Live from Harwich

Dan and I are in Harwich, MA on Cape Code for the week visiting with our friends Randy and Brian for a couple of days, then house sitting for them while they're at the ACC show in San Francisco. It's always a treat to be here. It's peaceful. I've yet to encounter any place that's quite like Cape Cod. Even though it's crowded this time of year, there's something clean, clear, and refreshing about the air. The guys have also made such a wonderful home for themselves. It's more like visiting a private garden and getting to stay the night in the quirky, beautiful craft museum/workshop that happens to be on the grounds. I guess that's what happens to avid creators and collectors: their homes become venues for presenting the collection; places to live with the art.

By coincidence Sunday was the day of one of their rare studio sales. Here's front entrance to the barn early in the morning as the frenzy of setup is just winding down. I assume that it was a frenzy. I slept through it.

Look at these amazing scarves. Of course the photo doesn't come anywhere near doing them justice. Spectacular weaving, color, composition, and texture aside, what blows me away about this particular image is presentation (I hate to say merchandising). This is spectacular wearable art hung from hooks next to the rough-hewn interior surface of the barn's interior walls. What you don't see in this picture is the rest of the room and the canopied back patio filled with scarves, dresses, vests, jackets, and more, all presented and lit in a way that creates a sense of unpretentious drama and wonder. At least for me it did.

So, while all this was going on, Dan and I made ourselves scarce so as not to be under foot while serious money-making business was being done. We went to church at Christ Church Episcopal in Harwich Port, which was small, lovely, and very welcoming. Because we were visiting they gave us a little loaf of cranberry bread. How cute is that?

Then we had a little nosh on our way to the big flea market at Wellfleet Drive-In. There were some really scary people there buying tube socks and XXXL irregular T shirts, but there was also a whole area for vintage/old/antique/junk stuff, which was pretty cool. We bought an old white painted cabinet with screened doors--most appropriate for a kitchen, but we're thinking it might get incorporated into the master bedroom or guest room redecorations planned for the coming year.

I also bought what I went there hoping to find: 2 really cool trivets to use as batik tools, and what I believe is a genuine wooden tjap (also for applying batik wax to fabric), although the vendor said she thought it was for block printing wallpaper. Either way I'm delighted. The tjap (shown at left below) is about 5" x 6". One of the trivets is shown on the right

We had lunch at Clem & Ursie's in P'town (fish place out on Shankpainter Road). Dan has had his lobster roll fix, although there will probably be a need for another later this week. This place is expensive for what you get, but the food is undeniably delicious. After lunch we had a little stroll down part of Commercial Street before heading back to Harwich. I love P'town and miss it, but I think I might really be missing what it used to be like.

P'town was the place where two guys or two women could hold hands walking down the street and be greeted by smiles, even an occasional lusty grin, but never a look of scorn. It used to be a sort of gay sacred ground. Now, there's a tourist trolly that runs families around for 40-minute tours, and auto traffic is restricted on Commercial for part of the day. I can only assume that's to address the problem of double-wide strollers that don't fit on the sidewalk. The place hasn't lost it's gay people, but it seems to have lost some of its edge. It's even like this at night. I know it makes me sound old, but I remember when the families fled at sundown because they were afraid their kids would see a man in a dress, some guy with his bare ass hanging out of leather chaps, or two women kissing. Assimilation may not be all it's cracked up to be.

Picking away

I'd love to say that I haven't been posting because I've been too busy dying one fabulous yard of cloth after another--no such luck. Work's been crazy, then there was the new Harry Potter book that demanded to be read immediately (and it was worth it!). I do have a couple of things in process.

Here's that same old batik piece. I got frustrated with it because it was just too high contrast with those damned white circles. I grabbed a dirty screen (and I'm talkin' drips and smears of dye that I forgot to wash out) and deconstructed it with a not-too-strong mix of Pro Chem Chino and thickener. It's way better and could now be either a background for something more or at least something to cut up. I'm kicking around some ideas.

This next one was me just wanting to play with dye and beak-in a new screen. I grabbed whatever dye I happened to have mixed up, and once again a dirty screen. I think I deconstructed the blue then added the light brown (leftover Chino) the next day. Again, I'm not sure where this one's going. For now I'm having fun looking at it. It's making me think of Caribbean beaches.

