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“Reckoning with myself” is just my way of saying that I’m working on stuff. In Part 1 I was musing about space to work and a few tapestry designs I’m still working on. I still don’t have an answer about the big tapestries, but I can say that I spent a fun weekend enlarging the cartoon for one of them using my projector and a roll of paper my grandmother had labeled like this:
I know all of us feel it in some way. There is a lot of chaos around the world and certainly in the USA. I find it hard not to take that chaos on emotionally and have been struggling to find calm spaces. As you might have noticed, this summer that has taken the form of frequent short backpacking trips. But I also think I’ve finally reached the point of no return with my studio space. The chaos has overwhelmed me and brought any forward progress in weaving large art tapestries to a grinding halt. The chaos is even on full display in my Change the Shed episodes—that is how far gone I am. I have ceased caring that thousands of people have seen my disaster of a studio on YouTube for months and months.
Time to fix that. Maybe cleaning is a normal response to chaos anyway. . . .
A few weeks ago when I found myself crying on the floor clutching a badly bruised foot after tripping on the video backdrop support in a cramped space, I decided it was time to fix the problem as much as I could. Moving isn’t an option in the world of COVID and neither is renting another space, so this one will have to become more user-friendly. I’m working on that and my goodness but it feels good to move stuff around, give some of it away, sell some of it, and gain more space to work. Maybe in the end, I won’t need a bigger space after all.**
I have a t-shirt that says “Weaving saved my life.” I’m not sure that is actually true, however, the amazing Sarah Neubert gave it to me and when I put it on I think of her courage and work in the world of weaving and it makes me smile. What I do feel this year is that backpacking has saved my life or at least my sanity over the last couple months. I was feeling mighty anxious and a bit frantic last weekend for reasons I can not pin down, and three days in the woods made an incredible difference. Sleeping outside, watching moose through my binoculars, seeing osprey and marmots, and watching the full moon rise over my tent in the middle of the night* provided space, perspective, and calm. . . .
My backpacking kit includes a small loom and there is nothing I love more than sitting somewhere high in the mountains weaving or spinning. I’ve talked about my “tapestry diary” many times on this blog. I weave these little pieces as a way to keep myself working and processing ideas in tapestry but also as a way to remember places and events. It is quite effective actually. Spend a couple hours weaving a tiny tapestry about something and that memory comes back when I see the piece months or years later.
Last week Kathy^ asked a question in the Design Solutions class that has gotten me thinking more about the evolution of a tapestry design. After a week of thinking about it, I was still unable to answer Kathy’s question and I believe that is because the answer is different for every artist. She wanted to know where people get stuck in the design process and how do they manage to get unstuck.
Silvia Heyden is a wonderful example of someone who created her own system of weaving and managed to stay unstuck and prolific throughout her career.* Silvia took her inspiration largely from nature and her tapestry weaving style was informed by the structure of tapestry. Her work is abstract, colorful, and exciting.
I worked on several different making projects this week. I was struck by how much I approached two completely different sorts of projects in the same way. The first was the dye project I talked about last week. The red-orange yarn turned out quite well. I did 22 samples over four days of a color that I had dyed before. In the end, the dye formula I used was the first one—my old tried and true with only two dyes and a toner.*
The final answer was NOT one of those last skeins as I’d hoped in last week’s post, but it was a simple matter of changing the depth of shade slightly before I had it. Matching a color in yarn, including the feeling and depth of that color, isn’t a one-shot deal. Maybe if this had been the yarn I usually dye it could have been, but it was not my yarn. I started by dyeing 8 colors in jars from several different formulas. Some were sort of close, some were not remotely close. In one I inverted the proportion of colors when writing out the formula and ended up with hot pink.
While teaching in Taos, NM in January, I visited the Harwood Museum. I saw many marvelous things there, one of them being the Agnes Martin room. On my Tacoma trip this month, I wove a tapestry diary piece in tribute to Agnes Martin (1912-2004). . . .
I wanted to play with these feelings in a tapestry diary piece both to think more about how her paintings were constructed physically but also as a way to remember my reaction to the work. The tiny 2 x 2 inch tapestry is nothing like an Agnes Martin painting, but the experience of making it absolutely cemented something about the work in my mind and made me excited to learn more about her creative experience.
The making of this little tapestry diary piece was nothing special and indeed, did not take long to weave. But the experience and process of making it helped me revisit the art in my mind and think again about how and why it was made.
