Red Thread Studio

Full Blue Moon and the Last Year's Words

So here we are. The moon is full today in a blue moon, our second full moon of the month, and the year is over. If it weren't for the full moons keeping me to at least a minimal pace, I might have gone months without blogging; it's good to have nature's rhythm section keeping time.

And nature laid down the law yesterday by ambushing me with a mean case of what I guess is sciatica - I've never had this before. I can move today without an ice pack, just barely! I guess I have a few structural issues to address. In Chinese medicine, sciatica is a major chi blockage. That sounds about right. So I will gently try to open the channels and let the energy flow again. It may also be related to watching 36 hours of Deadwood last week in an attempt to escape a holiday that was a little sadder than I'd hoped for. Brilliant series, though.

Looking back over the year's blog posts is a little painful, too, though I guess the end of a year is always, in part, a story of hopes and plans unrealized, and then there's always a January 1 for new plans and new hopes. Here's a look at some of my most popular posts of the year:

• Apparently a lot of people go to Google in search of sari quilts, so this post saw a lot of activity.
• African design in textiles, art, and fashion was very popular this year, so this post was hot. Today's New York Times has a new article and slideshow on the African influence in art and fashion. 
• I'm delighted that the post with the link to Rosalind Wyatt's work had many viewers.
• I definitely saw more searches for sustainable textiles and slow cloth. Many of those searches led to this post.

Posts on art and agriculture and the one with the link to WorldHum's story on traveling introvert-style also saw a lot of activity. I had a few favorites of my own: the post on visiting the Viet Nam Veterans Memorial is one -- that was a profound moment for me. I regret that the number (and perhaps quality) of posts dropped off after I started working full-time in the demoralizing windowless cubicle (but I'm reminded of Deb's lovely mantra: thanks for my present circumstances and for making me seek the horizon.)

So what's next? I dunno. I know that I live, create, and write in service of art, craft, textiles, culture, beauty, truth, love, and nature; in this always amazing and often tragic world, I aim for the Buddhist precept of joyful participation in the sorrows of life. I see now that 2008 was a year of digging deep and identifying some trauma and damage that colored my entire life, and charting a path of healing. 2009 has been a year of transition. I've hoped from the start that the process of this blog would help me work out what I'm supposed to be doing, and lead me to the next logical phase of my life; maybe that will materialize in 2010.

I'm grateful for my readers and visitors from 102 countries, especially those who return; grateful for every comment (sorry I'm having to preview comments again because of spam); grateful for those good enough to credit my ideas and links. Thanks for tolerating and even indulging my personal ramblings, music lyrics, odd circumnavigations, inconsistencies, blue valentines, curmudgeonly moods, and idealistic dreams. See you next year, with more art, more stitching, more commitment, more focus, and more joy.

For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice.

T.S. Eliot

Thoughts on a Year on the Midnight Clear

Warning: Long and rambling post. I know I keep talking about more frequent short posts, and I'm trying to get there, really!

Has this been a really strange month for everyone, or just me? Maybe I should say strange year, and I can't believe it's almost over. I  have twelve days off for the holidays, and I really need it to regroup and reconsider all that's happened this year, and my intentions for next year.

I'm at a stitching standstill. I can't seem to get moving on anything. It's partly that I'm so immersed at work with a particular side of the craft world; it's sucking up a lot of my textile energy. In the words of the most famous six-word autobiography, this year was not quite what I was planning. Remember last year? When I was all gung-ho about graduate school in cultural studies so I could create the job of textile anthropologist/global explorer/artist/author/sustainability expert/philosopher? Then the recession happened and I had to find a more stable income with health insurance. Then I spent the first few months of 2009 negotiating about the Washington job, spent a month there (yay museums) and ultimately decided not to take it, possibly my stupidest mistake biggest learning experience in a year full of 'em.

