we need really. It just keeps raining. Yesterday, after waiting so long for a dry day, I had some wood dumped. I covered it with a tarp, not having time to stack. And expecting a shower. It's been raining all night and still raining. Like a monsoon. At sunrise, no tarp and a big pile of drenched wood.
Excuse me, but SHIT.
And so sew , it begins.
A little bit of a rocky beginning but love is not about easy.
Mo's pennant project, coming along...
I stitched a piece of old Japanese silk to the pennant. Stitched around the edge and then across here and there to stabilize. Then I cut away two sections. Leaving a bit of a skeleton. The old cloth supports another old cloth. One softening the other. And I felt a sense of transparency was good here. Love needs that. I will use very sheer cloth to complete this. To make sure the light continues to move through.
Let it be a soft day.
It will rain till Monday. The studio is closed from the cold. Amazing, May and cold. Not that cold but cold enough.
I will continue the hanging ceremony. This is good. I am rereading the blog at the same time. Uncovering old stories that go with old cloths. Imagine if I left them here. Out of context they become just like rags.
Old Cloth.
Isn't this great?
From the JOURNAL OF DESIGN and MANUFACTURES. Vol 5. 1851. London
An old book with fabric swatches. This one labeled CLOTH made by Haycock's Patent. Some special finish on wool. It's value to preserve color and sheen to be determined by time.
I love this idea of an old book, maybe a journal?, as a "bundle". I'm sure a hot humid studio helped a bit but who knows where this traveled before it met me.
I wonder how many of these were printed? I wonder if this happened to all of them in the same way? Or did their journey make a difference.
This gives me an idea. How about you?
PS. There is a comment issue with Typepad today. I cannot comment on any Typepad blogs and cannot reply to comments either. Hey ho. Seems ok now.
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung