Red Thread Studio

MIrror Work

I've fixed the link to the Shining Cloth Gallery in the previous post. Thanks, Jude, for alerting me, and thanks to everyone for nice comments. 

After writing the last post, I had a funny revelation about shining cloth, mirror work and the way it's been used for protection. I had a really challenging week, in which I completely lost my center and my sense of worth; all kinds of people were projecting all kinds of negative stuff on me, or else presenting themselves for applause and approval from me without wanting to give anything back or show any loyalty. It took me all week to piece together exactly why I felt so bad. No victims here -- I seem to set myself up for these situations; not a surprise, since I grew up in a family where it is a veritable tradition to project all dysfunction onto me. I even had a dream about Yoko Ono, surely the archetype for a woman upon whom all manner of negativity was projected, and one who paid a price for not being a conventional giggly girl. 

I'm not sure how to handle it better, and I don't want to overshare, but as I was having this realization about projection, I thought -- that's what the mirror work is all about! I need more glittery shiny cloth to deflect it all. 

Back at the ranch, I have been turning over and over my thoughts on Heather's post about not calling herself an artist, in reaction to so many people posturing as artists when they appear to be just dallying in one craft trend after another. Each time I start to write about it I find myself in the quagmire of art vs. craft, of how women (mostly) devalue their work and don't take themselves seriously, of how not wanting to appear self-promotional or conceited makes us hesitate to claim our position. I also agree with Heather to some degree, and I've posted about it often enough to not retread old ground, but I do think there's some arrogance floating around in the craft world from people who proclaim themselves experts without much expertise. That's why I began thinking about Slow Cloth, and trying to identify and articulate the value in honoring multicultural textile traditions.

I'm ambivalent myself. I studied art, I have a cum laude degree in art from a fairly reputable institution, and from the time I was about 6, being an artist was the life I have wanted. Yet for many years I haven't lived it consistently enough to feel comfortable freely calling myself an artist now (I'm working on it, but when I try it on for size I squirm). I don't have a current body of work that looks like it all came from the same person exploring themes or ideas in depth. 

So that's the task in front of me, because I do want to be able to call myself an artist with comfort and pride and no twinges of impostorship. Fortunately, I have people in my life who have known me longer and think of me as an artist. For a long time my artistry, such as it is, has existed only in the reflection they give me (another kind of mirror work), and I'm very grateful for it. 

What makes an artist, and what makes us afraid of getting down to work when it's all we want to be? Eric Maisel, in Coaching the Artist Within, says that the first step is believing that you matter. I think there are parallels here with yoga. There are postures in yoga that are very, very difficult to do if you're feeling terrible about yourself. They're not difficult physically, but something inside has to be willing to enter into a powerful stance that reflects a strong but balanced ego. A false front won't work  -- the minute you lose humility and start congratulating yourself on your fine asana, you'll stumble.

In belly dance, as well, it's impossible to dance well (and I'm a beginner, so take this for what it's worth) if you don't feel beautiful, if you can't lift your sternum and open your heart and find the part of you that is a channel for alluring grace, who is deserving of adoration, even if you're 50, menopausal, and society is telling you repeatedly that you're invisible and unwanted.

This is all loaded with risk. Ask Yoko Ono! And thanks for reading another loooong post about me and this strange time in my life. More on textile resources and ideas and links and art soon. 

Sparkle Plenty

Okay . . . armed with the patience of a new morning, I'm going to rewrite the post that "the new Typepad" destroyed yesterday. Don't you love it when something in your life is working just fine -- and you don't mind spending the money it requires -- and then, through no fault of your own, it completely goes to hell but still costs you money? Kind of like our banking system. And you get condescending little notes from the people taking your money. So, can anyone recommend a better blog program, and guidance on how difficult it is to switch? I don't want to lose the content here, but I'm frustrated beyond words and reluctant to launch my new Making Good blog on this platform.  I use a Macintosh with system 10.3.9, apparently too ancient for the cutting-edge "new" Typepad. Way to make your best customers obsolete, Typepad. 

Back at the ranch, I got my brochure for next year's Surface Design Association conference in Kansas City. I've been a member of SDA for many years and written for both the Journal and the newsletter, but I've never attended the conference because it was always a busy time of year in my former  organic foods world. This one looks too good to miss, though. My friend Harmony is speaking on organic fabric, and there are too many compelling workshops and speakers to count. 

I'm very interested to hear Victoria Z. Rivers' talk, called "Textilian: A Career in Textile Explorations," as it sounds like she verily defines the "global textile explorer" way of life, my dream job. Dr. Rivers teaches at the University of California at Davis, where on my more optimistic days I think about applying for graduate school in textiles/cultural studies (again -- I was accepted there once and foolishly didn't go). 

Dr. Rivers is the author of The Shining Cloth, a gorgeous book about textiles embellished with metallic thread, beads, mirrors and other glittery forms in every culture through the ages. And you must go visit the beautiful Shining Cloth Gallery Web site that she's created, where you can view a whole spectrum of textiles like this:

For millennia, cultures have used shining objects in textiles for protection against the evil eye, to denote status and rank, and just for beauty. Here's what Dr. Rivers says in her book synopsis:

"The most basic question the book addresses is why humans devote so much of their time and resources into the making or acquiring of shining surfaced textiles, which are hardly necessary like food and shelter, for survival. Glimmering fabrics, dress, and adornment are prominent in the material culture of people around the world and serve societies on many levels. The first important use of shining surfaces, which appears very early in the history of visual culture, reflects ancient solar worship and the gods of the upper world. Over time, substances like gold and mirrors transitioned from symbolizing the deified sun and purifying firelight to banishing evil and protecting fertility. Through deified solar gods, the power of the golden sun was transferred to gold-wearing god-kings and eventually became synonymous with wealth. 

The evil eye, the malevolent gaze from an envious person, is believed to ruin fertility and bring about misfortune, but glimmering materials distract the dangerous gaze from the wearer, so that the person is 
symbolically shielded. Light reflecting materials play prominent roles in cultural exchange, economic development, and geographical exploration through trade. Shimmering surfaces convey cultural identity and social distinctions such as hierarchy, social accomplishments, and leadership. Some shiny substances are often used to express the male/female metaphor through the contrast of paired opposites like hard shell and bead, or male materials with soft textile, or female substances. Shining embellished textiles and dress are frequently used to symbolize or communicate with the spirit world, encapsulate soul force, and to reflect blessings of one's ancestors. Equally importantly, the artifacts represented in The Shining Cloth reflect the human spirit, sense of beauty, high levels of artistry and skill obtained, and peoples' abilities to constantly innovate and delight with natural substances.

Because they're so ubiquitous, we often take the beauty and power of our best textiles for granted, but these two paragraphs are such an excellent reminder of their meaning. Now Typepad is acting crazy again, so I'm going to post this before it disappears again. 

Enigmatic Equinox

The immeasurably talented Steve reminded me tonight that I haven't posted in a week. I think it's quite amazing that he reads my blog, since he makes music, not stitches, so I'd better write something interesting. I did finish the big work project . . . and my taxes. . . and then promptly fell into a trough of discouragement for a couple of days. Yesterday, though, was art therapy all the way. It was Open Studios weekend in my town, and I went to the studio of my friend and teacher Judith Trager, whose righteous motto is "eschew cute," and to the studio of Susan Wechsler, a prolific mosaic artist who makes beautiful spirit houses aligned with the nine themes of the feng shui bagua (technically eight plus the center), and extraordinary Buddha shrines. 

Last night I went to a concert of classical Indian music and katha dance; my dance teacher was one of the musicians. These are incredibly rich and nuanced art forms with an ancient heritage, and since I've been stitching shisha mirrors, and getting unexpected e-mails from Bombay from someone who read a yoga article of mine, and talking with Acey about India, it all had a lovely synchronicity. They played a beautiful evening raga that brought tears to my eyes with its sense of twilight descending at the end of the day, on the penultimate evening of summer. 

By today I was myself again, regrouping and making plans. I began to configure another blog, to be focused on commercial organic, ethical, sustainable and artisan textiles and apparel. One of the reasons I started blogging was to help redirect my career and move my job search forward; this blog has become more of a personal art space and a place for other artists, crafters, culturalists and the Slow Cloth-minded to find me, and that's just as it should be, but it seems I also need a professional space of some kind. 

For anyone interested, I have an article on the sustainable apparel market in the current issue of Organic Processing magazine, and another article coming out in a new publication in November on sustainable and organic fabrics for home sewers -- more on that soon. And if any of you get the Gaiam holiday catalog, why, I wrote some of the catalog copy for that -- distinctive, I'm sure!

And in the midst of all this, there have been many conversations, internal and external, about where to go from here, what it means to be an artist today and how to commit to a disciplined creative path. It looks like there will be more market research reports to pay the bills, but I'm thinking about graduate school, new book proposals, relocating to a place with more opportunity, all of the above, and trying to be open to it all and patient and ready for the moment when the universe makes its move. How to finance anything is a really good question right now. 

And as you might guess, I'm not done with politics yet! "For the Swing Vote" -- 

Harvest Moon

The Harvest Moon has risen brilliantly in the night sky, and will be exactly full at around 3 a.m. Mountain time. It's become my ritual to look and see what Jessica Prentice has to say in Full Moon Feast. She calls it Moon When Salmon Return to the Earth, and writes a long, fascinating essay about fish, interdependence, and a gift economy vs. a commodity economy. As our commodity economy falls apart on Wall Street, it's a good time to think about what we harvest and what we share. Have a beautiful, creative, romantic full moon.

Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleeping

We could dream this night away

But there's a full moon rising

Let's go dancing in the light

We know where the music's playing

Let's go out and see the night

Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this Harvest Moon. 

 -- Neil Young, Harvest Moon

No Time Like The Present

Just a quick note to say that there will be new posts coming soon -- I've got another week of major work deadlines and I must do my taxes from last year this weekend. There are few tasks I can manage to procrastinate longer than that one, but time's up. I'm writing great posts in my head, though, seriously. And I do want to thank marvelous Rayela at Fiber Focus for giving me the Brilliante Blog award. It's quite an honor coming from her own brilliant and creative mind; thank you, Rayela. I'll follow up on it soon and pay it forward.

I'll be back soon!

Visual Feasting at Canadian Tapestry and Linnet

Arg . . . I just wrote a long post and accidentally deleted it. Starting over. This is NOT something you want to do with the new and not improved Typepad interface, as writing just one post might drive you insane, let alone two.

Since I seem to have Canada on the brain, I can't say enough about the phenomenal Canadian Tapestry site by the Textile Museum of Canada.  (I've linked to the Flash version of the site.) Start anywhere -- it will take you on a veritable mind-map of textiles and culture in every part of the world and in every textile technique. 

My search for more information on shisha mirror embroidery took me to this page, with its stunning example of a richly embroidered shisha'd garment. By clicking on the buttons below the image, you can view it in fine detail. A world map shows the textile's origin, there is brief and interesting text, and you can choose to go further and view:

• more textiles with mirrors
• more embroidered textiles from India
• drawings of stitches used
• a drawing of mirror work
• other works from the region
• interactive activities for kids
• multiple entry points for other works in the collection. 

By generously putting its collection online in such an ingenious way, the Museum truly fulfills its mission of "connecting cloth, culture and art," -- some of my favorite words -- in a way that's easy to navigate and incredibly valuable, whether your interest is Asian textiles, Native American leather and beadwork, European and North American quilting -- you name it. The cultural diversity of Canada makes this a starting point for a virtual textile journey to almost anywhere on Earth.  You can also visit the Museum's home page and see current exhibitions. 

The Textile Museum in the United States also has a good Web site, though not as fully developed. Can anyone recommend other textile museums and collections with strong Web resources from around the world? 

When you're full from the rich feast that these sites offer, go and cleanse your visual palate at Linnet, a Japanese site (with English version) with a blog and shop that specializes in exquisitely simple and beautiful linen fabrics. There are also some intriguing patterns, if you like the spare Japanese aesthetic, and I want all of these linen ribbons, especially the gray with a delicate line of silver stitching. These ribbons look like they're woven on the straight grain but it did start me thinking about making some linen bias tape. Linnet ships abroad; prices are in yen but you can do a quick currency exchange here. 

When you're ready for the next course in your visual feast, Karen Cattoire is an artist doing some wonderful contemporary shisha embroidery. This is from her Bead Journal Page. 

Refuge of the Roads

These are the clouds of Michelangelo

Muscular with gods and sungold

Shine on your witness

In the refuge of the roads.

-- Joni Mitchell, Refuge of the Roads

These last two weeks were a rollercoaster. I got a little carried away with the political drama. As much as I was energized and inspired by the first week, I was exhausted and repulsed by the sneering, bitter aggression of the second. I know not everyone will agree with me, but you can take it or leave it. Yesterday I had to pull back; I finished a chapter of the market research report on the exciting world of sugar and sweeteners that's currently paying my bills; I made dust covers for my sewing machines (actual skills involved!); I took a long time for yoga; and I contemplated my ultimate Plan B, leaving the country. 