And now suddenly I've logged seven months in a different job, making ends meet, and many of the things that matter in my life are sitting in the way-back of the bus, and I can hear them clamoring for attention. I'm so grateful for the stability the job has given me, but also frustrated that opportunities came up that I could not fully embrace because I didn't have much flexibility. So I'm glad for a break and a chance to plan.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about how different art forms inform each other. Given the stitching gridlock, I've been looking at paintings and photographs as well as fabric and stitching. The New York Times (seriously, I could spend all day just reading their art, politics, writing and culture blogs) has a great blog called Lens, and if you are at all interested in photography as art, journalism, or cultural record, you should visit it. I was captured by this post on Librado Romero, a photographer who also paints. I have no photography skills (have you noticed?), but I'm looking for a new camera that will at least give me a better basic tool to learn to take a decent picture with. Right now I'm thinking Canon S90 or Panasonic LX3, if anyone has thoughts.

Last week, I rediscovered Richard Diebenkorn's paintings. The more you look at art, the more you see the kinship in what calls to you. Though I'm a stylistic omnivore, I always swoon over the painterly, color-field experience, the kind that's deeply emotional but also intelligent, not random, with both a spiritual quality and an inherent reference to nature and the material world. Diebenkorn's Ocean Park series is like this. The Orange County Museum of Art has an exhibition of this masterful series scheduled for spring 2010.

 

Richard Diebenkorn, Ocean Park #54, 1972

Richard Diebenkorn, Ocean Park #125, 1980

This article about Diebenkorn draws a parallel between his Ocean Park paintings and the work of Agnes Martin, who I've written about before -- I admire her work enormously. Alabama Chanin has been inspired by Agnes Martin for her spring collection of handmade couture. I like when these pieces fit together and there seems to be a context and a narrative that links the work I'm drawn to and the artists I admire. (Here is a good review of Agnes Martin's work from 1992.)

Closer to home, I've raved about Deidre Adam's stitched and painted quilts before; she's also a gifted photographer and is now making some amazing paintings. She's a wonderful example of someone who can explore different media with great fluidity and grace. I especially like that there is a unified vision and point of view in all of her work, no matter the medium; this may be what distinguishes a professional artist from a hobbyist with a short attention span, so her fine example is something worth aspiring to. Here are some of her newest paintings, reprinted with permission. Her story of these paintings is fascinating; read it on her blog here. 

Deidre Adams, Resonant State 2

Deidre Adams, Resonant State 4

I'll leave you with these images of beauty on this Christmas Eve. Thank you for being here all year, and a very sweet and soulful holiday to you; listen for the song of the angels. And a special thank-you to Laurie for paying forward my small gift; that made me very happy!

It came upon a midnight clear

That glorious song of old

From angels bending near the earth

To touch their harps of gold

"Peace on earth, good will to men

From heaven's all-gracious King,"

The world in solemn stillness lay

To hear the angels sing.

A Gift in Your Honor

December 1 is this blog's two-year anniversary. Despite all of my uncertainty about where to go with this blog, or how to find time to properly grow it, and my frustration with the way my life choices have turned out this year, this blog remains a source of great satisfaction and purpose for me, because of my wonderful readers. I am continually grateful that people from near and very far come by and visit and return.

I haven't been very good about responding to comments, but I truly love to receive them. Thank you to everyone who has written and shared thoughts and ideas. Thanks to everyone who has linked to this blog and honored best practices of giving credit for the thoughts conceived and expressed here. And despite my ambivalence about Facebook in general, I also love the growing circle of friends there interested in art, textiles, culture, and sustainability. On good days, it's a great source of lively conversation that keeps me connected to an inspiring circle of creative minds and hearts amidst the everyday chaos.

So, in honor of all my readers and two years of writing this blog, I've made a donation to Women for Women International through their Gifts That Give Back option. I gave US$75 to help purchase a sewing machine for a woman in a war-torn country. According to the organization, "For women in Afghanistan, Congo and Kosovo, the path to economic self-sufficiency often begins with a small home tailoring business." Donations of this kind are not always completely specific, and the money may go toward other purposes, and that's okay. But I like the thought of a woman in need not only receiving this tool that will help her thrive, but that she may also enjoy, and that might open doors of creativity as well as sufficiency. I'm reading Half the Sky, as I've mentioned, and it presents a very convincing argument that saving women and girls can save the world, and its authors support Women for Women International.

