Red Thread Studio

Slow Planet and Selvedge

SlowPlanet.com is a newly relaunched Web site produced in London by a very nice man named Carl Honore (imagine an accent mark over the e in his name; my efforts to create that character in Typepad have failed). The site's blogs explore every accent of the Slow movement -- that's Slow not as lack of speed, but authenticity and quality of life. Along with Food, Travel, and Design, there are even Slow Medicine and Slow Urbanism sections, and more.

Carl invited me to write for the Slow Design section, and I've just published an introductory post, based on my 10 Qualities of Slow Cloth. Go have a look around, bookmark the site, and join in the conversation as it grows. 

While we're virtually in London, or at least have London on the brain, there's an interesting article here on the fifth anniversary of Selvedge magazine, another gift from England. Long-time readers know how I adore this magazine; it's a celebration of all things textile, and a treasure for the senses. My subscription has just ended and I'm trying to find the money for re-upping; it isn't inexpensive, but it's so beautiful. The current issue, No. 26, has a gold theme. I've said before that I prefer the idea of eye nourishment to eye candy, and there's plenty to be had here. 

That's all for now . . . I must work. I hope your holiday preparations this week, whatever they are, are happy and . . .appropriately Slow.

Day of the First Snow

I don't have too much to say today . . . our first real snow fell last night, so winter is really here. I'm spending the day with music and yoga and clearing out stacks of paper in my office so I have order and room to be creative.  I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving holiday in the U.S., and a good weekend elsewhere, and are sending your best thoughts to the people of Mumbai. 

At the risk of losing too much time to the Internet beast, here are some links to interesting sites for your pleasure:

• Guys, want to get Obama's look? There are plenty of opinions on Michelle Obama's authentic and lovely style; leave it to The Independent in London to break down Barack's elegant coolness/hotness in this slideshow. Of course it helps if you're tall, lean, brainy, confident to your bones, and have that whole leader-of-the-free-world aura.
• Le Studio Anthost is a textile and surface design studio in Brooklyn making very amazing one-of-a-kind fabrics. The Web site is intriguing and also a little frustrating -- it's beautiful in its design, but fabric views are limited. Still, you can see enough of what they're doing with a whole range of surface design techniques to be inspired. 
• Two blogs that I regularly visit have moved. Sharon B's In A Minute Ago is now Pintangle.com. Jane Brocket's yarnstorm has relocated to this link. Her first post on the new blog includes this link to her list of Top Ten Beautiful Blogs -- and they are beautiful. All have fiber and craft elements. And they all make me realize I seriously need some better photography skills. 

That's all I've got on this modest day. Back to cooking French green lentils and organizing. 

Color and Spirals

In France they kiss on Main Street

Amour, mama, not cheap display

        -- Joni Mitchell, In France They Kiss on Main Street

No one sees behind the door

But every day it's one step forward

Soon we'll be sleeping in Paris

And we can set those wild ones free

       -- Rosanne Cash, Sleeping in Paris

Some color and curves and dreams of Paris for Saturday morning . . .

When it comes to art quilts, I'm consistently drawn to those that have a painterly quality, and none more so than the work of Deidre Adams, who combines painting and quilting in a way that's fascinating to me. Her latest blog post has a quilt that I think is just stupendous -- see it here. The color and texture are extraordinarily appealing and interesting. 

For more color, New York Times fashion and culture writer Bill Cunningham has a short slide show with audio on women wearing colorful  -- and some outlandish and very creative -- clothes on the streets of Paris.  It's very fun and will make you want to be a French woman (even more) or at least to be strolling on the sidewalks of Paris.

Whenever I think about color, I have to go and visit the Colour Lovers blog,  and I'm rarely disappointed. Here's a post on the architecture of Hundertwasser, an artist I've written about before, whose work is inspired and idiosyncratic and strangely wonderful. From the post: "He was fascinated with spirals, and called straight lines 'the devil's tools." 

No devil's tools today -- make it all about the curves, even if you can't see around the bends.

Post #100

This is my 100th post on this blog, in exactly 10 months. Not too bad. 

Some of the things I've learned in these 10 months:

• I love inspiring my readers, and I especially like it when they tell me I've put something into words that rings true for them. That's the connection that every writer aims for, especially with a beloved topic. I'm honored when you appreciate my words, and it never gets old. Thank you.
• My comfort level with the blogging process goes up and down. As a true INFJ (described here and here), I do better when I imagine that I'm writing to a specific person or group, but then I get nutty when I realize that anyone can read it and add their own projections between the lines . . . and gossip about their interpretation of my life. And some do. 
• Yet I'm always surprised that the most personal posts get a very positive response, mostly from others who share similar struggles, so it seems to be a balance worth striving for. 
• I think at its core this is a place for me to be a connector -- of ideas, people, art, craft, books, music, beauty, possibilities, resources and meaning. That's still what it's all about, the magical imaginary red thread that connects us across time and space with all that we're meant to be, do, know and love.
• I always appreciate comments and e-mails. I'm trying to do better to answer. 
• I think the current trendy-crafty DIY movement has become more of a disappointment to me than I realized before I started writing my opinions out on this blog. It underestimates and sometimes disrespects people who want to make beautiful things with authenticity and passion. By turning it into projects geared toward a 6-year-old's skills and making it all about selling more stuff, and using all this language of out-of-control addiction that only seems to denigrate women (drooling fabricoholics!), too much of it ends up being soulless, despite all the subversive super-hip posturing. I've tried to present ideas and an approach that are an alternative to that mind-set, which is rampant on the Web and in the bookstores and craft stores. I'm glad to learn that there are many other people who want that too.
• That doesn't mean that there isn't a place for beginners and students. Everything is practice, as the yogis say. Everybody starts somewhere and everybody has the right to experiment and try new techniques and ideas and to have fun, or maybe joy and pleasure are better words. Passing knowledge forward is part of the Slow Cloth vision. And I like to think that somehow everyone who ever put paint to canvas, or berry juice to rock wall, needle to fabric or shuttle to loom, pen to paper or bow to violin, in some attempt to create grace, beauty and liberty in the world -- somehow their spirit is with us, with a vast library of knowledge and wisdom for us to retrieve and build on. It's magic.

So what about the whole Slow Cloth idea, the possibilities of a magazine, an organization, or a bigger research project? That's all out there still. My vision and possibilities are pretty unlimited, but resources aren't, so maybe it's a matter of finding partners or the right job (still looking). Or maybe it'll evolve in the next 100 posts. Thanks for reading, and let me know -- how am I doing? What would you like to see more of?