Red Thread Studio

Staying Connected

Looking for new posts? I don't foresee new posts on this blog right now, other than a possible wrap-up/farewell thoughts post, but the archives will remain up. For current posts and information, please visit my professional communications/writing/editing site and my evolving elainelipsonart.com for painting and textiles. I invite you to like my Facebook Slow Cloth page as well.  If you've enjoyed this blog, let me know what you've found most interesting in the comments or by email. Thank you all, enormously.

 

Building and Rebuilding

I know you probably think I've disappeared forever... not quite.

First, in honor of my 2010 blog readers as well as all the members of the Slow Cloth group on Facebook, I've made a donation to Women for Women International. It's just a small gesture, but I hope you accept it as my thanks to you for reading, for being patient when I write nothing, and for being out there in the world. Women for Women helps war survivors in some of the most ravaged countries on the planet; they help to educate women and girls, and in some cases provide them with things like sewing machines and fabric and dyestuffs to help them earn a living as they rebuild their lives.

I know I have at least some men in the Slow Cloth group, and maybe a few readers here; my choice of a women's cause isn't meant to exclude you. The education and success of women and girls is important to every one of us; they have less power in much of the world than men do, and the consequences of war are greater for many of them. There are so many textile-related, truly wonderful organizations that deserve support; this is just one that resonates for me, and I've mentioned others on the blog, so I encourage you to share what you can with organizations that are meaningful for you, or just do what you can locally to help others. It's been a tough year for a lot of humans on the planet.

Second, I'm on vacation from work until the new year, and I'm hoping to relaunch my blog during that time on a different platform. It'll be called Art Craft Culture, and I'll share a link as soon as it's ready. I know I've been threatening to do that for a while, and I've had to think a lot about whether I should blog at all. At least for now, I think I want to keep on. The new blog will still include a lot of information about textiles, but I hope to broaden the categories as well, to include more art in other media, high and low culture, and, well, whatever else I decide to write about.

It's hard to believe 2010 is almost over. I didn't even begin to accomplish what I'd hoped; I keep thinking that it's been a first-chakra sort of year; for those of who do yoga or other Eastern practices, or know the work of Carolyn Myss or other spiritual teachers, you know that means it was more about getting by and maintaining a foundation than branching out, creating, acting powerfully in the world. I'm trying to acknowledge all that's been good, let go of what's no longer useful or productive, and see if I can move the energy up into the second and third -- and fourth, the heart chakra -- in 2011.

I send you my thanks for being here, and wishes for a beautiful holiday season and new year. Let me know what you're planning for 2011!

Gifts of the Full Harvest Moon

I got so many lovely and unexpected gifts this week - including the very kind comments from everyone on my last post. I think I replied to all the comments made here and to the private e-mails, but if I missed anyone, forgive me and know that I am very grateful for your support and generosity.

I got this beautiful handmade journal and tea from one of my authors:

At my job, I might spend a year, sometimes more, working on a book in all its various stages, so I'm almost as invested as the author by the time it's published. It's truly wonderful when the author is as appreciative and classy as this one was. 

I also received a hilarious postcard and elegant needle case from also-very-classy Meg in New Zealand. Her talent is incredible and she's as nice and smart and lovely as her weavings are subtle and beautiful. 

I got a surprise box of intriguing watercolor paints from multitalented and very wonderful Deb.

A couple of weeks ago, I got this set of quotation-mark buttons from the one and only, brilliant and wonderful Anne: 

Last week, I even had the most excellent and friendly customer service from a great local company, Third Street Chai. I called to complain about a bad batch of chai and they couldn't have been nicer, and sent me a box full of delicious products.

I know none of this has to do with textiles or art or craft or any of that, but I just wanted to share the fun after the last discouraging post. The haters haven't gone away, but they've been outnumbered and FAR outclassed by truly wonderful people.

