gift of time

during this gift of time that i gave myself

avoiding traveling and instead doing some necessary things

i've cleaned. 

cleaned out the intensely untidy

and overstuffed closet in my studio.

which has lead to other things

as many cleaning projects do,

the bookshelves that hold equipment,

the unders- and overs- that also stashed "supplies"

mostly fiber in the form of

raw or prepared fiber

cloth

paper.

i found this little bag of madder root

that i bought from Trudy Van Stralen

the author of Indigo, Madder and Marigold

and

owner of Hilltop Wools

back in the 80's when I worked (briefly) for her. 

Trudy died in 2015, 

her business lives on run by her son, i believe.

i soaked them overnight or so 

and then cut them up a bit and then soaked more

 and cut them up again

nothing was longer than 1/2 inch by the time i was done, 

 i could have chopped them in the blender but i was tired of this work

and besides, i wanted to dye.

i'm not sure but i don't think i've ever done my very own madder dyepot.

i was once told by a *famous* (unnamed) dyer that madder goes bad after a while.

so i sent my newer bag off to a friend with good wishes for her to use it.

so in the ethers both tim mclaughlin and sarah swett recently became enamoured with madder.

i indulged myself after finding this old bag of 250 grams of madder.

i cooked on low heat, well under boiling, 

but i don't have a thermometer 

(well, i do, but can i find it?)

but it was a lovely color blood orange sanpellegrino 

stained the paint strainer bag

one little swath of kozo i just dipped in for a bit

part of my quest was to find fiber to dye so i can use my new tapestry pipe loom

with wool 

before i try the other stuff 

(do it proper first, gurl)

it was really almost red, 

but has oranged out some now.

meanwhile this was happening in the dining room 
while i unburdened all the containers, 

closet from hell, 

under the tables and etc.

there is an abundance that i wish i could be 

somewhat unburdened of.

this closet under the stairs is actually organized now.

this is the next big step after the fiber--

much fiber went to places--

the paper mills at home and at school,

some to recycle,

some to compost.

that box of bottles under my studio table is 40 years old

each bottle a lichen vat dye.

gifted to me by jean reynolds from cranberry lake.

in about 1980.

and my lovely partner has made a wagon from our trees he

marked for harvest

cut and hauled last winter. 

the sawyer came and made the boards

and it's now been screwed into a usable and "free" wagon.

a huge accomplishment.

home work

homework.

the best work.

quiet? thinking

KA BOOM!!!

pop pop thud.

a woman said to me: happy fourth of july.

i said, i've never heard that before!

it's my quiet day.

KA BOOM!

what irony, 
yet this is how it is today.

i have time to ponder.

i taught in beautiful victoria, bc,

meanwhile meeting* both jean and bryan

north country shifu for three days

a quick paper manipulation half day

and a one day textile/paper/book class

and boarded a ferry

sailed down the ocean trail to seattle

one woman (forgive me for forgetting names)

made this beauty.

 another (famous) woman stretched her skills

 and this class wanted more and more, 

so i took apart my journal

and traced the cover 

and they all learned to tread from textileness to bookishness

there was a vender market

maiwa stopped me, 

astonished, 

in my tracks.

that night i read A Quiet Manifesto

and was deeply moved 

thinking how i needed this 40 years ago

but i have it now.

as i work, teach, make more and more books

and paper,

and textiles,

i am finally thinking about what i'm doing.

so there's this: we have paths to walk

mine is what i want to do

what i am skilled at

but more, i want to touch, to enrich (maybe push a little bit) the life and work of others.

in a sense being fully present in my part of the cycle.

being a quiet sort

i teach.

i make books.

and i try to build a life that is whole.

i have several roles, don't we all?

but this 

t h i n g about f i b e r...

the thread that runs through it.

i have more to ponder

this quiet day

in a hotel

in seattle. 

*if you know bryan or jean you know they are powerhouses, and meeting is hardly the word. maybe experienced is more accurate.

fiber thinking

 top fiber: slippery elm

bottom fiber: hollyhock

slippery elm, hollyhock

slippery elm

hollyhock
potential

fiber/re

i don't remember when exactly i stopped spinning only wools and protein fibers and started spinning cellulose fibers. in school, i learned to weave first and later to make paper from cotton and linen rag. i did not learn to spin, though we had two spinning wheels in the studio at buffalo state, an ashford and a penguin. getting my hands on all natural fibers was not easy then. the studio was plumb full of glitzy synthetics.

i learned to spin on a drop spindle and my first yarns were... BAD. then i learned to dye using natural substances, again, after using synthetic dyes in school.

i never connected my love of paper, the collage pieces, the linen sheets, the blue jean edition to spinning or weaving. i never even thought there were any cellulose fibers out there that i would want to spin.

those early assumptions were split apart one by one... an early teacher post-college was rita buchanan who introduced me to the "hand" of many cellulose fibers. i met, and fell in love (at a distance) with shifu. it still never occurred to me that i might make paper that i would then spin and weave and use in a book.

so i learned about shifu from dorothy miller and later maryann mckeller swartz. after, i became aware of the plethora of ways the japanese have traditionally used cellulose fibers... and found bashofu.

more love, and i found a piece at sri threads, that now lives on my studio wall. quiet inspiration, abundance, actually. stephen recently blogged about bashofu.

my journey, however, continues with lokta, kozo, milkweed, and shifu. here's some lokta, ecodyed.

monday fibers

washing horsehair... i'm cleaning out the paper mill and found my stash of horsehair from my mare mist. so i washed it.

it smelled only a little of horse, but it was so her. silver gray hair from her mane. i will use it in a textile soon, i think. i saved it for the right time. which might be now.

luscious slippery elm bark i harvested for frank, a north country gift. a nice bunch, i found it isn't peeling as well as it did in spring. the summer is so advanced this year that peeling isn't easy and pleasurable like it is in may. but i think he'll have enough to make some paper and see what he thinks. i still haven't tried basswood inner bark. must do! also must harvest milkweed and dogbane. i'm a little weirded out by the ticks and really don't want to come home covered in them so i find myself avoiding tall meadows. silly of me, but there is lyme disease up here now. i'm feeling creepy crawly from harvesting that slippery elm. 

good news: i've had two books accepted in the sequenced fibers show in omaha this october. i am tickled; karen kunc is the juror, an artist i respect deeply. i also talked loooong with aimee who will be teaching in the brand new hanji studio (that she oversaw and helped build) at the morgan conservatory this weekend. and again later with my dear friend kathy. a day of friends, easy paced work, and not too warm summertime freshness. my kind of day!

fiber, cloth, books, dust

a little tapestry, one of a long series of landscapes. selvage irregularities are dimensional, and there's a row of glass beads. this may be the last of many tapestries, a landscape in spring. i photographed through its glass. cotton, silk, wool, quiviut, beads, some natural dyes and handspun. a simple piece, sold to someone who collects my work.

the more i work, the more it's woven into a tapestry. books currently inhabit my imagination, i often work small. that fiber legacy is always present, though. my mother's birth name was weaver. she started me sewing as a child on kleenex first, then rags when i gained some skill. finally embroidery on cotton. so now i search for my own meanings with threads, pictures, stories, paper and books. paper is spun and woven, rags are beaten into paper, or woven into cloth, cloth is worn and then shredded into paper, and sewn into books. it seems so connected. i avoid talking about the *meaning*, because it's irrelevant. the making isn't. 

shifu sampler close-up: kozo, walnut and indigo dyes, 4 epi.