bee creative

community and cloth

This year I decided to join The Studio for Playful Inquiry.  Honestly, with a name like that, how could I not? Two of my favorite words roll around in that title, play and curiosity.

It's going to show up here I am sure, so a little background...

There are classes on offer to support those who work with children (they hosted a class I took this summer), but other things too...including the approach of being a study group and a community to explore some big ideas. It seems like something I have deeply needed in relation to my work.

This month the conversation is about resilience, Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower and Rebecca Solnit's A Paradise Built in Hell.  I am not reading Parable again but am reading Solnit.  It's a hard read right now given the news...

Resiliency is something that I have considered important for a long time.

I went back to listen to an "On Being" conversation with Andrew Zolli.  There is so much that rings true in this conversation including:

"I think the first premise is all things fail. And in fact not only do all things fail, but failure is intrinsic, healthy, normal, and necessary to most complex systems.

Then the question is, if that’s true, how can we weather such failures? And a big part of that story is about emboldening the local. Because we’ve so tightly connected all of these systems, it’s important that we have redundancy. It’s important that we have spare capacity. It’s important that we have the right kinds of social networks, so that we can share with each other. It’s important that we have a shared wisdom, a body of knowledge that helps us be more locally self-reliant."

When I think of the best of social media, blogging, or however we reach out on the internet...I think of the ability to share knowledge and support.  The global community has so much knowledge and experience collectively. 

Resiliency is part of why I make things, on both a practical and emotional level.

It's part of my "Good Enough" quilt for sure...looking at the blocks yesterday morning I thought about how they lean into each other. 

a wishing star, threadcrumbs from Jude

I also thought about where the fabric came from and the community it represents. 

Fabric gifted from my grandmother and aunt, Jude, Grace, Hazel, Nancy, and my mother.  Fabrics from the stash that are still crisp and fabrics from worn clothing or other blankets, soft and supple. 

There is also so much emotional energy from the thoughts and support that came from so many others throughout its making beginning during Covid. Every time I look at the skinniest strips I think of Liz.

Here's another part of the conversation with Zolli:

"There’s no way we can steer around these storms; we had better build a better boat."

Most of the back of the quilt is made up of the orange fabric with boats. I knew it was perfect when I found it.

Thinking about life boats again and that we need more blankets.

Thinking it's too early for blossoms like this on this blueberry plant and that it is a good thing I have other varieties.

 

 

 

dots and holes and beasts

Today I finally cut up a quilt I had made and that Lola had torn a lot of holes in with her nesting habit. I miss her, but not how hard she was on blankets.

All the pieces will be recycled into other things, including this slightly tattered beast I made in one of Jude's classes.  

There is help; Timber thinks it's great fun to flop right where I am cutting. 

I keep telling him it's not helpful and probably dangerous.

I've also been playing with the ink made with the Douglas Fir cones.

The dot on the left is the Doug fir, the middle Doug Fir mixed with iron water and the one on the right Doug Fir with iron water dropped in the middle.

And then walnut and iron because it was so much fun to play.

Might be the eye of a beast? 

rings

I like to put my coffee cup down on pieces of paper to see what will happen.

It was interesting how this pen bled so I was a little more deliberate and made some rings.

The brown is walnut ink and the black iron/oak gall. 

It could look different in the morning.

pictures in the dark

Moon over the house.

Moon through the trees (that shade of blue above the tree line!).

Decided to try the paper bag snowflake again this year (directions found here, I used glue stick). 

The above image is with no filter. The one below has a filter applied.

I think it's always worth experimenting...

trees or at least a version of

I've wrapped the last of the branches that I am going to do this year. 

There is a door leaning against the wall behind where the tree is.  The shadows are as fun as the tree.

More playing with ink.

about light

I finally found the battery charger and am starting to light things up. 

Just playing at the moment.

Today I went adventuring and found another view of the bay to share.  This is from the north end of downtown along the waterfront.

Between rain storms, the light was incredible. 

And this is the acid ball that was part of the paper pulp mill that used to be here.  It was used in the process of transforming wood into pulp. 

It's amazing in it's own way...

listening and making

Getting ready to put the tree up. 

I want to wrap a few more of the branches with beads.  It's definitely the best way to add some color and not have to worry about the cats.

While working, I am listening to a 1968 production of The Hobbit done by the BBC.

It's a little spooky and a lot of fun. 

 

z...the end but not

My go-to "z" word is probably not one that many others would think of. 

It's zither.

I am not sure that I will ever learn how to play anything on it but fairly frequently I open the case and pluck the strings and that is a very lovely thing for me.  It's enough to bring memories of my grandfather sitting and tuning one of his zithers, of him playing for us. 

 

Z is also about zero waste. 

Very few things are, but I try. 

(This is also something I think about with regards to my grandfather.  One of the things he did regularly was use his single use yogurt containers for seed starting.) 

I've been interested in bog coats for awhile and have finally given it a try after seeing another example come up in my Instagram feed.  My first attempt is going to need some adjusting...the sleeves are way too big.

And...

On Monday I found an article on NPR discussing a new documentary on Leonardo da Vinci that I really want to see.  I loved that they describe him as not seeing boundaries between disciplines; that he explored what he was curious about. 

And...

Something to think about, from Ken Burns one of the makers of the documentary, 

"This is why documentary, to me, is so much more fruitful than making stuff up. And so I have to wait and give some distance. And so I think that what you have to do is exhale a little bit, and we cannot look away. We have to dedicate ourselves to telling complicated stories. And when you do that, then you've got the tools. I mean, there's no greater teacher than the history you don't know, and that allows you to meet a moment with a little bit more courage and a little bit more purpose and determination."

I am going to come back to this. 

and

and...it's part of the alphabet too and seems to call for a few randomly beautiful things. 

Roses blooming in November...it happens sometimes.

and

A few weeks ago when I went down the Shelfmarks rabbit hole I discovered a new poet...Eavan Boland.  The poem that caught my attention is called "Limits"

"The old monks made the alphabet wild: they dipped iron into azure and indigo."

I love the rest of the poem too.

and

"The Poetics of Textiles," a lecture given by Tim McLaughlin/Maiwa. It's all wonderful but this bit...this, this I want to keep track of:

"Why do you make when it takes time, effort and expense?   Because all acts are creative acts.  We make and we tune our making as we go along, like tuning a violin string, tightening it so much, maybe a little more... and if our judgement is off and the string should snap, we restring the instrument, we begin to dream of creating one.  Shearing hard woods, mixing varnish, designing the smooth lines that will let the music out.  We make because it is what hand have always done, because life is a creative act, and because the only meaning that truly exists is the one we make for ourselves." 

 

I wanted an x-ray for x

I love the idea of x-rays. 

The ability to see inside of something.

But I don't have one to share.

So...some things that are not an x-ray, but another way of seeing.

1. Breaking things apart.

This is a collection on things from my last beach walk.  I thought the clump of gray was a rock but it crumbled easily. 

It's a piece of clay from the bank.

It was easy to grind into a pigment.

2. Looking out the car window on Monday. 

Atmospheric rivers.

The rain was streaming off the windshield.

Looking into the weather?  

3. Layering, vellum doodles over ink doodles. 

I am taking a class from Aris Moore hosted by Carla Sonheim.  It's giving me some ideas...

Not an x-ray, but another way of seeing.  

Another way of understanding.