So, this weekend I'm flying to Providence, RI to meet Dan, who's currently in CT on business, then we're driving out to stay with friends on the Cape. They're both artists so it makes for great conversations. I'm going back and forth with myself about whether to take recent work to show then. On one hand they're both role models (working, well regarded craftspeople whose work I respect and admire); on the other they're intimidating, at least in this regard.

I love the Cape. I'm taking a sketch book, a novel, a camera, a couple changes of cloths, and not much else.

The end of a busy weekend

What an amazing weekend it's been in DC. The weather's been unseasonably pleasant: comfortably warm, dry, and low humidity. Yes, the lawns are all brown from so little rain, but the pleasure of being outside in mid-July without feeling like the shower you took this morning was a waste of time, ah such a treat. It's about 9:45 on Sunday night. I'm sitting at the dining room table near the open window and there's a slight cool breeze that carries with it the promise of great sleeping.

And speaking of great sleep. I finally finished the quilt that I started last September to use up some nervous energy while Dan and I were preparing for our commitment ceremony. It doesn't normally take me a year to complete a quilt, but this one got a little out of hand and there were a few distractions--like a wedding.

I designed it thinking about the traditional wedding ring design. The central motif is the closest thing to that basic concept. The things around it are rings that don't conform to the traditional pattern. The other "rings" in the quilt all vary in size and have offset centers. They were assembled as raw-edge applique on white squares, which were then overdyed brown and lightly discharged to given them some age, some weather. The other squares are an assortment of shibori patterns, dyed and overdyed. Some of these blocks were quartered, mixed up with each other, then reassembled and overdyed. All of this was intended to create a sense of the offbeat, the free spirit, and the willingness to embrace what is different, vibrant, and colorful.

It's pretty densely quilted. The blocks with the circles are stippled and the other blocks are filled with a meandering sort of spiral. I did all of the free-motion quilting on a Bernina Aurora 440 with a stitch regulator. I still find it challenging the quilt large pieces like this, but I have to say that once I got used to the regulator it really did make a difference. Now if I could just manage to relax a little more when I quilt. I swear I tense up so much it feels like I've just about raised my shoulders over my head.

Well, that's enough for now. It's Dan's turn with the new Harry Potter. We're taking turns reading chapters. It's pretty good so far. Since I can't read it's probably a good time to go to bed.

Christmas came early

OK, I knon that title's semi-blasphemous, but it's a cultural reference that captures the last few days fairly well. That sewing machine I was selling on eBay...it sold for twice as much as I was hoping to get for it! If I can get a decent price for my embroidery machine it should just about cover the cost of my new Aurora 440. (Let's not talk about the embroidery module that I recently added to it, or for that matter, the software that I'm about to buy).

If that wasn't enough, I came home on Wednesday to find the front step covered in packages from Dick Blick and Pro Chem. I won't be so happy when the Visa bill comes, but for now it's fun. A lot of the purchases were for things that I tried and loved in Kerr's workshop, like the Caran d'Ache water-based crayons that you can use to hand color a screen and release with fabric paint medium (ProFab). Very cool.

I'm still contemplating the unfinished batik that I posted earlier this week. I agree with Rayna's comment that it's nice yardage, but not a finished composition unto itself. I also think that cutting it and starting to combine it with other cloth might be the next step. However, contemplating that next step has made me realize how much I hate cutting large pieces of hand dyed fabric. I have no problem slicing and dicing commercial fabric. The exception to that is of course really expensive or beautiful stuff that needs to be fondled, loved, and admired for a while before taking out the rotary cutter.

Last night I sat in the back yard with a Scotch staring at the cloth hanging on the clothes line trying to listen to what it's saying. I know just how "new age" that sounds, but I do think that if I can step back far enough from something I've made, I can see/hear something. Of course, what I hear might not be anything profound; it could be static, but even in that there's an element of revelation. So far this piece is saying something about circles, cycles, spirals, little cycles within larger ones, perhaps independent cycles that are isolated from each other (that's kind of sad). These circles/spheres/planets(?) need to be connected, unified, related to one another and to a larger cycle.

...Or I could just cut the whole thing up. I need to let this stew a little more.

As I reread what I just wrote I'm reminded just how much the language and practice of surface design overlap with spiritual direction, contemplative prayer, meditation, and psychotherapy. Isn't it great when things start to connect?

Is this finished?