I wish the same for you on this equinox and full moon. It's a strange time we're living in, when people feel far more able to express hate than love, to destroy instead of creating whatever they want to create and respecting others' rights to do the same. The whole world seems way off balance. I know some people intent on keeping their heads in the sand, others feeling helpless and hopeless, others just confused. I don't know the best way. I try to just keep doing the right thing every day, whatever it is, hoping that whatever wisdom and integrity I have outweighs my mistakes and failures. And there are plenty of those.

I've started exploring bookmaking, finally picked up my current bead and shisha-mirror piece again, and am taking an encaustic class later this week. My Slow Cloth group on Facebook remains an incredible -- and large -- group of artists, craftspeople, entrepreneurs, interested observers, writers, and creative thinkers. I'm working on a website to replace the Facebook page eventually. I'm also in the process of moving this blog to a new location with a new name, so more on that to come. I may be attending the Textile Society conference next month; we'll see. There's a lot to do on this Harvest Moon. 

Oh, and speaking of Slow Cloth, the very lovely people at Ashford Handicrafts in New Zealand included an article from me about Slow Cloth in their annual magazine. It's beautiful. I'll make a PDF and post it here this weekend. Elizabeth Ashford also sent me another generous gift - some amazing silk and merino slivers that I shared with a friend who is a spinner:

I think I include the lyrics to this song every September at the full moon, so why not again?

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 feel 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

On the First Day of Spring

I want to paint a picture

Botticelli style

Instead of Venus on a clam

I'd paint this flower child

"You are the air my flowers breathe,"

He calls, and the ladies turn around

On the first day of Spring

I'm looking at the only joy around

--- Joni Mitchell, The Only Joy in Town

Well, we made it through. The season changes at 11:32 this morning, my time, and it feels like we've been through a major challenge. I always have a hard time with winter, and this one was long and trying. I hope spring arrives for you with whatever joy happens to be around. 

I'll be overjoyed if any kind of health care reform passes tomorrow. I'm on pins and needles. And I think people who oppose health care reform -- and indeed, oppose a public option -- are domestic terrorists. There. I said it. And ignorant: see The Tea Party & The Circus: Final Healthcare Reform Protest. You will laugh and cry for America.

edited to add: I also think it's obscene and sad that our only hope for any kind of reform will probably come at the expense of women's right to choose and right to privacy.

A few lovely textile links for you:

• I love Christine Mauersberger's blog. She seeks out interesting and beautiful art and craft of all kinds, and is a wonderful textile artist herself.
• There is an absolutely spectacular gallery of traditional and contemporary Japanese sashiko textiles here. Download the excellent backgrounder PDF also.
• Maryam at My Marrakesh has beautiful images of traditional crewel stitching in Kashmir.

And, oh yes, I have my new camera (except I bought local and, hmm, paid a lot more). Here are some random samples, mostly shot on the automatic function. The color tilts slightly warm, and I haven't yet figured out how to correct that in the shot.

Here is a photograph of the floor of a Japanese restaurant I was in last week:

And books on the shelf:

 

Fabrics on the floor:

And the peace mandala, almost complete:

 

Back at the book shop, I'm finally seeing completion of some of the books I began to work on as an editor when I started the job last June. I especially love Ann Budd's Knitting Green, available soon (Ann does her own excellent editing but I was able to offer some assistance on the essays), and Jane Dunnewold's Art Cloth, which is just going to press and will be available in a few months.

That's all for now. Enjoy the first day of spring!

Shipibo Woman Stitching

The Medicine Hunter sent this new photograph of a Peruvian woman of the Shipibo Indian tribe weaving one of the magical patterns that they're known for. I've written about them before, here and here. This photograph is so lovely -- it really captures that universal sensation of peacefully stitching, concentrating while also dreaming of who knows what. The patterns of Shipibo embroidery are like a musical score, corresponding to the songs that the shamans sing in the ayahuasca ceremonies, which are said to be extraordinarily healing.

photo by Chris Kilham; used with permission.