Another project I'd like to remind you of, as we kick off the holiday season, is The Sewing Machine Project. They'll accept your donations of used machines and send them to people in need in Louisiana and Mississippi, where families are still struggling to get back on their feet after Hurricane Katrina. I think they're still active, and what a great service.

If you know of other textile- and art-related giving projects, let me know. I have to give a shout-out to my mother, who knit hundreds of baby hats this year for premature and ill infants along with some friends of hers; they just received an award from the city of Richardson, Texas, for the project. While we grew up in my family with a strong sense of justice, it was often tied to a have-not mentality that I work to overcome, and we didn't ever practice service that I  can recall, so it's wonderful to see her so engaged in this project and giving her time and energy and talent.

That's all for now -- I'll be back later this weekend with a Full Moon post, links, and more. I hope you all had a fantastic Thanksgiving. Blue skies and thanks to all of you, many times over, for visiting.

Gifts and Catching Up

The best part of the trip to Houston was, as expected, meeting glorious Glennis, the Shibori Girl and her friends. I splurged on two of her silk scarves:

 

Through Glennis, I also met Katrina, a very talented garment sewer and silk specialist. Both Glennis and Katrina had been on a textile trip to Japan, and had great stories of ducking out for authentic Japanese food, and befriending indigo dyers -- read more on Glennis's blog. I also met Jennifer, who sells vintage textiles and had vintage sari ribbon, but sadly I didn't get back to her booth to buy. I also met some terrific art quilters who work with Quilting Arts magazine -- Judy Coates Perez is someone I've admired; she paints beautiful fabric pieces and does stitched metal. I met Sheree from Sheree's Alchemy, a talented designer/sewer and proponent of organic fabrics. I joined SAQA.

These meetings were the lovely gifts of what was otherwise a strange event and trying travel. I also got a fantastic surprise gift in the mail from awesome Jane -- a vast supply of shisha mirrors, both round and square. I've got some stitching to do.

Back home, I spent the rest of the week back at work and buying my new(er) car, which, when it was all said and done, turned out very well. I bought the car from incredibly nice, honest people, had a totally helpful and kind loan person at the credit union, and feel like I got lucky in an economy where people are keeping their good used cars. Used-car-buying may be a road normally littered with giant potholes and unscrupulous characters, but once I found a good car for me, everything happened with integrity and grace.

Now I'm having a very yin day, recovering. Two weeks without yoga or belly dance had me in knots and feeling large (not in a good way), so I unkinked myself with a long session this morning. I am to be Princess Leia for a party next week; I normally don't engage in Halloween activities, but this is for my favorite 7-year-old, and I can't say no; so there is some guerilla costuming to do.

It feels like things will settle down soon, as shorter days arrive, and I can blog more and create more. I'm not sure these days if I'm blogging as a writer who loves textiles, as a global textile explorer, as an artist, or all of the above. I think it's all of these things, though perhaps I'd be better off focusing more.

I'm also pondering what to do with 130,000 frequent flyer miles. I can go anywhere in the world! Trouble is, I don't have a big cash supply for hotels, etc. I'm afraid if I wait too long the airlines will dismantle/devalue the whole program. So where do I want to go? Where DON'T I want to go? I've not been to Paris, Bali, Hawaii, India, Vancouver, or Japan. I love London, and there are great exhibits at the museums in New York City right now. If anyone needs a house-sitter or has a rental for the holidays, let me know.

At least for today, it feels like a big, beautiful world, full of textiles and culture, music and love, and possibilities.

I Lost the Thread

Dear readers,

I know I've been gone too long. I find it's much easier to write a blog post when I'm posting every day or every few days. When I've been absent for a while, there's a mental bottleneck. I've lost the thread.