Following up on July 16 post about about the batik piece that I began at PV. Here it is with some black detail added with thickened dye in a dental syringe (fiber artists use some weird tools).

Better? Definately--especially up close.

But is it done? My intention is to quilt this as a whole piece. Right now I think it has a problem with scale and focus. It's an interesting overall pattern, but when I look at it my eye has no place to land; nothing to contemplate. I'm thinking that my next step might be to take the pattern of the batiked circle, enlarge it, perhaps distort it a bid, and render it on the surface in a dark color. For example, I might paint the pattern into an empty screen with thickened dye then release it several times with clear alginate and let the pattern deconstruct. I invite your thoughts if you care to offer them.

Changing tastes

The sun has set. I've washed out a yard of cotton that I batiked last night. (After an hour and a half with the tjanting I have confirmed that there is not an ounce of Indonesian blood in my veins. It was fun enough, but I don't know that I could do yard after yard). I had a little dinner "devant le TV". I even made a quick run to Joanne Fabric for embroidery supplies. It really makes me grateful for Internet shopping--you the product you're looking for and none of the squalor).

Now I'm sitting on the back porch and occasionally glancing over at a chair across the room that's slipcovered in a comfortable cotton in a muted green, tan, and brown leaf and flower pattern. The slipcover is an artifact from my "floral period," when I thought that chintz is what they wore in the Garden of Eden and that there was no such thing as too much floral fabric or even too much variety of it in any given room. Mercifully for my eyes and those of my family and friends I grew out of that phase. This vestigial chair is OK, and it sort of fits in the with the relaxed, shabby chic thing going on in this room. (I should digress here and say that this is an enclosed porch with sliding glass windows and air conditioning. I am NOT discussing a piece of fully-upholstered furniture on an outdoor porch!)

Where am I going with this? Tastes change. Despite the fact that I can't seem to put anythings away--especially books and fabric--I'm really into clean lines and simpler patterns right now. I don't know what this is about? Is is just getting older or am I an undiagnosed fashion victim? The clean, simple, spa thing seems very in. I swear I was there first! Clutter, too much visual noise, and poor lighting all drive me absolutely crazy right now. I think it might also be the stress and pace of the rest of my life that's making me crave retreat and tranquility at home.

The strange thing is that this tranquility and simplicity does not always seem to be present in the art I'm making. I don't think that I have a particularly jarring color palette or a taste for chaos or in-your-face design; just the opposite. And, maybe that's OK. From my perspective I'd rather look at a beautiful painting, textile, or piece of pottery in a room than a loud chair that's screaming, "Pay no attention to the art! Look at me!"

La vie continue

La vie continue - life goes on.
Despite the fact that I went to bed feeling sorry for myself and sad, I did in fact wake up this morning and life went on. Dan's in California on business (crash test at some lab out in the middle of the desert). We talked on the phone a couple of times. Work was hectic, but I came home and had time to water the garden, eat a quick dinner, and...drum roll please...take my new print table for its maiden voyage. I started working some black line detail back into a batik piece that I brought back from PV. I'm feeling too lazy to load pictures right now. I'll batch it tomorrow, and it if washes out well we can have before and after shots tomorrow.

Oh, wait. I do have a before shot. Here it is hanging on the clothes line in the back yard.

The circles & swirls ($5 trivet from Target, thank you very much) are a little bit high contract in this photo. I don't think they read as strong in person. Up close, it actually looks like it needs a little more punch and a bit more spontaneity. Whenever I feel that way it's usually a hint that it needs some black. From Kerr I learned about the magic dental syringe. Trying to draw/write with the curved tip of a good-sized syringe held in a way that you would never hold a pencil or brush is somehow liberating to me. Once you start squeezing you've got to move or you'll just make a big blob of thickened dye. The need to move, to think quickly--better still, to not think so much, but rather to act--is good for my brain. We'll see what the result looks like tomorrow.

In other news, I'm selling one of my sewing machines on eBay: my Bernina 153QE. After 3 1/2 days of people looking at it I'm finally getting bids. I'm happy to say that at this point I've probably gotten enough to consider the sale a tentative success. Fingers crossed it will end smoothly.

Letting go

Ouch. What a day.

