Playing Catch-up

Good grief, it's been a month since last I wrote. I've been busy indeed, almost exclusively with finishing off some under-deadline work, and managed to avoid any holiday preparation and activity. This bit is being written at home, staying out of the blare of the teevee feetsball game, and I'd planned to load in some recent photos I took of work in progress on the loom, and several completed pieces. Managed to get the pictures into the computer, and also managed to obliterate all of them except one. That's Kimo. He's a beauty, and he and his sister Tita often keep me company at work. Tomorrow I'll take more photos of what's in process right now, and try not to make the same mistake again. I'll also write more about what I've been working on lately, and some ideas I'm developing for the coming year.

Staying Inside

It's a chilly, raw, wet typically November day here in the Pacific Northwest. The meteorological hotshots tell me that the last two weeks of this month have the wettest, nastiest weather of the year. Today is proof positive. Last week was snow and very cold -- uncommonly early but not unprecedented. Just enough white stuff to be beautiful for a day or so and to either keep people tucked in at home or out sliding around on the unplowed though eventually sanded roads. Some folks were without electricity right into Thanksgiving Day, so many celebratory dinners were postponed till the weekend. I love that weather, and am happiest being out in it tromping around. Now if only I had a pair of boots . . . .

The weekend's Anne X 2 show and sale went off hitch-free. Decent traffic on Friday, better on Saturday. We had good visits with a number of friends and supporters, but dang few sales. In the ten years we've been doing this event, this was the poorest for income for both of us, a big disappointment. People love the work, are gratifyingly complimentary and admiring, but the wallets and checkbooks remained pocketed. This is hard on two women who work diligently to earn a living, and there's no graceful way to smack folks with the realities of inadequate income. We're both moderately philosophical about it ("well, there's always next year") but of course that doesn't pay the bills or buy the groceries.

Today I spent a couple of hours at the Big Loom weaving away on the third (and last) Evening in the Garden shawl; it went along quite well, now that I've adjusted a couple things on the loom as well as the way I push down the left treadle. It's the one that signals the computer to pass along the instructions for the next group of lifted shafts, allowing the shuttle to go through with the weft thread. If the treadle isn't pushed down firmly enough, the signal seems to get garbled and lo and behold I have weaving errors!! Aaaaarrrgghhhhhh.

What gets clearer to me is that so much of operating these looms is knowing how they work, and developing techniques in how I move and weave to enable the loom to do what it's supposed to. It's a complex tool, the right tool for me to be using in creating the beautiful cloth I envision, but it does have to be operated properly. I'm still learning that part.

Snow Days

The average first frost date for this area is November 15. We got past that with no freeze, and then got slammed. Two nights ago, my bird basins froze solid. Yesterday the temperature stayed at or below 32 degrees all day, and it snowed off and on, accumulating by late evening to about two inches. The low last night was about 19 degrees, and the temperature today won't go above 24 even with bright sunlight. I was up briefly in the night to see clear skies, a light wind out of the North, and bright moonlight. Into my sleepy mind popped the line -- "The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow," and I fell back asleep mulling that over. Tonight is predicted to go down to 16 degrees, and tomorrow perhaps to freezing level.

I love cold and snow, love how the world changes, love the feel of the frigid air and the exhilaration of being alive and active and IN this world. I feel adventurous when I go outside and tromp around with clunky footgear and fluffy clothing, and am unfortunately inclined to look a teensy bit scornfully at those who shudder and squeal at the very thought of cold and snow. It's a character flaw, I know, but I'm unable to help myself.

My studio has lots of windows facing west, so before long the winter sun will be pouring in and helping to warm the space. I love working here in comfort while looking out at the snow, watching the birds busily scooping up the birdseed I put out earlier (extra today because of the cold) under a nearby shrubby willow. The California Quail came in en masse, several dozen of them, ate voraciously, and then hunkered down in the sun tucked into the base of the great blackberry jungle -- protected from the wind -- busily grooming and settling all those exquisitely perfect feathers.

My Anne X 2 show is Friday and Saturday, and with the weather conditions may be sparsely attended. In fact, my Ford mini-van will have trouble getting up the long curvy hill to Annie B's place, so I'll need to get a ride from a friend with a four-wheel drive vehicle. Today's work plan is to make new hang-tags for most of the pieces I'll be showing, and to detail the silk shawl I cut from the loom yesterday and got washed and mostly dry. I'd best get at it, as I plan to leave here by 3:00 to get home before the road surfaces get really slick.

