leaf love and a month-long magical mystery tour

Would you like to join me for a workshop?

A long one that lasts a month?

Want to learn different ways of bundling to

let those lovely string marks shine on your work?

Want to know to bring saved dried leaves back to life?

Would you like to ease into a daily morning writing practice,

connect with a whirled-wide community and

dance your way through February?

Why February?

It might be the shortest month but in the North,

though we all know that the earth needs a rest before

the abundance of spring, the long hours of dark together

with driech weather can get to your soul.

And not in a good way.

Here in the South we just feel the roasting

heat of summer will never end.

So once again I have dreamed up an adventure

that can be enjoyed from wherever you are in the whirled.

It begins now, with a wee bit of prep, then goes to sleep

while you deal with whatever

the Festive Season is throwing at you 😉.

Late in January I'll send a wakey-wakey email

to remind you that the fun is about to begin,

and then every day in February

an email will fly in from me, with instructions

for the mystery project that we are making together. 

All I will tell you now is that it is both beautiful and useful,

and that we will be using cloth from your stash

and your ragbag along with whatever threads

you want to stitch with,

and all of the beads and buttons your heart desires.

You'll begin each day with quiet moments of grounding,

light a candle, do a little writing and then work on your project,

step by step until it all comes together

and you take it out into the light of day

at the end of the month.

And did I mention pie?

There will be pie.

Want to know more ?

Please click on the heart below.

dear blogger, could you please get your act together?

Blogger is being extremely sporadic about letting me comment, even on my own blog.
Commenting on others, forget it.

This evening there was a comment on a post from 2009.

A number of (frustrating) attempts at answering have failed, so here goes.

"Janice McEwen25 January 2019 at 23:54

India we are trying to help save the kelp forests from destructive mechanical harvesting, here in West Cork,Ireland. I am experimenting with bundles of cotton fabric using seaweed for dye patterns, but having trouble getting much to happen. I wonder if silk would be better and seaweed as mordant. This would become banners for a public art project. Maybe I need to add something to the mix to bring out the colours of the plants? I am a novice, have the bundle book, and would appreciate any suggestions you might have. Janice McEwen "

Answer: dyeing cotton is tricky, silk will be more rewarding. And seaweed generally plays more nicely when wrapped around a piece of metal.

Want to learn more useful things about dyeing with plants and wandering the whirled with your eyes open?

'being(t)here', one of the most popular workshops I've offered over the years, is now available online at the School of Nomad Arts. It begins with the new moon in March with offerings every 28 days or so, into December

please click here for more information

celebrating both collaboration and compromise

it's been a while since I had anything really interesting to tell y'all but today I have two things to talk about.
one is the fabulous scarf I was gifted when I visited the Netherlands last (northern) summer, woven from her own exquisite handspun yarns by Caitlin Bongers (she's the one with the voice of the angels who started us all singing by the River Tay a couple of years back).
the other can wait for a moment.

the scarf waited patiently while I sailed in and out of home, emptying suitcases and refilling them, patting the dog, grubbing a few thistles and explaining to my cat just why I had to leave again. it was a busy year. so much so that I consciously cleared my dance card for the first three months of this one, so that I could find some space to breathe, to prepare for the next lot of teaching and to think about what my part of the collab might entail.

I should explain that when I received this gorgeous armful of softness I was quite overwhelmed. I know what it takes to warp up and weave something, and this piece is especially beautiful. I asked Caitlin if she would mind me dyeing it, and being given permission I suggested we regard it as a collaboration.

so this week, in between working on the "other thing" that I will shortly reveal, I sat in the armchair, dogs at my feet, cats and kittens disporting themselves over my shoulders, and decided that I would knot the fringe of the scarf. such gentle repetitive work is good for quieting the mind. while working I listened to a podcast from On Being, John O'Donohue discoursing gently on beauty. it was perfect.

then I was moved to take my needle and do just a little stitching into the piece. just a little.