Today was Karla's last day. She leaves Wednesday for her new home and new church in Hickory, NC, but today was the final, official, and absolute leave-taking at St. Andrew's. It was harder than I thought it would be. I've been surprised like this before--tripped up by something I thought would be easy only to find that it was any thing but. I thought that I could be very mature about the whole thing. Surely focusing on the positive aspects of this change would make it all so much easier, right?. I saw her Tuesday at Vicki's birthday party; then on Thursday we had our last discernment meeting and dinner with Dan; I ran into her at the movie theater on Friday; and finally the farewell BBQ last night (which turned out fantastic). These were all happy occasions. So, I left for church this morning knowing that it would be an important and meaningful day. I even stuffed a tissue into my pocket as I rushed out the door--just in case. I was managing pretty well until Karla approached me at the communion rail. I couldn't look up. The dam broke just about the time the wafer touched my hand. We held hands for a moment. That was it. I couldn't take any more. I half stumbled into the sacristy with a communion wafer epoxied to the roof of my mouth and stood hunched over the counter, trying desperately to be something other than a nearly 45 year old man having a public breakdown. I don't know why I'm writing this; all I'm doing is making it hurt all over again.

I'm not sure what more to write about this day. I've written and erased several paragraphs trying to get the words out of my head so I can go to bed. Perhaps what I want to say is, Thank you God for the grace and blessing of Karla's ministry at St. Andrews. She stood with me at my confirmation, worked beside me and led though my vestry and warden service, invited me into her pulpit to preach, "married" me and Dan, sees me for who I am (often better than I see myself), believes in me, and has paid me the great compliment of letting down her guard to tell some of her own stories. What wondrous gifts. Thanks be to God.

Making time

Today I'm trying to make progress on a couple of different fronts. The laundry's in the machine, I'm doing a little writing, and I've just mixed up a batch of print paste (a gallon of slippery ooze that used for printing with dye). This afternoon Dan and I are going to Home Depot to get some insulation board to redo the surface of my print table. This might not sound like an exciting day to everyone, but it's pretty good so far in my book. I've got some ideas for a design I want to work on, and I'm hoping to be able to do some printing tomorrow afternoon.

Dan and I went to see the new Harry Potter movie last night (Order of the Phoenix). We walked into the theater lobby and ran into about 10 people from church. It ended up being a nice, effortless group outing. The movie is good. I enjoyed it as an entertainment undo itself, but I don't think it creates the same sense of darkness as the book. The book is long, and obviously has to be cut to make a tolerable screenplay. For me, the resulting film seems a bit fast paced, and there are elements of plot and character development that end up being present only by implication or through an understanding based on having read all of the books up through Order of the Phoenix. All that said, I don't think I'd want to sit through the 6 hour film that would result from leaving nothing out!

Tonight is Karla's farewell BBQ and "celebrity roast." Should be fun.

Whoa! How can it be Thursday already?

This probably hasn't been the best week of my life, but then I guess it hasn't been the worst either. I had a little meltdown last night--well, maybe something between a meltdown and a hissy fit. I think it was brought on by a combination of several things, but was largely a delayed reentry reaction. It's hard to go from being completely immersed in something that you love--something that's fulfilling and spiritually renewing--back into your normal routine. It's never really fun to come back from vacation, but I find that coming back from a workshop is significantly harder. My little fit had a lot to do with my not having found any time this week to sketch, paint, print, etc. The height of my creative activity was when I threw a piece of cloth into the washer that still had residue of batik wax on it. That just wasn't really as satisfying as actually making that piece of cloth. Perhaps this weekend will be a little better. Even if I just draw for an hour I think things will be a little better.

Here's a picture I snapped on holiday a couple of years ago. I love the look of weathered painted wood--boats, barns, fences. I think it speaks of weather, experience, and survival, not unlike the lines and gray (or missing) hairs we all accumulate over time.

I love what happens to it when you sample small rectangular shapes out of it. Maybe I'll use some of these for some abstract sketching exercises. The more I look at these strips the more it's making me think about strip quilting with not just a combination of commercial and hand-dyes, but also incorporating photographic elements. I'll have to come back to that idea.

It's Monday again

Work was a little more normal today. Most everybody's back in the office from their extended holiday, and I'm feeling a little bit more present. By that I mean that I'm starting to recover from workshop brain--for better or worse.