The photo above is of two recent scarves in the "Tapestry" series.

Odds & Ends

Shortly before leaving home this morning to come to my studio, I spotted outside one of my favorite birds -- an Evening Grosbeak -- which I've seen none of for several years. On this windy raw November morning, as I stood transfixed and delighted, the gathering grew till there were at least ten, males and females both in winter plumage, working over the Japanese Maples just off the back deck, plundering the clinging samaras with apparent gusto. Utterly beautiful birds, with their dramatic black, brown, gold and white coloring and massive beaks. They were certainly on their way South from nesting grounds farther North, scarfing down gourmet seeds and washing it all down with water from the hand-carved stone basin under the (now leafless) red maple. Since this species of Grosbeak doesn't nest here, this was a rare thrill. The glow remains with me now in the afternoon, on an especially dreary day.



Just finished weaving the second of three silk shawls on the current warp on BL before taking a break for lunch. Need to do the beaded hemstitching first thing tomorrow when (I hope) the natural light in here will be stronger, and then can move on to the last one. This is the "Evening in the Garden" series, on a hand-dyed silk warp, each with a different weft and a markedly different pattern. Simple 16-shaft straight twill threading, with complicated tie-ups and treadling sequences in the design, resulting in sinuous curves in the cloth. I'm pleased with how they're looking; one is off the loom (cut it off last week so as to have it ready for our Whidbey Weavers Guild annual sale) and is exceptionally elegant.



Next warp onto the BL will be for fabric for a special-order vest plus two shawls, in cobalt blues, indigo, black and grey. Warp yarns specially dyed by The Drop Spindle, and quite glorious indeed. I'll add a couple of stock yarns to pull in additional color and texture, thread a 12-shaft straight twill, and weave the fabric in a lovely swinging undulating twill I've designed.



My sprained left ankle and foot -- result of a nasty fall ten days ago -- are finally starting to ease up on the pain quotient, and the swelling is significantly reduced. Sure has slowed down my weaving output, as treadling tends to cause increased pain and swelling if I do too much without elevating and icing the pitiful appendage. I'll be seeing my beloved acupuncturist this afternoon, and anticipate an uptick in healing speed as a result. That'll be a relief.

Back on Board & 2010 Newsletter

It's sure been a looooooong time since I wrote anything here, though it's not for lack of thinking about doing it. And as we know, thinking about something and by golly doing it are hardly the same thing with hardly the same results. It's unclear to me why I have such a hard time just sitting down at my studio computer and banging out a bit about what I'm working on, or slapping in a few pictures (I can do that now!), or maundering about the latest scritchy behavior of one of the looms. Partly it's because I get tangled up in the knotty idiocy of wondering if what I have to say Means Anything; partly I feel like I'm "supposed" to write something serious or insightful about what I'm doing. Mainly, I manage not to get around to it, because it seems like it's not Real Work, like sitting at the loom and weaving, or designing a new series of patterns, or putting the next warp on the loom. Still, it's an element of my life as a professional weaver I want incorporated into my workday, so I'll persist in aiming at consistency.

For now, my 2010 newsletter (of sorts), as the introduction to the Tenth Anne-ual Anne X 2 Show and Sale, taking place on November 25 and 26 here on Whidbey Island ~

After slogging in 2009 through assembling a new (reconditioned) production loom and beginning to weave on it, I thought I was done with loom purchases and learning curves. That confident assumption withered away when late in the year I realized that the 24-inch-wide computer-assisted loom I'd been using for 18 months wasn't really designed for the kind of production I normally do -- warps ten or more yards long, with a series of related but never identical pieces from each warp. The solution to this dilemma was (rubbing hands together gleefully) to buy another loom, this time a 30-inch weaving width AVL Production Dobby Loom. It was another reconditioned loom, a smaller sister to my 48-inch one, also with 16 shafts, allowing for vast possibilities in patterning. Late last winter, another eight large heavy boxes arrived at my studio -- the new loom, ready to assemble.

Instead of trying to slog through the process alone, I enlisted the help of my friend Janis Saunders and her husband Dave; we had the loom entirely put together and tested for anomalies in a day and a half. That was fun, so a few weeks later I went up to Coupeville and helped them put together her new (used) 30-inch production loom, a sister to mine with a serial number one digit higher.

The 24-inch loom sits in a corner of my studio waiting for someone to purchase it. It was the ideal loom for me to make the giant step from mechanical looms to computer-assisted design and weaving -- anything larger would have scared me into squeaking immobility. Small enough not to be intimidating, it was complex enough to stretch my knowledge and skill to the point where bringing in the production looms was the logical next step.

