Weaving, for me, is a practice. There is a zen state in my studio yurt–a peaceful sacredness that has a different resonance from our home of at Farmstead Creamery. In the yurt, there is quiet stillness, the sounds of the wind and the birds, and the gentle rustle and thump of the weaving process itself. I wanted to share some of that experience with you, as if you could sit with me in the studio.
Tapestry Weaving Demonstration
The weaver in quarantine looks unchanged–the work carries on, one thread at a time. The world turns, spring haltingly moves her way forward, and the process continues. The artist who has created her sacred studio space at home can carry on the journey unabated. I feel for my grad school friends who had to pack up their NY studios and cart what they could back to their apartments for the duration–yikes! Be safe my friends out there. I am fortunate that, like cottage industries dating back to the dawn of weaving, my tools of the trade are close at home and close at hand.
Finally, “Zen Cranes” is growing to enough height that I can see how my interpretation of the photo by Kathy Bishop is working out. Stepping back, hints of the depth and movement of the water, shadows, and reeds are appearing.
While it still seems like the tapestry has a loooooong way to go, much of the time-consuming decision making about color, texture, interpretation, and visual phrasing is set in motion. And the higher up I weave on the piece, the fewer reeds there are (sigh of relief), so speed will come exponentially with height. I am certainly looking forward to the part where I can work in the crane feathers! Not yet, not yet, but it’s coming.
My encouragement to you is that you use this time at home to be creative, whether or not you have a full studio available. Claim even a corner, a chair, a table, the garage, whatever it takes. Be expressive, immersive, lose yourself in the work. The process is healing and grounding and a critical part of being human. Stay safe and healthy my friends, and carry on!