Yesterday I rearranged by basement dye studio and did some work to improve the lighting. Among the things that I learned at Peters Valley is that my work table is woefully inadequate. The surface isn't really padded correctly and I don't have enough depth or the proper subsurface to pin into. The tape thing just isn't cutting it because I'm not able to put the fabric tight enough to print well. I've scoped out the insulation board at Home Depot. Now I just need to figure out how to get it home.

I've also been reviewing a couple of years of digital photos, looking for reoccurring subjects, colors, textures. I'm starting to get a descent handle on some of the basic dye, print, screen, discharge, etc. techniques; and I think I have some sense for color. What I feel I need though, is some more formal reflection on the content/subject matter of my own personal imagery and color palette. What is it that makes my work mine and recognizable as such?

Some of the photo subjects that I found are:

• Old buildings
• Urban scenery
• Trees
• Flowers
• Things with interesting textures or patterns
• Rocks
• Water (fountains, rivers, lakes)
• Moss (lots and lots of moss)
• Leaves of all colors
• Ferns
• Ocean/beach
• Just about anything in the desert
• Vast expanses of clear blue sky contrasted with almost any foreground subject
• Close focus shots (almost always of plants)
• Interesting spots of color that stand out against their background
• Compositions that play with short depth of field with the focal point either close or mid-range
• Car tail lights at night shot from a moving car, jerky and out of focus
• Thousands of pictures of our cats (they are so patient)
• Random household objects (I found a forgotten study I did of a dirty coffee cup with dried cappuccino residue.

Subjects that are conspicuously missing were:

• Sunsets, other than those taken on vacation (I mean, it's practically a holy obligation on Santorini)
• People
• Children who are not my niece or nephews
• Dirt/trash
• Cars/boats/planes (That's Dan's department)
• Sporting events (yawn)
• News and hardcore photojournalism

So, I've been thinking about this stuff for a while and I'm going to try to sort it out, try to make some meaning out of it. Just what I need right, more self examination. When I was writing yesterday's post I was looking at Jane Dunnewold's site to get the name of one of her CDs. I noticed that she has co-authored a new book titled, "Finding Your Own Visual Language." (At least I think it's new). It sounds like a good structured series of exercises, and pretty much exactly what I'm talking about doing. It's on the way. We'll see how it goes.

Sunday evening stuff

Despite my carping about going to church as opposed to hanging out on the porch, I'm glad I went. It was good--better than it's been in a while. It's a bit of a strange time right now. Our priest, Karla was married two weeks ago and is leaving next week to become rector of a parish in North Carolina, where she and her husband will be living. I'm happy for her, but the reality of our parting is starting to set in. I've been intentionally focusing on the positive aspects of her move. It's probably good for her career to take what she's learned here and apply in a different place. It's great that she and her new husband are not going to try to live in two different places (he's not able to relocate to DC right now). I haven't lost focus on these positive things, but the fact that my friend, adviser, and confidant is not going to be physically present in my daily life is starting to overshadow. We'll see each other a couple of times this week, including a birthday party, a final discernment meeting, and a big parish going-away BBQ. These will all be good, happy times together, but I'm afraid the tears are inevitable. I'm not cute when I cry.

On the subject of Karla. The pictures below are of a liturgical stole that I made for Karla's wedding. The Right Reverend John Bryson Chane, Bishop of Washington, wore it when he married Karla and Steve. Now the stole belongs to Karla, for her to wear when she marries other couples. This feels so very right. Karla officiated at Dan's and my commitment ceremony last October. In an indirect way, I participated in her wedding. Now threads (literally and figuratively) of all of that joy will be part of future weddings.

Bishop Chane and Karla looking at the stole before the wedding (photo: Rich Rennomeron).

Wrapping the happy couple's hands in the stole after the exchange of vows (photo: Rich Rennomeron).

These are the two pieces that make up the front. The piece on the right is painted silk habotai. The piece on the left is sheer polyester, about the weight of a window sheer. The circles are silver composition leaf prepared using Jane Dunnewold's laminating method (and, I confess, no small inspiration from one of her designs). The laminating technique works very well and is clearly documented in Jane's CD titled "Paper and Metal Leaf Lamination," which is available at www.complexcloth.com. If you ever have a chance to take a workshop with Jane DO IT. She's great. So, as I look at these pieces I think I like them better as individuals than I do in combination. The photo shows two pure elements.

Here are a few shots of the finished piece, The top two layers are hand quilted with gold metallic thread to a piece of lightweight interfacing and there are small clusters of seed beads sewn into the middle of each circle. What was I thinking?