Peru seems to be in the air these days. I've also been following the Mayu Hand-Knit Alpaca blog; Kate is a Chicago girl who went to the same high school that I did, as it turns out, and she's been working to help improve awareness of fair trade purchasing in Chicago. This is one of Mayu's handmade alpaca scarves:

Since I haven't been to Peru, I can only share these images from those who have. It seems that everyone who goes there falls in love with the country and the people--and the textiles.

Slow Cloth - What It's All About

Hi dear readers - I haven't stopped blogging, things have just been very busy and a little strange the last couple of weeks. If you are new to this blog from the Facebook group or another blog, and wondering about Slow Cloth, here's a little history. I started writing this blog in December of 2007, partly in order to fully develop and organize my ideas about slow cloth. No one else that I was aware of had used the term before then. I've discussed it in many posts (visit the slow cloth category), but this post is the one in which I really set down the qualities that I think are essential to slow cloth. While enjoying taking your time with stitching is part of it, it's also much more to me.

For me, slow cloth is not just hand stitching, it's a relationship to textiles and craft in all forms, including machine sewing, business, fashion design, dyeing -- you name it. It is a progressive way of thinking about craft, a response to sameness, commodification, and fast, cheap production, whether in the personal craft world or the multinational clothing world.

If you're wondering who I am, I am an author, writer, editor, artist, speaker, and even occasionally a stitcher. At the moment I work full-time as a book editor for a publisher of textile art and craft books. I spent many years as a writer, advocate, author, and communications expert in the organic food industry and still work in that area at times, though my portfolio, such as it is, is somewhat broader now. My knowledge of the Slow Food movement and sustainability issues has informed my writing about slow cloth. I've also written extensively about the emergence and market for sustainable and organic textiles and apparel.

I hope you'll come back and read more about art, craft, cloth, and culture here. Many people seem to be adopting the term "slow cloth," but using it in different ways, and I can only hope it doesn't get diluted too much, as I think the concept is valuable. If you write about slow cloth as I've defined it, I appreciate you linking back and following correct attribution practices for any quotes or paraphrasing of ideas. My words and images here are fully copyrighted. If you have questions or would like to talk with me, I'm very easy to contact at the e-mail address in the sidebar. Thanks, all.

Full Cold Moon

Turn that TV off now baby

I'm so low I don't even sing

Tell me something about my country

Tell me one good thing

King and Malcolm, lamb and lion

Setting Alabama free

Thirty thousand angels flying

From Montgomery

Put that paper down now, baby

I'm so low I don't even sing

Tell me something about my country

Tell me one good thing           

                - one good thing, by anais mitchell

The full moon is beautiful in the sky, bringing a bitter cold front with it. It seems like winter has already been too long, and I'm dreaming of beaches. It's hard to believe that December is here, and the next full moon -- a Blue Moon and the Wolf Moon -- will be at year's end. I don't really know what to think about this year. It's been full of disappointments for me, yet I'm not sure the whole story has unfolded yet. It's been full of progress, too, though it feels too slow. And it's been full of hope; on some days that feels foolish, and on other days, powerful.

I drove to work today behind a van with this bumper sticker: I'll keep my freedom & money & guns, and you can keep "the Change." That's their bad punctuation, not mine. I've been behind this vehicle before; we seem to be on the same schedule. It's pretty much a guarantee, if I see it, that it's going to be a bad day. And now I've just listened to the president that this woman hates announce escalation of a murky war, and I wonder if this pigheaded moron in the van is happy now. Of course not.

It doesn't seem as if humans will ever transcend hatred, war, and violence. But fortunately, we'll also never stop creating, envisioning, loving, and happily, stitching.