I lost the thread, I lost the map
It's not a feeling, it's a fact
I had it once, I was on track
Why won't it stay? I want it back.
                    - shawn colvin, I Want It Back

It's partly that I keep waiting for my cup to fill up a little. Autumn got off to a gray, wet, cold start here that doesn't really bode well for the winter. As I look back over the summer,  I'm discouraged and disappointed in how things have gone. I had many possibilities and seeds in the spring, and somehow the decisions I made haven't yielded a fruitful harvest. I look down this path I somehow ended up on, and I'm not seeing a lot of potential for joy or creativity.

Yeah, I know that's abstract. I really can't say any more.

So. It is what it is, all of it. Where is the love? Here are a few textile-related things that have made me smile with interest, inspiration and delight:

• If you haven't seen the fabulous NY Times story about the fabric made from spider silk, and the amazing efforts of the two textile experts who have spent years searching for the rare golden orb spiders in Madagascar, it's a must-read.
• The Colour Lovers blog has a gorgeous post on The Colorful Art of Batik.
• The Victoria & Albert Museum has a stunning selection of prints for sale, many of them textile designs ancient or modern, wallpaper, fashion photography, costumes, quilts . . . you can order them small or large, as art prints or on less expensive paper. Below, I've posted a few of the many hundreds available.
• More V&A: Over at StyleCourt, a lovely post about uses for a small book of Indian floral designs from the V&A pattern book library with CD of images for noncommercial use. The book is available in the U.S. here.

From the V&A print shop -- cintamani! More of their lovely prints:

This last print is so gorgeous, with the loose, bright watercolor spots, that it does lift my spirits. I hope it lifts yours too! Back soon, I hope, with a more optimistic heart.

xo Lainie

All That You Have Is Your Soul

Every day I think about my poor neglected blog, and send out a silent thank-you to my readers who are still stopping by. It's been kind of a crazy month.

A couple of weeks ago, I got the loveliest e-mail ever from a woman named Maria, blogging here, who is living in Switzerland and working with Peruvian Indian textile artisans on a wonderful Slow Cloth project. Her message was extraordinarily kind, and extraordinarily well timed, reminding me that there is value to this blog and the efforts I've made here as a global textile explorer. I've been discouraged this month with my "day job" swallowing my life and possibilities, and I still hit roadblocks related to certain people who know me in real life lurking here--that came up for me big-time earlier this month. But Maria's message, her commitment to her work and her level of achievement, inspired me anew and reminded me of what matters.

A lot of what's mattered this month has been current events. The health care reform ugliness makes me heartsick. Every life decision I make is affected by whether or not I can get health care with my pre-existing condition; I am sure my health habits are as good or better than most Americans, but I'm considered a risk outside of an employer plan. And all of the hope and astonishment and joy of electing a man with intelligence and integrity is being drowned in the reality of our political system and our pathetically anti-intellectual, intolerant, violent and fear-driven culture.

Meanwhile, my brother's farm in California was at the center of the destructive Lockheed fire. There was no loss of life or structure, but the fire and the necessity of bulldozing to cut fire lines did significant damage. And there were some very tense days, not knowing if the incredibly courageous and dedicated firefighters could contain the fire. Everyone is okay, and I'm grateful for that.

Since we talk a lot in this blog about world cultures and their inextricable link to textile traditions, please take a look at the New York Times Magazine's special issue on women and girls this week. Some of this previews a new book by Nicholas Kristof and his wife Sheryl, called Half the Sky, and the accompanying Web site here. I don't always agree with Kristof's position on sweatshops but I do understand his point of view and greatly admire his commitment to giving voice to the silent female majority in the world, whose rights and freedoms are too often limited. Maybe we should start a group to make microloans to women and girls working with textiles. Anyone game?

I think all things are connected, and the article we read about women in Africa can inform every stitch we take or every piece of art we make, so I hope you don't mind these news-focused posts.

Oh, and one more thing! Maiwa has a blog now -- I was so hopeful about going to the symposium this year and it is not to be, but I am glad for all the material they're posting.

So that's about what I've got to say. I'm trying not to let the commute and the cubicle kill my spirit, to be grateful for the chance to work with interesting material and authors, and to believe that there's more for me and it will appear in time.

