Interesting how plans go awry. For a couple of days I've been thinking about the old tangle, "Quandary." But I haven't drawn it in years and couldn't remember how. Today I grabbed some drawing tools and a tan 3-Z tile and gave it a go despite not remembering, and this was the result. It sure ain't Quandary--what the heck is it? Just some sort of pattern, with escapees in the lower left corner.
But what fun to do. Brainless drawing--just what I love! Nothing to think about, just filling in shapes. Very very soothing.
And just as in life, it didn't turn out as planned. But it turned out fine, anyway.
It's done! My fingers are a bloody mess from trying to push a needle through the thick canvas of the old tote bag to attach the punched piece. One finger is quite sore. But--I did it. Pleased. Thank you Amy Oxford for this design.
I began this tile yesterday, at a late night workshop where everyone else was doing symbolic and pictorial drawings within a circular border and no one else was doing Zentangle® other than me. Given the purpose of the workshop, I think the NON-Zentangle drawings were a better idea (see the Mandala Secrets technique, which has nothing to do with tangling and is extremely interesting--I test-drove it several years ago and enjoyed it but it's not what I want to be doing just now).
Memory is such a tricky business. At this time of year I like to look backwards as well as forwards. "Liminal" was the title of my last post, and I am still there, in liminality. Doorways are the perfect illustration of that--they are transitional places.
I made this drawing 9 years ago today and just saw it again. I have no memory of what I was thinking when I drew it--it's probably a drawing from a photograph of an actual doorway somewhere.
Only after I'd pasted it in here did I notice the small question mark at the bottom of the drawing. What did I mean by that?
“The present changes the past. Looking back you do not find what you left behind.”
― Kiran Desai
A major principle in Zentangle® is captured by the phrase, "No mistakes." Meaning, even if you do something "wrong," there's always a creative opportunity to explore and you may come out with something even better.
So far, despite being obsessed with the tangle below, I get it "wrong" every single time. And yet, it always looks good anyway (to me at least). I drew it on my 2023 calendar; it's "wrong" again, and I still love it.
I was forced to work around the error(s) but ended up with a cover design I will enjoy viewing anyway this year. In the process, though, I believe I have finally figured out the last piece of what I need to change, although I haven't tried it yet. Likely I'll continue to be obsessed by this tangle for some time to come! No mistakes, no mistakes, no mistakes.
Liminal, the word, is from the Latin word limen, meaning "threshold."
So here we are on the boundary between 2022 and 2023.
"Liminality" is that state of passing from one thing to another. Not-still-fully-there, and not-yet-fully-here. A challenging state indeed.
Last week I retrieved a quilt I made 40 years ago and put it on my bed. I love this quilt and loved every stitch I put into it--all by hand.
I'm a textile artist (traditional rug hooking, punch needle rug hooking, and other textile arts), a long-time meditator, a certified meditation teacher and coach, and focused on learning about the interplay of art, creativity, and mindfulness every day.
SITES TO WATCH:
Insight Meditation Society
Oxford Rug Hooking School
Zentangle: The Official Site
Green Mountain Rug Hooking
Massachusetts Tarot Society