group theory

we are on beautiful Maui
a sacred island where time slows down and turtles wander up the beach
where the days seem to drift gently but the week
has rushed by





















we have written poetry
made drawings, stitched, dyed
made things new to us that appear to have taken up some ancient island essence
gathered shells and made string



there are thirteen of us + me
which makes fourteen (+ our fearless leader, Sharon)
so fifteen in total

nine are recidivists, four are new to me
there are three sets of friends (in two of them, one of each has met me before)
and a mother and daughter (there were nearly two family groups, but my Ma didn't make it)
there are five Australians, ten Americans
two dual nationals (one American Australian, one Latvian Australian), and two Australians who emigrated to America
among the returners, three came to New Mexico , one to Whidbey Island
one to Inverness, one to Santa Barbara, one to Odessa and two to a class in Australia

my mathematical genius (and conscientious objector) grandfather would have had great joy in devising a Venn diagram.

I began to try and draw one, but it turned into a paeonie.

the marvellous thing is that this group melded remarkably quickly into sisterhood.
the talk is easy, the laughter flows close to the surface :: I feel deeply blessed that the work I do brings me together with people whom I hope I see again

I am also hoping to return to Maui, but who knows where or how the winds will blow, the way our precious whirled is going...

From the Mercury in Hobart

getting ready to be (t)here

'being (t)here' is a class i love to teach. each time is an adventure in itself

it's a class which is suited as much to a forest as to a riverside

or even an industrial wasteland

magic is everywhere, the delight is in the detail

and everything has a fascination if you look at it with your heart

this week i will be in Tasmania

(i love islands)

installing back country for Ten Days on the Island  (recently renamed the Tasmanian International Arts Festival) before class begins - it will have a new piece in it to replace the one acquired by the Tamworth Regional Gallery last month -

the only really tricky bit is editing which resources to take,

choosing a teacup for the ride

and trying to reorganise the sewing box/tool kit

which seems to have a mind of its own.

happily i can make do most of the time

so long as i have my trusty collection of readings with me

and a piece of string to hang them on.

the last piece of string stayed in Aotearoa

it was as long as the flight from New Orleans to Vancouver.

tomorrow i will make a string that will measure the distance from Adelaide to Hobart

while gazing out the window of the plane

i will confess i do love flying, though it's admittedly not the kindest mode of transport in terms of the environment

but

it would take a long time to get to Tasmania on my windsurfer

and my books would get wet. 

someone else has a mind of her own, too.
it seems Martha has taken Kubbi aside and given her The Word on suitcases
(in a few months time she won't fit in)



PS i'm not entirely sure, but i think some places remain open in being (t)here classes in Scotland and France later this year

Bundles and stones

Bundles doing their red carpet thing 

Hands at work

Windfall magic

and a gorgeous walk after work 

A beautiful day, marked with a rather nice stack of stones. 

dear Viola

dear Viola von Hohenzollern

in case you were watching from your island yesterday
and wondering what on earth was going on
let me explain.

a group of fabulous women spent five days working together in a beautiful garden, being fed simply wonderful food, sewing zero-waste nightgowns [some of which are seeing daylight instead] and celebration dresses, making string and writing poetic words about how a dress should make you feel

on the last day, they came to Cable Bay
to unbundle their handsewn, bio-regionally dyed dresses
and to celebrate the joy of being together
- you may have heard a lot of laughter
and a bit of splashing.

the pictures below will explain all.

i am the lucky soul who was tending the cauldrons.
if you ever feel inclined to have an artist reside on your island for a while, to make you something beautiful using the plants and the wool that grow there, do let me know. i'd be delighted.
warmly,

India

small wonder

this small patch of paradise in the Lud Valley

looks a good deal like Monet's Garden

without the hordes of tourists and the Japanese bridge

[but there are plans for a pond or two]

there are no snakes

[or foxes]

so i can wander about with bear/bare feet

as long as i am careful not to step on the friendly bees

[otherwise i might get a beefoot]

or

step in the cauldron

which would not be[e] a Good Plan

we work outside on the deck

scattered about the soft lawn

around the fire [for which we have a permit]

or under the trees

where birds sing constantly, continuously and melodiously 

we have been making string

sewing zero waste nightgowns [using every scrap of a 1m x 1.3m piece of cloth]

thinking of how we will want our shapeshifter dresses to make us feel

and stitching those words on morsels of cloth

taking time to be, in this good place

+

at intervals Chloe appears with wonderful food

[most of which has been grown here in the gardens]

and the day concludes with a sumptuous afternoon tea

small wonder

New Zealanders call their country godzone...

at Maiwa

i left Lopez with considerable reluctance

but warmed by the comforting thought that

i will be back. it really feels like another home.

it's a rare thing to feel so compatible with hosts you've only just met

that it doesn't feel at all out of the ordinary to be sitting over the remains of dinner

reading poetry to each other

and comparing pocket music libraries

+

it was a very good time

thank you Christi

and Patsy & John Sangster

and all my lovely students

the train journey up the coast

was truly beautiful

through dazzling scenery

+

now i'm teaching at Maiwa

[again being thoroughly pampered by my kind hosts]

and there is rather a lot of magic emanating from the dyepots

the pavements provided a clue

as to potentially useful material

prunus leaves

literally scraped out of the gutters

the magic of maple

dogwood over prunus over cotoneaster

and good old sugar maple strutting her stuff