Two practice tangles today, my first try at both: Looks as though I have a lot to learn about both of these; both need practice. Sam Taylor didn't misspell her tangle; she took out the "h" to distinguish it from the narwhal whale that inspired the form. Next I went outside and noticed it was just as warm and humid as I had guessed, meaning I won't get to the studio today because it will be unbearable there. So...more tangling. This time I tried a new one called Frost Flowers, starting in the upper left and then scattering the flowers around, finally doing an experimental version on the lower left. And after that, I decided to see if I could combine all of them in one tile, so here it is. I truly enjoyed doing this and found it quite meditative, and I can also step back and see just how much I have to learn about composition, LOL! But no matter. It may not be pretty, but I *am* practicing, and that is what counts. It's kind of hilariously awkward. I've been working so hard on the rug that I haven't had much time for tangling. It appears I am capable of doing on only one project at a time. I have truly missed tangling and now that the weather is about to turn stinky (my definition of stinky = hazy, hot, and humid) I will be able to focus more on tangling and will...alas...have to abandon the rug.
Wool + hazy + hot + humid + no a/c is a dreadful prospect. What I love about both of these arts is that they are both entirely meditative. One line at a time when tangling. One loop at a time when hooking. Both lend themselves to complete absorption in the moment. Both teach me to focus. Both calm the mind , and although one does eventually get a result from both, the aim of any given moment is not results-oriented. Contemplative art/craft...along with meditation, these are highlights in any day in which I get to practice.
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It is absolutely gob-smackingly gorgeous outdoors today. Cool, breezy, no humidity, lots of sun but also lots of clouds to make the sky even more lovely than usual. Walking home from the studio and gawking at the newly fat-leaved trees swaying in the wind and the colorful spring flowers, I felt incredibly fortunate just to be alive. Lewis Carroll's verse from "Jabberwocky" came to mind: 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe..." ...along with one of my all-time favorite lines of poetry, which makes up the title of this post, from that same poem: "Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" I mean, that just about sums up how I feel about today's weather. Wikipedia has a wonderful page on this poem here, including some hilarious translations of the poem into Hebrew, Latin, Finish, Spanish, French, and numerous other languages. I simply cannot imagine hearing this poem in anything other than English, but what do I know? As I slowly recover from this overly-long head cold, it's such a great pleasure to get into the studio again and keep working on the rug. Sometimes, comparison can be very motivating. Here's what I did yesterday (on the left) and then what I got done today in about 4 hours of hooking (on the right): And here's a closeup from yesterday. I'm really liking how "Old Underwear" (the name for the color of the background) is looking; I think it sets off the other colors very well. (below) Working on this piece, often for hours at a time, reminds me of why I love the process of rug hooking. The rhythmic pulling of loops...the same motion repeated endlessly...allows the mind to slow down. It's tactile AND meditative, simultaneously. A wonderful way to calm the mind and make something useful while doing so. Today as I hooked I was listening to several talks from the website Sounds True, part of a month-long series of talks by various teachers on the topic of "Waking Up." Sounds True is having a major business anniversary, so they are making all the talks free this month; after May, they will be charging for the recordings. Today I listened to Ken Wilbur, Eckhart Tolle, and Joseph Goldstein, and thoroughly enjoyed myself as I pulled loop after loop and watched the rug grow. Sometimes I just don't know how I got so lucky, to be able to have this, to be able to do this. "Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered." Lots of counting and packing going on as I prep to teach a beginning Zentangle® class tomorrow night. Always fun to teach in a new venue. This time, however, I'm severely limited in what I can bring since I cannot take my car--too risky to move it and lose my parking. If I lose the space, it could be April before I can get close to my house again (too much snow on the streets here; no one on my street has moved a car in over 3 weeks because of the parking issue). Sad, but there you have it. So I'm lugging everything I need on the bus. That's ok for a beginning class, and I'm lucky that was the plan. In the bag you can just see some kits that new students get, and a notebook with my own work in it. Under that are extra supplies and some other goodies for the students. I'm looking forward to doing this and hope I can post some fun pictures afterwards. On the lower left of the picture you can just see the edge of one of my favorite rugs, which I finished a couple of years ago. A few of the tangles I may teach tomorrow. Just about all packed up now and hope I can schlep all of it safely. As Susan Cain says, "Everyone shines, given the right lighting." Yup, and that's my goal for tomorrow. And one more quote from Bob Brendle: Art/ got its start/ as a thumbprint in the mud." Managed a long walk today, a one-day break from unremitting snow. Most people have cleared sidewalks, but not so at curbs. At one point I needed help getting over a three-foot snow buildup at the end of a sidewalk, and who should materialize but a nice young man who offered his hand gallantly. All I needed was a light hand to balance on and then getting across the barrier was easy, but without him, I couldn't have done it. Thank you, anonymous sir. The sun on the snow was lovely. The five- to six-foot compressed snow buildup was beautiful but I cannot say I thought it was lovely. More snow tomorrow. I'm participating in an art journal project, so yesterday I created the following page. This prompt was about the Inner Critic and how it affects artists. This was my first page on the topic, focusing on the bad sides of the Inner Critic. For most of us it's much more likely to manifest as an inner voice whose main purpose is to trash whatever we do. This gargoyle from La Cathedral Notre-Dame d'Amiens pretty much sums up how I see the Inner Critic when it misbehaves: After the walk today I felt slightly less Cabin-Feverish and was able to focus on the good aspects of the Inner Critic. I do believe constructive criticism has its place. Here was what sprang to mind for one aspect of this, the Elegance of Limits. And here are the two pages together: Late last night I managed a bit more Zentangle. Here is Kate Lamontagne's "Kurtinz." And this is how I felt at various points on my walk today... And here is why:
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ABOUT ME 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. Categories
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March 2024
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