I soaked it in a diluted iron brew (students may remember it as 'magic potion', made by soaking rusty things in vinegar, and heavily diluted for use otherwise everything can turn black)

it was firmly bundled with Eucalyptus scoparia windfall, and then cooked in a pre-loved dark brew. (it doesn't matter what your bundle is cooked in, it's what's inside the bundle that's important)

when it cooled, I unrolled it, and it just took my breath away.  THANK YOU Caitlin, for entrusting this treasure to me. it will be joining the "essential travel kit".

and the other thing?  that belongs to the 'compromise' part of the title of this post. various people had been kindly urging me to consider making an e-course, but I simply couldn't come at standing and talking into a camera. I'm not good at doing and talking at the same time. something to do with the cerebral hemispheres.

but I do like making books. so the compromise is that I have made a wee book that is a kind of workshop-in-your-pocket (or on your screen if you take the PDF version). it's mostly handwritten rather than typed but I wanted it to feel as though you were looking over my shoulder into a notebook.

what's in it? it contains the secrets of the tsunobukuro, that magical bias stitched bag of Japan that I so frequently share with students. (little ones are perfect for buying vegetables, the in-between sizes brilliant for gathering leaves, twigs or keeping your clothes sorted in a suitcase...and I always carry an extra-large one in case I run out of luggage space.)

it is available at blurb.com and if you send me proof of purchase (via the contact form on my website) I shall invite you to the 'secret' Facebook group where, for the month of February, I shall be posting tips and tricks and one or three "how to's", and where you can post images of the bags that you make, and have conversations with fellow 'baggers' around this marvellous whirled.

thank you for staying with me and for reading thus far. 

here are some related links to explore.

Caitlin's blog

the riversong

On Being

bagstories (the book)

feeding the indigo vat

when Ma left us to go on her next big adventure, among the stuff she left behind was a modest esky (across the ditch you'd know that as a chilly bin, across the puddle it might be a cooler, and I've never encountered one in Old Blighty so I've no idea what you might call it there)

it's a well-insulated device made of plastic. Ma used hers for fish bait, possibly also for gin.

the extendable handle is a bit rusty (and cannot be removed for restoration by boiling in a eucalyptus bath) but inside it was squeaky clean. as I pondered it, I had an idea.

 

it's very cold here in winter. we don't get snow very often but it's pretty nippy. I decided to liberate the esky and give it new life as an indigo vat. the insulation helps keep the temperature up and it's quite easy to rewarm it when it does cool down (three days of neglect and it's down to lukewarm) by standing one or two old wines bottle full of hot water in it. (hot stones are good, too, but more difficult to handle.)

and while my favourite indigo vat is made with bananas, they're rather pricey right now (usually cheaper in school holidays, as less lunches are being packed!) and so I am nourishing the vat with other substances. I'm a bear who likes to make the most of local resources, so (thanks to a conversation I had with Charlotte Kwon a few months ago, when she said the vat would probably be just as happy eating compost) I've been experimenting by boiling up the vegetable trimmings and feeding the liquor to the vat.

the chickens are delighted because they're getting cooked scraps :: much easier to eat!

celery and sweet potato

beetroot and pineapple peels

pouring in the brew (better to hold it closer to the surface and thus introduce less air, but trickier to photograph if you happen to be doing it all yourself)

the main thing is to keep it warm, check the pH and, as Michel Garcia so charmingly says, remember to feed the donkey before you put it to bed.

what are you feeding yours? I'd be interested to know.

learning life lessons

it was a splendid road trip
pootling across Australia with Kubbi the One-Eyed Wonder Dog
nine hours on the road (punctuated by frequent stops to
wander in the bush and gaze at flora)
is a lot of thinking time.

there and back again is twice that.