So don't be tempted by the shiny apple
Don't you eat of a bitter fruit
Hunger only for a taste of justice
Hunger only for a world of truth
'Cause all that you have is your soul
All that you have is your soul.
            Tracy Chapman, All That You Have Is Your Soul

Art and Agriculture

I'm going to be deleting my Organic Confidential blog very soon, and there is one post I want to archive here, about art and agriculture. Many artists working with food and agriculture themes use fiber and textile media. Here is the post, written in October, 2007.

I've sought out connections between art and the world of organic food and farming that I was deeply involved in for quite a long time. Where does art meet agriculture? As it turns out, in more and more places:

• For several years, I've been following the wonderful annual Art About Agriculture juried exhibition hosted  by the College of Agricultural Sciences at Oregon State University. Here is OSU's description of the project: "Art About Agriculture encourages artists to investigate the visual resources of the science and practice that sustains human life: agriculture. It strives to develop an understanding and appreciation of food and fiber production, especially among people not traditionally acquainted with agriculture. Art About Agriculture was established in 1983 as the first annual arts competition and tour exhibit with an agricultural theme. It recognizes professional and emerging Pacific Northwest artists, creates a growing, dynamic, permanent collection of fine art based on, stimulated by, and portraying agriculture, and presents the permanent collection and tour exhibit to rural and urban audiences." As this exhibition is limited to artists in the West, I'm exploring ideas about creating something like this in other regions. The quality of the work in the OSU exhibition is very high, and the whole project is inspiring. Some of the work is for sale, and some acquired for the University's permanent collection. View the gallery here.

• In the United Kingdom, Littoral is a nonprofit organization focused on the arts and agricultural change. Littoral has a number of ambitious initiatives, including re-imaging the farming community and countryside, audio projects, and a textiles sector exploring not just farming and fashion and the links between the two, but also "smart clothing" for farmers.  From their web site: "Littoral is interested in opening up new critical territory for contemporary art practice in the context of agricultural and rural change, and supports organisations and artists interested in working on arts projects to do with agriculture, farming and other rural issues. Critics Roger Scruton and John Berger have pointed to the crisis in agriculture as evidence of a deeper crisis of culture, involving issues of national identity, cultural diversity, public health, animal welfare and bioethics, and public access to the countryside. Artists have always sought to work at the critical edges of culture in the unfixed margins of society, as a suitable place from which to re-image society, environment and culture. Agricultural change and the crisis in farming are important new areas for cultural practice and research, and provide a focus for future cultural debate, critical art practice, and aesthetic discourse."

• The ephemeral constructions of environmental artist Andy Goldsworthy are extraordinary, with a profound spiritual quality; it turns out he grew up on a farm. In this Time magazine interview from earlier this year, Goldsworthy is asked how farming informs his work; his reply, in part: "I was always going to be an artist, since I was a kid, but the impact that farming had was tremendous. It's a very sculptural activity. Not just dry stone walls but stacking bales — big minimalist sculptures, beautiful and enormous. Plowing a field is drawing lines on the land, painting the fields — it's incredibly visual." Goldsworthy is the subject of the well-received documentary Rivers & Tides.

Nothing Fits!

Whenever I seriously think about letting go of the blog I get a comment gift like the beautiful, and beautifully written, message from Mandi on this post. She wrote:

Sustainable is great, but to me the greatest joy in slow cloth is the deep involvement and passion for each step of the process. This is something that was lacking in my own work for a long time, and something that I don't see on the myriad of blogs I read. I was starting even to feel that I could never keep up with those energizer bunnies of creative sewing endeavors!

But after reading your statement on slow cloth I have realized that is why I feel so burned out! I was burned from trying to make so much so fast....to keep going and going like everyone else! It's overwhelming and uninspiring to say the least.

But today I cooked up a batch of rice paste resist and I will spend time carefully stenciling with it, instead of quickly silkscreening the same image, and I will take joy in the process of cutting more stencils and carefully working through each step in the layers of application. And I will know that for me and maybe for a few others it's enough to spend that time and care to create a few projects this year instead of a few each day or week.

