messages in bottles

there's a little note on blogger-buzz [you'll find that on your blogspot dashboard] suggesting folks might like to write a post on what blogging means to them.

so here goes.

for me, it's quite simply a gentle and [relatively] environmentally friendly way of popping a message in a metaphorical bottle and setting it loose on the imaginary seas

without upsetting

the seals and whales or the whirled oceans

or getting my boots wet

every so often a bottle washes up on some distant shore

and 

every now and then

a message finds its way back again

what i find truly enchanting about the whirled wide web is that what was developed as a communicatory tool for an armed force [the US Army] has become the instrument of friendships around the whirled

and i'm not so innocent that i don't think it's also a handy way of scanning the thoughts of the masses for information

so here's a wave to you too, Big Brother, wherever you are. i know it's not Big Sister watching, she's much too busy collecting up all those socks that get eaten by washing machines each week.

exhibition opening

raku work by Lyn Reeves

the reason i was invited to Tasmania was to open an exhibition

those who know me well will be aware that i have a speech impediment

meaning

i'm not keen on making speeches

however i decided to be brave

and read a prepared text

which some people seemed to think was ok

under the circumstances

so

i thought perhaps i'd reprint it here...

Words spoken at the opening of ‘wabi-sabi – from rags to rust, the art of imperfection’ July 26, 2009

 

the older I become and the less time it seems likely I shall have on this beautiful earth the more I realise the importance of taking more time to be slow about the things I do

and to engage with the whirled

to take time to appreciate that string of pearls that is “the moments of now” that scatter like raindrops on a river as we wander our life journey

collections of  “moments of now” make up the works we see here today. We call them artworks but they are only the tips of the metaphorical iceberg that is the

Art   -   Work

the thought, hand, making and shaping that was involved in the realisation of the pieces we see

those “moments of now” cannot be pinned down like beetles in a museum.they slip elusively away shimmering and dancing; swooping like dragonflies on the pond of memory

for me the concept of wabi-sabi is as undefinable.

my wise friend the potter Petrus Spronk says that the spirit of wabi comes about as a result of the work being made with great care and attention

and that the spirit of sabi comes about as a result of equally great care and attention from the user

and that in this way the work becomes complete.

Leonard Koren writes that wabi sabi is

…a beauty of things humble….

ask a Japanese person to define it and the response often implies that the need to ask belies the possibility of understanding.

for me it is the difference between a philosophy that strives to say something with a work

and

one in which materials from nature are worked with care and respect to find a voice that gives the object meaning

in a similar spirit, as a traveller I find the most satisfying journeys have been those in which I have taken the time to listen to land and place

taken time for life to find me rather than seeking out experience or nailing myself to a timetable

it is a frugal approach that finds joy in small detail.

a wabi-sabi of wanderings, taking gentle walks

stopping to listen and being open to the magic that is all around

the works that are being displayed in this place show that others too have found this magic

the makers have been attentive and have listened to the whirled

they have allowed their materials to find a voice through their hands and hearts.

i have pleasure in welcoming you to enjoy the work and invite you to give it the care and attention the makers have brought to it

thank you

 

more island life

at dawn on Steele's Island the ground is covered with a thin fur of ice

essentially the island is a midden composed of enormous shells

moss grows almost to the waters' edge

a stitched and felted landskin soaking in the briny rivermouth before baptism in the dyebath

island life

despite being somewhat steam rollered by a Big Year a little voice told me to say 'yes, please' when an invitation came from the South Island [Tasmania]

to visit there and say a few words at the opening of an exhibition

and also

to hold a workshop

i left it all entirely in the hands of Desiree Fitzgibbon,

thinker, poet, painter

and now also friend and skinsister

on arrival she took me to Rosny Farm

where my work was showing as

Nine Patch

in the Schoolhouse Gallery

from there we wandered on to Steele's Island

a truly magical spot

by some miracle the owners were away and so i played Robinson Crusoe for a night 

marooned [very happily] on the island

taking a lovely walk in the last light

and greeting the day, all by myself on a frost encrusted beach on the morning of the workshop

and yes, i'm aware i live a fortunate life....and i am grateful.

 

a marvellous night for a moondance

there's rather a lot of fuss about the moon in recent days...and who left which footprint with what and where.

where were you when it was all going on 40 years ago?

i was at school in Germany. we started our day early at 8am...but by 1300hrs we were home again and sitting down to a lovely hot lunch cooked by my delightful great-aunt. there'd be at least 10 people around the table on any day, often quite a few more as starving students would turn up in the hope of a feed. after lunch we'd disappear into the park across the way or the beech forest just up the hill and play to our hearts content.

that month we watched the moon landing on a crackly black-and-white tv. i skeptically wondered why the flag was fluttering, and what the fuss was about

Woodstock had a much greater impact on me - but only about 10 years later, when i finally realised what it meant...not realising it had happened just down the road from where we lived only a little later that same year

here's a clip from the movie "A Walk in the Moon" filmed at a summer camp much like the one we lived at in the fall and winter of '69...excepting we were at Aloha Manor [Vermont] after summer camp was finished and everyone had gone home and back to school

imagine two children aged 10 and 7, running wild in the red leaf fall. paddling canoes on the lake, playing hide-and-seek in the forest. romping in the snow. good times.

winterWorks

'winterworks', originally planned as a symposium focussing on sustainability in textile practice; took place last week

a rather less grand event than earlier anticipated, but possibly the better for being smaller and more intimate. who knows?  here's a little of what happened... 

there was lots of showing and telling

making notes

a visit to Currency Creek Arboretum

where Dean Nicholle [shown here disappearing into the distance] enlightened us about some of the features of the genus eucalyptus, kindly let us collect windfalls for the dyepots

and generously picked us lots of treasures as well

we broke bread together and spent cosy evenings sewing, bundling and reading books [from our library table]

we managed a few walks despite some serious rain

and hung lines full of dyed samples

towards the end of the week we wandered out again, this time to the South Australian Museum

to study objects in the Aboriginal Cultures Gallery

after lunch at the Art Gallery of South Australia we walked to the Adelaide Botanic Garden where we visited the recently restored Museum of Economic Botany [the last colonial Museum of Economic Botany remaining in the world]

 

and popped into the new glasshouse built around the Victoria amazonica

before heading back to the hills for more gentle stitching

[this piece by Holly Story]

it was a rewarding five days...thanks to the generous spirits and warm hearts of those who attended

gin might be a safer alternative...

did you say you'd like something to drink?

  

from the Adelaide Advertiser, July 17th, 2009

winterworks

am off to the Winterworks symposium laden with stuffed goodie bags overflowing with nice things.... including silk from Beautiful Silks, chocolate from Green & Blacks and soap from Ovame

the weather is appropriately wintry but the dyepots should keep us warm

there'll be stories when i return... 

truth, schmuth

i was sent this one by a friend and days later it still has me chortling, 

so i thought i'd better share...

i haven't substantiated the story but let it not be said that i ever got in the way of a good one!

    [allegedly] From last week's Bristol Evening Post [whenever that may have been]
      
    Outside Bristol Zoo is the car park, with spaces for 150 cars and
    8 coaches.  It has been manned for 23 years by the same charming
    and very polite car park attendant with the ticket machine.  The
    charges are £1 per car and £5 per coach.  On Monday 1st June he
    did not turn up for work.  Bristol Zoo managment phoned Bristol
    City Courncil to ask them to send a replacement parking
    attendant.  The Council said "That car park is your
    responsibility"  The Zoo said "The attendant was employed by the
    City Council ....wasn't he?"  The Council said "What attendant?" 
    Gone missing from his home is a man who has been taking the car
    park fees daily, amounting to about £400 a day for the last 23
    years - tax free.