I always learn something new from teaching workshops
but
what became crystal clear to me during the three days at Beautiful Silks Botanical Studio
is that the work I do
is also my own big life lesson.

that the act of teaching is my personal journey to be the best person (in this life) that I can be.
it isn't all roses, and it's hard sometimes to resist being catty about the way that the "ecoprint", a term I optimistically coined in 1999, has been hijacked to be anything but "eco-friendly" or sustainable.
because when I hear of the mountains of plastic and the bucket-loads of adjunct mordants being used out there I do become quite despondent.


but then I read this


"Thank you, for another brilliant, creative soul feeding workshop, that brought a group of strangers together but leaving as friends"


and it warms my heart because it reminds me of what is really important.

it isn't the brightness of the colour (though we certainly had that) or the volumes of product ... it's the connections we make when we gather together around a cauldron.



in this instance, a "second skin" class, it was also about the empowerment that comes with the simple skills of making.

I'd probably have made truckloads of loot over the years if I had just kept the botanical contact print process a secret and churned out yardage or silk pyjamas and a squillion printed wool scarves, but for me the greater satisfaction comes with seeing the happy smiles that bloom when dresses grow using simple running stitch, lovely threads and beautiful cloth. (all all we need, really, is 'enough')







in "second skin" we make string, measure with it, make a few marks with graphite and then boldly cut and sew.
no clatter of machines, just the quiet ebb and flow of conversation, and sometimes simply gentle silence.

and magic happens.

in this last class people shared so many life skills beyond just sewing and dyeing.
friendships were forged, wisdoms exchanged.

and that makes my life worth living. with bells on.

and then (fresh from the cauldron)
I was given the most magnificent present hand-stitched
with so much love, and dyed in my favourite colours.
 thank you, Robyn.
it's going to wander with me.

blue seas blue skies blue daze

from Mukilteo i took the ferry to Whidbey Island

and discovered

to my great delight

that our studio space was positioned in a most romantic place

Camp Casey

on the coast, by the Salish Sea

with a forest behind

and remarkable fortifications to explore

the buildings were spare and beautiful, white walls, wooden floors

and with a room above the studio that we could use for installations, poetry readings, the occasional dance...and a good space in which to practice my lovely Native American flute

the beach proved a marvellous studio space as well
and falling leaves from the forest behind coloured cloth as well as paper


and such beautiful stones


from Whidbey I came to Vancouver, which seems to be a city of stone stackers

at Maiwa East we worked on our aprons, wrote poetry, received the blessing of blue

and made string

some of the string found itself transformed

and all of it became blue in the course of time

eucalypts, as ever, seem to be incurably fascinating, and a student was very happy with her work (below)

especially when combined with local colour

in our class at Maiwa we had a songbird
here's one of the songs she sang for us (or rather, to the indigo vats)
unaccompanied and with the voice of an angel
and may i say
her version eclipsed the original, and the Sarah Mc Lachlan cover

i'll be on my way home soon
dreaming blue dreams way up in the sky

everything we need is here

For the first time in ages (a scant week in Aotearoa doesn't really count) I'm making a substantial journey that doesn't involve teaching; having come to Europe primarily in the role of carer for my Ma, who despite falling and cracking her hip four weeks ago decided she would rather come on the trip anyway than languish in a hospital bed.

I came away thinking I might knit or write in any spare time. 

Ha. 

The Dogs Above had other ideas. 

First I accidentally found a silk shirt at the thrift store. 

Then I was poking around a ruin and found a dyepot. 

I hadn't even brought string...so I made some.

There was a barbecue arrangement but no matches. So I purloined a glowing coal from a nearby sauna. It was that, or use the toaster. Don't ask. 

The twigs were all a bit damp. Happily I had some firewater with me (thank you Schlosshotel Kronberg!!) and a piece of linen rag. It proved an effective combination. 

I gathered some old friends from the roadside 

At first the brew (unusually) turned green. 

Rather an idyllic location, don't you think?

Holidays. Gotta love em.