That'll keep me going for a while. Thank you, Mandi. It's also a reminder to stay focused on topic. I will write again about the Significant Objects project next week - it was part of what I deleted yesterday but it'll return.

Over at Designboom.com, take a look at the paintings of Brazilian artist Delson Uchoa. I thought there was something very textile-ish about them, and indeed, the site says, " they are structured around formal principles that are a legacy of the constructivist-concrete tradition, incorporating motifs and techniques
taken from folk decoration, lace, embroidery and weaves that result in optical effects and fields." I think these layered, collaged works probably must be seen to be fully appreciated, but at least we can get a taste.

A bad side effect of the new job is that I seem to be gaining weight at an alarming rate. The sense that "nothing fits anymore" isn't just about my clothes; life also feels that way in general. Most of my space--car, apartment, location, wardrobe, the things that become an identity --was chosen or arrived because of life circumstances that have changed. Nothing fits anymore; it all certainly doesn't fit the global textile explorer/artist/thinker who inhabits and creates this blog. So I'm doing a lot of re-evaluating, trying to figure out what I need to stay healthy and be comfortable in my own skin. Last night I dreamed that I missed a design meeting because I had gone to talk to people from an old job; then I rushed home to change and none of my clothes fit! It's always funny when dreams are as literal as that. Yes, I'd like to be "bigger" than I am, but not literally, please, universe--can you hear me now?

Maybe Tuesday's big ol' new moon/solar eclipse that has all the astrologers buzzing will help. Until then, onward.

The Real Deal

I've finally updated my picture (on the right). That other picture was 11 or 12 years old and was beginning to feel a little fraudulent. The new one is what I look like today, unretouched and mostly unapologetic, on a June afternoon in 2009, taken by Jason Reid in Loveland, Colorado.

One more note on the Surface Design Association conference - they had a fantastic group of vendors selling many beautiful treasures, including the lovely Theresa of Bohemian Element. Theresa lives the life of a true global textile explorer, among other things; she's got beautiful fabric and textile art supplies and is fascinating and fun. Visit her Web site and be inspired.

Seeking Balance

Whew. My new job (as a book editor for Interweave Press) is excellent but, you know, nothing eats up your schedule like a full-time job with a 45-minute commute, so I'm very busy adjusting this week! I have to figure out how to make time for more exercise; after that month in Washington with miles of walking every day, I'm too sedentary now.

I also still have some terrific freelance design projects, and I have to find time to make art; especially after seeing all the inspiring work and ideas at the SDA conference. One great thing that happened is that I met Deidre Adams, and how delightful is it that someone who makes such imaginative and transcendent art, and is so committed to art, turns out to also be the most down-to-earth, funny, daring, wonderful person. As mentioned in my other post-conference post, meeting Jane Dunnewold was also excellent -- it's so good when the people whose work you admire so much are also good people in every other way. And there were so many others who are doing inspired and interesting work.

Those artists who aren't on an academic/teaching path are mostly looking for ways to do more of what they love and are called to do, and also make a living. It's the perpetual question. Some people are more inclined than others to self-promote and market their work; others are longing for someone who can do that for them.

There were some younger women there, students mostly, but the numbers were in favor of older women (I guess all the younger ones go to BlogHer or more DIY-craft-focused events?) -- and it was almost all women. I realized how much resistance I have to large groups of women; I just assume I'm not going to fit in or be liked, and in some ways I don't want to fit in. And certainly when the talk goes to husbands and kids I'm the odd woman out, much as I may wish it were otherwise.

Obviously this is a conundrum, since being a part of the world of textile art and craft means, invariably, large groups that are 99.75% women. And please don't get me wrong; I'm the last of the true believers in women's rights and women's greatness. And still. Whenever there's only one gender, things get out of balance.

So what do you think? Are textile arts and crafts definitively women's work? I've read the books about how they came to be women's domain. But some men certainly have the talent and interest and inclination. In fact, a disproportionate number of the top speakers at the conference were men although there weren't more than a handful of male attendees. Irony? Coincidence? Right? Wrong?

photo by Robert in Toronto.