I'm a dual citizen of Canada by virtue of being Canadian-born, and I'm always glad to hear from my Canadian readers since I could be your neighbor soon. I haven't spent much time there -- only my first year of life in Edmonton, and part of my 18th year in a tiny apartment on Isabella Street in Toronto, where I learned to drink Grand Marnier from my urbane roommates and had most of my worldly goods stolen by a neighbor whose girlfriend had left him; he thought that gifts of my clothes and jewelry might bring her back. The soundtrack that year was Hejira and Running on Empty and Bonnie Raitt on 8-track tape, and the snowfall set records.

In the airport on the cold February day that I left Toronto, a man approached me to ask if I wanted to go and be a blackjack dealer at the Calgary Stampede. A road not taken, and he was probably asking something else entirely, but the cowgirl archetype has been a part of me ever since.  I met a friend of spirit, he drank and womanized. What if. 

I bought fabric there that winter and made a Dresden Plate quilt from instructions in McCall's Needlework & Crafts, now very faded and torn:

It makes me think now of Dijanne's incredible Traveller's Blanket, which I've been meaning to mention for some time. Her work is mesmerizing and beautiful, as always, and the concept is mystical and rich -- I love the depth of her research and inspiration. Here is what Dijanne wrote about it:

The blanket is inspired by the idea that the maker is a traveller in the footsteps of Ibn Battuta, one of the great travellers from medieval times in the decade or so preceding Marco Polo - and the fragments of fabric that he sews to the blanket are an aide de memoire of his experiences , but, as he is also a fabric merchant it is his way of memorising cloth to be replicated in the future when he is home - it's a bit of a play on the idea of memory of cloth and memory as a sensation rather than a photographic record.

So my old quilt is a traveler's blanket of a different sort, still an aide de memoire of a strange journey. The I Ching has a hexagram for the traveler, #56, The Wanderer or Sojourning. "You are a stranger in a strange land, whose identity comes from a distant centre," says my translation by Stephen Karcher. But with a peripatetic childhood, my identity -- fractured though it has always been - had to come from within. What does a traveler's blanket look like when the traveler never returns home?

Stitch and Let Stitch: Craft Culture Wars

It's interesting to find yourself on the leading edge of the culture wars, and no, I'm not talking about Scary Sarah Palin, though I've been commenting a-plenty to some of the political columns. (On that subject, best line I've heard and wish I'd written? "A woman voting for this ticket is like a chicken voting for Colonel Sanders.") 

No, this culture war is about the new generation of crafters and "old-schoolers" like me who believe there's some value in skill. The story is "The Ambassador of Handmade," from the New York Times. In part:

The democratic world view of the modern crafter — the unschooled, technique-and-judgment-free energy of it all — is what pulls many in. “I’m no seamstress, I can’t hem anything, and I’m too impatient to learn how to knit or crochet,” Ms. Levine said, “but I love just stitching.” 

It is also what irritates old-school craftspeople, those who might have come out of the American studio crafts movement of the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s. Yet their ideals are the same, according to Andrew Wagner, the editor of American Craft magazine, which redesigned itself last year in an attempt to bridge the two worlds.

Mr. Wagner, a founding editor of Dwell magazine, went on to say, “It’s still about working outside the mainstream, and making a living doing what you love. We saw this huge new movement, which Faythe is cast as sort of the poster child for, and it and the old guard weren’t communicating.” 

There was, Mr. Wagner said, some real hostility: “The old guard was saying: It took me 20 years to master my craft, and these kids think they can start by just stitching owls.” 

“It would be incorrect to say there’s nothing of quality coming out of the D.I.Y. world,” he continued, “but what they bring to the table is what’s important. Their energy is infectious, which is why I call D.I.Y. the punk rock of the craft world.” 

In the current issue of American Craft, an article titled “DIY Grows up: The Political Power of the Do-It-Yourself Movement,” chews over the state of the crazy quilt it has become: the fairs awash in money from corporate sponsors, the huge market for the objects sold there and the confusion that has arisen for the makers. 

Is a handmade object still subversive if buyers are willing to pay more for it than the maker could afford to pay herself? Do the tight bonds of the community and its micro-economies trump the appetite of mainstream culture for the authenticity those bonds and economies represent?

“The handmade look is definitely a trend everywhere, from the art world to the stores,” Ms. Levine said. “But I think it helps the community, because someone can go to Urban Outfitters and then to a craft fair and relate that look back. It makes it all stronger.” 