A few links I've had bookmarked:

• The wonderful Tai Gallery in Santa Fe has revamped their Web site and it's full of beautiful textiles and bamboo baskets, with many of their gallery publications viewable online. There are dozens of amazing ancient and modern textiles, and the photos can be sent as e-postcards to your friends. Here's one:
  Mantle, Chimu Culture
  Peru, North Coast?
  Late Intermediate Period, 1000 - 1476
  Design: Bold blocks of pelicans and tuna fish motifs in a bright palette of red, yellow, blue, white and brown.
  Technique: Slit tapestry, warp and weft camelid fibers

And another:

Heirloom textile

Made in Gujarat, India
Collected in Sulawesi, 17th century
Technique: Resist and mordant dyed handspun cotton

• I think Jude scooped me on this one, but the new community Hand Embroidery Network has launched Needle, a new online magazine for traditional and contemporary hand-stitched embroidery. It's beautiful; go see.
• Britex Fabrics, the legendary brick-and-mortar store in Union Square in San Francisco, finally has a blog and online shopping for some of its ribbons, trims, and buttons. I lived near the intersection of Haight and Ashbury Street back in 1986 with Dave the Drummer, and worked in downtown San Francisco, not far from Britex. I used to walk there on my lunch hour. I'd rarely buy anything because the choice was so magnificently vast that I couldn't ever pick just one thing. On the weekends I'd paint silk fabrics for a designer named Connie Romweber and shop closer to home at the much funkier Mendel's on Haight Street and Satin Moon. What a luxury it was to have so many great fabric stores.

A Storyteller's Story Up at HandEye

A Storyteller's Story, my profile of Jude Hill of Spirit Cloth, is up at HandEye Magazine online, complete with a slideshow of Jude's wonderful work. Keith Recker, who is publishing, editing, and doing much of the writing for HandEye, was terrific to work with, and I hope to do more for this exciting and ambitious new publication. And if you become a Facebook fan of HandEye, Keith posts fascinating and relevant links just about every day for people interested in art, craft, culture, and environmental issues. 

I called myself an "explorer" in my author bio, because I thought I was going to be in northern Brazil for Thanksgiving -- I was invited to give a talk on sustainable and organic textiles -- and was feeling very Global Textile Explorer-ish when I wrote it. But no, I'll be here at home after all. I had a disorienting moment of "How can you be in two places at once when you're not anywhere at all," as Firesign Theater once said, and realized that the trip was simply untenable at this time. So instead I'll have a few lovely days off to be an artist and maker, and do lots of yoga and dance and reading and planning. And I ordered this embroidered linen fabric from PurlSoho to make some curtain panels and a pillow or two:

Lovely, yes? It's made in India, and I've been coveting it for months.

Waltz Across Texas

I'm on my way to Houston for International Quilt Festival (for work) and then to Dallas for a day and a half. I've been to Dallas many times before, but never Houston. There are things about Texas that I really like -- the colorful, creative, rebel Texas mythology, the open road, the music, the Friday Night Lights nostalgia, the Anne Richardses and Willie Nelsons and Lyle Lovetts -- and a lot that feels pretty alien, like the sprawling oil-and-gas cities and the red-state majority. Texas has some phenomenal textile artists, like Jane Dunnewold and Mary Ruth Smith, and a lot of creative people working in Austin and elsewhere.

I'm most excited about the chance to meet Glennis, and Malka, who is one of my authors, and some of the other artists who'll be there.

And speaking of quilters, thanks to Elsie Campbell for mentioning this blog on her lovely blog. Maybe she'll be there too . . . in fact, if any of my readers will be there, please look for me. I'll be at the Quilting Arts booth some of the time, or email me at elainelipson at gmail dot com and we'll find a way to meet.

Meanwhile, I spent some time today looking for information on the Korean technique of pojagi - piecing small pieces of fabric, often sheer, with French seams so that there are no raw edges on the back. Here's a great link, and also click on the "wearables and theater" button on artist Chunghie Lee's site. There are some beautiful examples of pojagi on Flickr, but none are licensed for noncommercial reproduction. 