So I've spent the year learning, working, designing and weaving; the new work is increasingly complex as I move further toward the images I have in mind for the work I wish to produce. In the Spring, I took a three-day workshop with Bonnie Inouye (one of my idols) to learn a lot more about designing complicated advancing twill patterns. In the process, I became more at ease with the design software I use, and created a sizable collection of beautiful patterns which I expect to weave over the next year or two.

Earlier this year, I applied for and received a study grant from the Whidbey Weavers Guild. I'll use it to travel to Chico, California -- the home of AVL Looms -- this Winter or Spring to take a three-day workshop on all aspects of using, troubleshooting, and maintaining the production dobby looms. It's clear by now that my lack of deep knowledge about the equipment is hampering my progress and my production speed. And I feel certain that knowing a lot more about how my tools work will quite simply make me a better (and probably happier) weaver. It's going to be a thrill to be at the factory and to meet the people I talk with but have yet to meet.

Ten days ago, I took a number of new pieces to Michael Stadler, photographer extraordinaire, and we had an enjoyable hour and a half draping and shooting. I don't yet have the final images, but when I do, some will appear here, and before long I'll get my website re-done and they'll be found there as well.

The final element of my workplan for the next period of time is beginning to develop a line of handwoven fabrics for clothing and interiors. These will be woven on the Big Loom, which will, by (I think) Spring, be operated by a weaving assistant. I have a marketing plan in mind, and will be willing to take special orders as well as sell finished yardage to interested parties. The Small Loom will for the most part be dedicated to weaving scarves and shawls, with an occasional run of kitchen towels with my signature use of color and pattern.

It's going to be a challenging and interesting year.

PROGRESS, ALBEIT SLOW

Clearly, my plan to write twice a week is being honored more in the breach than the observance. Still, this makes twice this month, so perhaps that's progress.

However, the forward movement I'm more enthusiastic about today is that I've finally begun threading heddles on Sally, taking a break from awkward posture to hunker over this computer. (I'll need a massage after all this!) It's taken a while to get the suggestions and information I needed to proceed with warping this loom, and Janis Saunders has been cheerfully helpful and encouraging. So earlier this week, I finished sleying the reed, then (after a refresher phone call with Janis) I got the harnesses raised and stabilized so I can thread a sixteen-shaft straight twill, on which I will ring a number of changes, one for each of the five scarves to be woven. I expect to get about half done with the threading today, and should be able to finish on Monday. The rest of the warping is pretty easy sailing, and will probably be finished by the middle of next week, which means that I'll finally begin weaving off this gorgeous series. I've got all the patterns designed, and some of the weft yarns chosen. I'm excited.

I'll write again when the threading is completed.

More progress

The OPEN sign is up, the e-mail was sent out last evening (after considerable struggle to Get It Just Right), a few people have stopped in today.  In the end, I decided to have Open Studio both Wednesdays and Saturdays at least through the end of September.   The studio is neat and clean for the time being –- it took considerable discipline to keep nose to grindstone to accomplish it, however --  and I love it like this.  Orderliness may not be virtue, but I feel virtuous, and there’s no question that I function better when the accumulated clutter is removed.

The first section of hanging racks was installed two days ago, and there are a number of scarves and shawls hanging up now, looking dang good.  Marcia will be here tomorrow to put up the second section, which will be configured differently from the first.  This will give me the opportunity to rearrange both the racks and what’s on them when and as I wish, which makes me happy.  There are also pegs included in the design, so scarves can be draped over them or garments on hangers can be hung on them.  Lots of possibilities for display!

And it’s now time to quit fiddling around and get back to serious and steady production so that I have even more good work to put on these attractive racks.  Beulah (Big Loom) has a dusty teal rayon warp on her, with enough to weave off five scarves six feet long each.  Sally (Small Loom) is getting dressed with an earthy hand-dyed rayon/cotton warp I’m calling African Savannah, which will also produce five scarves.  I’m in the process of designing and planning a run of dish towels (which, in nearly thirty years of weaving, I’ve never done before), striped in about five colors of 8/2 cotton.  I want to have on hand some small, relatively inexpensive items which will still have my characteristic style of color and patterning.

It’s quiet here now, and I’m so enjoying it.  The first real Summer day here in the Maritime Northwest is bright and breezy outside my windows.  I’m glad to be alive and working at what I love.