Still, she said, “I do understand the turn-offs. If you see 100 owls, it’s hard not to get annoyed and bitter."

Well, I'm not bitter. I'm patient, and I say stitch away -- it's harmless, though I think it's a lot more subversive to actually be able to hem something if you're all about self-sufficiency and being able to live independently of mass-market culture.  If all you can do is make owls you'll be bored with this and on to the next thing in a year or so.

Lots of food for thought here. 

In the bookstore a few weeks ago, I picked up a very pretty book on vintage fabrics that's been getting some heavy advance publicity. It truly looked gorgeous and enticing. I looked at the projects and one of them, I kid you not, instructed on how to make a dust cloth out of old fabric. Do we need to be told how to do this? Is this the current excuse for craft? 

I know I've had a few curmudgeonly posts lately in this realm, but please. I'm insulted by How to Make a Dust Cloth. Live and let live, stitch and let stitch, do not put down my interest in real art and craft and I won't mock your skill-free army of owls, but do not give me instructions on tearing up old clothes into dust cloths and call it craft. 

Om on the Range

oops  - I wrote this last Friday but forgot to take it out of draft mode. Here it is . .

Yes, I'm still basking in the afterglow of last night's phenomenal Obama speech. Today feels like it should be a holiday, but of course the real holiday will be November 5, when we send Bush back to Crawford. By the way, Obama supports this legislation that allows artists to take a tax deduction for the full market value of works they donate to educational institutions and nonprofit organization. 

I've finished the beaded center medallion for the piece for my yoga space -- here it is with some of the fabric I have for the backing, which will be pieced, stitched and shisha-ed:

I wanted those pure, bright colors of India and fortunately have some on hand. The magenta silk was sent to me a few years ago from Malaysia, from the man who introduced me to the power of yoga and gave me the means to do it as a daily, lifelong practice. 

Everybody's talking about The Textile Blog, and for good reason. This blog is a terrific, serious exploration of textile design and history. This is NOT your interchangeable design-craft blog with the latest cute fabric with polka dots or birds and a commentary that goes something like, "Oooooh!! I Love this! Don't you Love Love Love this?!!!!" without any explanation of what it is that they Love! about it. There's nothing wrong with those blogs, but there's no there there -- no opportunity to train the eye to recognize good design, or understand the context of the design or the textile. If you just want to look at cute patterns by the latest Amy Butler wannabe -- and sure, sometimes we all do -- this is not the site you want to bookmark, but if you want to advance your textile vocabulary and challenge your eye for beauty and pattern, then it definitely is. 

I've happily joined Rayela's FiberFocus Ning site, though I have to admit I'm not great with keeping up with the Ning community activity. Despite that, Rayela's Fiber Focus blog is a fantastic resource; we share a lot of the same instincts about textiles, culture and sustainability, and I'd love to write for her blog sometime. 

For some inspirational fine artisan clothing and accessories, visit Asiatica.  These are understated, elegant, gorgeous pieces, many made with vintage Japanese silks. 

Finally, I got a lovely e-mail from Jane Dunnewold, whom you may know as the author of Complex Cloth and other books. If you haven't visited her Web site for ArtCloth Studios, go see. It's full of great writing and fascinating ideas, tutorials, resources . . . Jane is a true Slow Cloth artist with a deep reverence for both textile traditions and modern aesthetics; her success is much deserved, and I'm very glad that she visited this blog and honored that she found interesting ideas here. I've got her Finding Your Own Visual Language on my wish list. 

I know there is a lot in this post (I've been collecting links all week) -- thanks for reading all the way through. Have a great weekend and look to the future.

Making Good: The Sewing Machine Project

With another hurricane hammering Louisiana and its neighbors, it's a good time for a reminder about Margaret Jankowski's nonprofit Sewing Machine Project. The organization began after the tsunami in Southeast Asia and then turned to helping those rebuilding after Katrina by collecting, servicing and delivering sewing machines to those in need. You can help by donating a machine, fabric, patterns and notions, or money. 

Imagine losing everything you have, or almost everything -- and then imagine how helpful it would be to have a good working sewing machine as you rebuild. Sewing could be enormously useful in strictly practical terms -- curtains, quilts, clothing, even soft furnishings -- and then of course there's the possibility of real creative satisfaction and community. The Sewing Machine Project also helps organize volunteers to teach people to sew and to use the machines. 

The Sewing Machine Project is also helping get sewing machines to Midwesterners rebuild from this year's terrible floods.