Weaverly

Into the Woulds

Yes, into the woulds. I would warp my dobby loom if it weren't covered in painters' drop cloths. I would warp a rigid heddle loom if it weren't buried beneath a pile of cartons. I would finish sewing that kimono I started two years ago if I could remember which plastic bin I stashed it in. Of course I would first have to make my way to the sewing machine, and that's another story.

Meanwhile, I can still get to the computer and dream. And draft new drafts to weave some day. 

That's network drafting on 8 shafts, y'all. The weave structure is broken twill. No floats longer than 3.

Movers and Shakers

Saturday's studio sale went very well; thank you for asking. Lots of nice people came and bought things, and many of my tools, yarns, and woven items found excellent new homes. I couldn't have done it alone. Here's a shoutout to my strategic planners: Pat on my right and Patti on my left. You are the best!

As if that weren't enough excitement, here's what greeted me out front Monday morning:

Yes, road closed! After many years, the county has decided that today's the day to start repairing the damaged sewer next door. If they had started two days ago, the studio sale would have been (ahem!) a washout.

This project is expected to last about two weeks. 

Ordinary Life, Meanwhile

The zipper on my canvas handbag finally gave out, after 5 years. As my MIL would have said, "it didn't owe me anything". I ordered a new bag, exactly like the old one. In preparation for the change, I dumped out the contents of the old bag on the kitchen table; I emptied every single pocket, and there were many. I threw away about half of this stuff, then loaded the new bag. It's still very heavy. I just don't understand it.

Meanwhile, on the mantel, this person turned up. I hadn't even remembered she was there, but I do remember stitching her. Her cute capri pants were made from an orphaned sock, of which there are many around here. Downstairs she goes, to join her sisters at tomorrow's studio sale.

What the Inside of My Head Looks Like at the Moment

Click to enlarge (if you dare). I'm getting ready for a studio sale, which will be held on Saturday, April 27, from 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. If you're within driving distance of Upstate SC, please stop by! Lots of fantastic bargains. Yarn, hundreds of knitting & weaving books, small looms, sewing machines, sewing supplies, patterns, finished weaving & yardage, and did I say books? If you'd like location details, please email me (click on link in sidebar).

 

Complex Weavers Southeast Gathering

The CW Southeast Gathering was held April 12-14, 2019, at the Yadkin Valley Fiber Center in Elkin, North Carolina. Featured presenter was Jette Vandermeiden from Ontario. 

Jette gave lectures on drawloom drafting and blended drafts; presented a fascinating social, political, and economic  history of the napkin ("The Noble Napkin"); and shared her personal guidelines in entering and jurying weaving shows. Her presentations were highly informative & interesting, and her sense of humor kept us chuckling throughout. What a wonderful teacher! Highly recommended.

The group of attendees was small in number but enormous in weaving power and enthusiasm. One of the most helpful parts of the gathering was the Show & Tell session, where the participants unpacked works in progress or past works, and invited comments & critique. 

Many thanks are due to Leslie Fesperman and Leslie Killeen for their job in organizing the event.

Here are a few shapshots from the Gathering, in no particular order.

If you're a member of Complex Weavers in another part of the country (or the world), why not organize your own Gathering? It's a great way to enjoy the social and educational benefits of CW membership close to home, even if you're unable to attend an  international CW Conference. And if you're not yet a member, join! 

Thread History

In The Big Cleanup, I've now gotten to the sewing part of the studio. There are three large bins of sewing thread, and some decisions must be made. I'm going to put most of the thread in one bin and offer the whole thing for sale as is. If I were to sew eight hours a day, it would take me a hundred years to use up all this thread. What to keep? The newer threads, those on the tall narrow spools, are probably in the best condition (I'm told thread deteriorates with age). So tall narrow spools go in the keeper box.

The majority of spools are the fatter ones, and these fall into two major categories: plastic spools and wooden spools. Remember wooden spools? They used them way back when telephones had cords and milk came in bottles.

Now here's an interesting discovery. Half a dozen of the wooden spools are wound with short sections of various threads in different colors. Can this be? It appears that I've kept not only my mother's thread stash but my grandmother's as well! Granny was very frugal and never threw a usable piece of thread away. If she unpicked a hem, or pulled out a basting thread, she wound it onto a spool like the one pictured above. A wooden spool, of course. 

With each new discovery, I send my love, I say goodbye, and then move on. 

 

Found Cat

Yesterday while engaged in studio cleanup (again), my loyal helpers and I found some old samples of pick-up brocade, which were so soiled and ratty looking that I almost threw them in the trash; but said loyal helpers convinced me otherwise. I put them through the wash (the samples, not the helpers) with some cleaning rags, and they came to brilliant life again. Here's an example.

I'm toying with the idea of teaching a class in brocade for the rigid heddle loom next winter, and I am SO glad I saved these.

 

Ugh.

Downsizing is hell. Especially if you've been in the same place for 48 years. And have accumulated your parents' stuff as well. 

But every once in a while a gem pops up, and that makes it all worthwhile.

Warm Colors

Today was a day for the warm side of the color wheel. First, an early morning appointment and a jacquard sighting:

Then on the way home a quick trip to the grocery store:

And this evening, just as the sun was setting, the redbud tree in the back yard blazed into life:

 

Not For the Faint-Hearted

Downsizing, that is. 

There are decisions big and small. This pile of stuff is ready for the shredder. The first of many. Why I kept it all these years is a mystery. 

Then there are the little decisions. These seem to be the hardest ones of all.

After a while I begin to feel like this: