Blog
My studio table has been covered with mounting projects for a few weeks now. I sold a handful of small-format tapestries and not all of them were mounted. I also finished a small tapestry that was a donation to Petrified Forest National Park from my artist residency last November. (Read about that HERE.)
I have been posting photos on Instagram as I worked on this but thought I'd show you the steps all in one place.
Tapestry weaving is a slow process. The image is built slowly in layers, one bit at a time. My process of weaving felt very similar to the geologic processes that created Petrified Forest National Park. In my month in the park, I hiked as much of it as I could and I was constantly amazed at the beauty of the layers in the rock. I also thought a lot about the span of time represented there.
My work often addresses the nature of time through the influence of landscape. In some ways, being able to look back at events that happened hundreds of millions of years ago in the rocks and petrified wood in the Park helps put our daily human struggles into some perspective. In a world full of short term gratification and goals, taking the long view, whether it is through appreciation of how the landscape was formed or through slowly building up a tapestry image in yarn, helps shift perspective and can even provide hope for the future.
I signed up for Spinzilla this year. I'm on Team Shuttle Spinners. That is the team of my favorite weaving shop, Shuttles, Spindles, and Skeins in Boulder, CO. It is owned by the marvelous Maggie Casey who, against all odds, has managed to make me a mediocre spinner and is working on making me an excellent one a little at a time (it would help if I practiced more, so don't blame Maggie--she has worked miracles already). Spinzilla is an opportunity for me to improve my skills. I am just a tad competitive, so having a challenge to spin as much as possible in one week does get me to spin when I might have otherwise opted for a glass of Pinot Grigio on the couch with a novel.
In case you've never heard of Spinzilla (and why would you have if you're reading a tapestry blog?), it is a week-long spinning challenge set up in teams all over the world. It is run by TNNA, The National NeedleArts Association, and the proceeds benefit youngsters learning fiber arts.
My goal this year was to spin three miles. There are 1760 yards in a mile and I thought certainly I could spin three times that... but my performance so far has not been as expected and because I'm trying to be more focused about goals and marking my daily "progress" through life, today I looked at last year's take to see what I was able to do. The truth was a little discouraging: less than a mile.
Today I had five people ask the same question in my online classes. Granted, this question is one I get at least a few times a week, but today was a red letter day. When that happens, it is time to put some answers out to the wider world because I know some of the rest of you experience this also.
The question is: Why do my warps bunch up a half inch to an inch in from the selvedge?
As many of you know, I was an occupational therapist for 17 years and still hold state and national licenses. I have seen so many fiber artists and crafters with injuries that meant they had to scale back or stop their beloved fiber activities that I have used my therapist expertise to address these issues in the tapestry workshops I teach. So I was completely thrilled to see the book I'm reviewing here hit the shelves. I did a little dance when I saw it at my LYS last week (Shuttles, Spindles, and Skeins in Boulder has some copies--go get one or ask your local yarn store to carry it).
Ergonomics is just a fancy word for how we interact with the environment. It addresses how we use our bodies for safety, comfort, health, and productivity. And as a fiber artist, how I use my body is of paramount importance especially given all I know about what can happen when we don't take care of our most important equipment. I spend a lot of time every day in activities that are very repetitive (including typing this) and I bet you do too.
There are occasional days where I find myself curled up in a ball on the floor of my studio hoping things will be different when I finally prop myself back up emotionally enough to continue. This doesn't happen often, but yesterday was one of those days. I stepped backwards and tripped over my spinning wheel, landing in a pile of yarn and fleece (thank goodness for small mercies and the soft nature of my medium) and I lay there and cried. I wasn't hurt, just frustrated by how far behind I felt and by the mound of items on my to-do list that never get done.
I don't always know what causes these days where things feel so hard, but I'm noticing lately that many people are feeling the same way. This makes me feel like less of a loser for the struggle and it reminds me that we need to support each other when times feel tough.
Shocked again. I still can't believe how big it is, this tapestry I'm about to start weaving.
There was another moment in April when I was shocked by the size of the piece. But time makes one forget and there were a lot of workshops to teach between April and today. So when I got the cartoon officially blown up last week, I had another shock.
In April I was an artist-in-residence at Hambidge in Georgia and I spent some of the time creating a full-size mock-up of this tapestry design. It was just done in cheap paper and my goal was just to see the true size of the forms and to be able to move them around at full size to see if I liked them. I also needed to check what the curves would actually look like so I could choose an appropriate sett for the piece.