I wanted the back to be something radically different, with an element of tension. The wedding day is all pretty colors and shiny things, but marriage is a more complicated mix, which I tried to convey through uneven color and pattern. The words running along the back are part of the wedding vows. I think it's neat that when the priest wraps the couple's hands in the stole they see some of both sides.

Sunday morning stuff

There aren't enough hours in the weekend--in my life for that matter. I can't really complain about this weekend in particular, since I did spend a good part of yesterday playing. Now it's Sunday morning about 9AM. I've had a cup of coffee, puttered around the house a bit, and now I'm sitting on the back porch with no real desire to leave this spot for a few hours if that were actually possible. I've got to get up soon, make myself look semi-presentable, and run off to church.

I feel a little guilty when I don't do that with a gleeful spring in my step. Church--faith for that matter--have never been simple things for me, at least not as an adult. For the last year, as I've considered the possibility of vocational ministry (that's a churchy way of saying becoming a priest--Episcopal priest that is), Sunday morning has become a much more complicated milestone in the cycle of the week.

I should probably digress here for a minute and explain that in the Episcopal church one does not individually choose to become a priest. It's a much larger and longer community process. It generally begins by discussing your sense of calling with your parish priest. That's the first gate through which you have to pass. You don't go any further in the "process" without your priest's endorsement, except possibly to another parish in search of a different priest. The next step is often to begin meeting with a spiritual director, if you're not doing so already. This is an experienced and/or trained person (lay or ordained) with whom you can talk, listen, and reflect about your spiritual journey. I am blessed to have a great director (that's such an understatement).

That's where I've been for the last year and a half: meeting with my director and my priest, reading, thinking, writing. Part of the reason for taking so much time is that the next step in the process--formal discernment--was shutdown in the Diocese of Washington for retooling. Discernment processes vary from one diocese to another, but from what I know they all involve the aspirant (person who thinks they are called to ordained ministry) discerning their call with a group of people. There are also essays to write, a psych evaluation, many many forms to fill out, ultimately leading to a meeting with your bishop who, like your parish priest, is charged with the task of saying yes or no. It's not an election or decision by committee (although there are recommendations). The final decision comes down to two people: the bishop and the aspirant. So, all of this formal discernment takes about a year and ultimately could result in the aspirant becoming a postulant, which means that you can now apply to an Episcopal seminary, spend 3 years in school and fieldwork, endure incredible scrutiny, sit for the General Ordination Exams, and ultimately end up back with your bishop saying yes or no. At some point along the way (I think senior year) the postulant has become a candidate for holy orders. Next comes ordination as a deacon, about 6 months of deaconal service in a parish, then ordination to the priesthood.

So, guess what I did? The diocesan discernment process began again with a weekend retreat last month. I didn't go. The plan is for these retreats to happen quarterly rather than annually, but this one was the first and last chance to enter the 1-year cycle in 2007 in time to complete it in summer 2008 and begin seminary in fall 2008. I just extended my own journey by another 12 months! Why?!? I don't have a nice neat answer for that. I don't doubt my faith and I don't doubt that I am experiencing a time of new calling in my life (see what spiritual direction does to your vocabulary). What I'm doubting, or perhaps stumbling over, is whether ordained ministry is the way I should respond to this call. If you accept that we are all called to some form of ministry to the world and our fellow creatures, then is this the right form of ministry for me?

And, in 1000 words or less, that's why Sunday morning is complicated for me. It's 950. Time to get ready for church.

Later that day--more about deconstructed screen printing

The tubing was fun, but I'm whipped.

Continuing the story about Peters Valley...I've done screen printing in the past and, while I like the control it can provide when it's done well, I can't say that I've ever really done it well. For the last year a lot of my work has involved fairly simple cloth manipulation (I can hardly call it shibori), low-water immersion dying/over-dying, followed by discharge and/or paint applied by stamp, stencil, and brush. I've also done some reasonably successful work with thermofax screens.

The stuff that I was doing in Kerr and Rayna's workshop has taken me to a new level, opened a lot of design possibilities, and really loosened me up. Up to now I've worked on large quilt tops that used my hand-dyed cloth, but most of those pieces of cloth were prepared as strips or as full widths of less than 1 yard. Last week in the studio I didn't touch a piece of fabric under a yard. You'd think that much empty white space would be intimidating, but it was actually liberating.