Now I must go pack. Updates soon.

Inspiration for a Singing Harvest Moon

I guess it's a Harvest Moon do-over. The full moon, exact at 12:10 a.m. here in Colorado, is technically the real Harvest Moon, as the full moon closest to the equinox. It's a beautiful, cool, clear fall day here, so the moon should be spectacular. This moon is also called the Singing Moon, so here's an iMix of moon tunes in honor of that.

I had a lovely conversation with Jude this week and I thank her for posting a link to me. Jude's work is so compelling, I think, because she's purposeful as an artist. She knows what she wants to do, and she's developed the skills to do it. Although her work has a folk-art, primitive quality, it's anything but primitive in design, intention, and execution. Jude's work also feels intimate and familiar, although it's like no one else's; we recognize the materials, the textures, the universal beauty of hand stitching.

That conversation was one of several moments of blessed inspiration that got me through an otherwise weird (not in a good way) week. Another was my discovery of a new blog by Rosanne Cash, singer, songwriter, prose genius, and the celebrity I most wish I lived next door to. I did say hello to her once, when I worked for etown, but didn't get to talk to her; just as well, as I'm sure I'd have embarrassed myself in adulation.

Anyway. Rosanne's new album, The List, comes out this week, and she's added a new blog to her site, also called The List, about things that have been handed down to her and things she's handed down to her own children. It's full of, among other things, great stories that have to do with garments, or boots, or pieces of jewelry. This is another way to tell stories through textiles, through what we wear and keep. I don't know if Rosanne does any stitching herself, but she clearly has a deep respect for the makers of things. I think she would like the idea of slow cloth, of a relationship to fabric that involves joy, mastery, expression, beauty, and teaching through the generations.

People are sometimes surprised by my love of country music. I may have told this story before, but I had a good friend in college named David Hill who taught me how to appreciate REAL country music -- the kind of songs that Rosanne Cash covers on The List, and the kind she has written. He taught me about Gram Parsons and Merle Haggard and Dwight Yoakam and all of it. This was before there was an official "alt.country" genre. I am forever grateful to David, and now that I think about it, to all the exceptional musical mentors who have taught me about all kinds of music. I can't imagine life without music any more than I can imagine life without beautiful textiles or paint or color.

Hmmm, I had several other things in mind to blog about but I think this is long enough. I will go and stitch something instead -- I got stuck on my last shisha piece, but it's time to bind it, declare it done, and move on.

Oh wait! Elsewhere on the stitching front, the latest issue of Stitch magazine is on the newsstands. I wrote the article called "I [heart] Japan" about Japanese textile crafts. It could only touch on many aspects, but there's a good resource list. Cathy Bullington wrote a terrific accompanying piece on using contemporary Japanese sewing books. There are short profiles of Carol of Kimonomomo.com (Carol also writes The Ardent Thread blog) and Elizabeth Wilson of Asiatica. And of course, the magazine is full of great designs and other excellent articles.

Thanks to everyone who has left a comment recently. I will reply to them all, and I appreciate them immensely.

More soon. Stay inspired and do some celebrating under this Singing Harvest Moon. Here's one of my favorite moon tunes:

If you ever feel lonesome
And you're down in San Antone
Beg, steal, or borrow two nickels or a dime
And call me on the phone
I'll meet you at Alamo Mission
And we can say our prayers
The holy ghost and the virgin mother will heal us
As we kneel there
In the moonlight
In the midnight
In the moonlight midnight moonlight

If you ever feel sorrow
For the deeds you have done
With no hope for tomorrow
In the setting of the sun
And the ocean is howling
For dreams that might have been
That last good morning sunrise
Will be the brightest you've ever seen
In the moonlight
In the midnight
In the moonlight midnight moonlight
        Midnight Moonlight, Peter Rowan

(Every time I hear that song I wonder how long it'll be before no one remembers why you'd have to borrow a dime to make a phone call . . .)