Certainly the screen allows you to deposit dye quickly over a large area, but the object isn't to just gob on dye--or at least usually it's not. What I found though was that when I looked at the screen as a dynamic mark-maker, rather than as an intimidating, technically precise stencil, I embraced a tool that allowed me to work large enough and quickly enough to force my brain into improvisational mode--if there is such a thing. No, I wasn't just grabbing any old scoop of dye paste and throwing it in the screen. I was a little more intentional than that. What I mean is that the ever-changing pattern produced by the deconstructing screen contributed enough texture and life to the finished product to allow me to to focus on color and pattern. You might say that invited or accepted the screen's participation in the process. OK, now look at the name of my BLOG and listen as I ask the essential question, "Does any of this make sense?" I've got a long way to go, but I feel like I've got a good new start.

Here are a couple of samples of pieces from the workshop that might help illustrate the point. I'll post more over the next few days.

Deconstructed screen ready to be released.

The yardage on the left is the result of printing with the screen shown above.


Screens drying in the sun and finished pieces batching in black plastic.

Why am I awake at 630?

I woke up this morning wanting to write. I guess that's a good thing. My journal hasn't seen as much action as I might like lately. I'm not sure where this BLOG will go, or even if it will, but I'm can't see it replacing entirely the experience of writing in my journal--preferably with a really good fountain pen (we'll have to discuss the fountain pen fetish another time).

If you've just read my very first post (yeah), then there's a better-than-average chance that what you're wondering about most is the God thing. Me too. I promise that I'll get to that. It's unavoidable.

For now, let's talk about the amazing experience I had last week at the Peters Valley Craft Center (www.pvcrafts.org). I went for a 5-day workshop called, "Two of a Kind: Think of Silkscreen & Batik" taught by Kerr Grabowski and Rayna Gillman (graciously stepping in for Els van Baarle, who was unable to be there). Now, I'm not exactly a veteran of dozens of fiber workshops, However, based on the few that I have taken (not to mention tons of other management workshops) I am willing to testify with conviction that there was something amazing happening in that place, in that studio, with those people. We ate, we drank, we shared stories and art, worked our asses off, and it was great.

Here's a picture of Kerr, Rayna, and Jesse (our studio assistant). The mess in the foreground is my work area. It's a mess, gosh, what a surprise.

This was my first exposure to Kerr's method of deconstructed screen printing (adding thickened dye to a screen, letting it dry, then releasing it with a sodium alginate paste--with or without added dye). It was also the first time I've done batik since I was in my teens. Combining the two--wax in the screen, wax on the cloth--added even more possibilities.

Oh shoot. Look at the time. Gotta go. I'm off to go tubing on the Shenandoah River with a bunch of friends from church. Few things are as much fun as floating down a slow river on a hot day with your ass in an inner tube.

A beginning

I suppose that I could start with a review of my entire life, with particular focus on the mental exercises and general upheaval of the past few years. I think that would be more than a little tiring for everyone involved. Besides, I'm not sure that I want to attempt that in a single session. Suffice to say for now that the following is an adequate, if categorical, description of me:

• I'm 44, which I was recently reminded is essentially mid-life.
• I've been "married" to the same man (Dan) for 16 years.
• We live in a quiet middle-class neighborhood in College Park, Maryland.
• My immediate family are all fairly close by and my parents still live in the house I grew up in. Everyone from Dan's side of the family is in New York or New Jersey, which is still pretty close.
• I work for a publisher as a project manager for internal IT projects. This job uses virtually none of what I studied in school (BS and MA in Geography). While it's financially rewarding and "challenging" it sometimes makes me feel like I'm in the wrong skin at times. I think maybe lots of people feel that way at one time or another.
• I was raised Methodist, drifted away from church, then discovered the Episcopal church as an adult. My church community and my faith are both big parts of my life.
• For the past several years, but particularly for about the last two, I've been considering seriously whether I believe I have a call to ordained ministry. "Call" is most definitely a churchy word, but I'm sure that will be addressed in detail in some future post.
• I've been an artist my entire live, but have only been willing to call myself by that name for the past year.

These two big things--art and church--are the contenders in the tug-of-war that is my life, or so it seems at times.

That's a pretty concise summary. Perhaps too concise, but it sets the stage on which the story can unfold.