Random thoughts:
KnitOwl
Wednesday, March 27, 2024
Two poems and thoughts
Friday, March 22, 2024
World Tree with Dragon : Progression
pastel underdrawing 'scribble' to music
embellishing with gold and blue paints
defining more features
filling in blank areas
next step would be to go over with a fine brush and black or dark brown, or to go over with a permanent India ink pen
final stage
Monday, March 18, 2024
When is it too much and too little
When it is too much, and too little, and everything in between.
So, there is a project I was asked to do before Thanksgiving, and it has stretched out through what was inarguably a very long, dismal and stressful winter, which could have been worse, and we were so glad that it wasn't.
And I have not done the project. There have been several small attempts, one large attempt - and a lot of thinking about it and being tangentially frustrated about not doing much on it at all, and not feeling like I wanted to, either.
So, when is too much. I tend to be a tenacious person about some things, and not at all - at all - about others. I did try to say I wanted to pass the project on to some other person before - but the project's owner said they still wanted me to do it. So I kept it, and Mark says it is just too much worry and frustration. Perhaps, it is, for there will be no return benefit except saying that I actually got it done - it is not for money or for fame, but just what to someone else might be a few turns of the wrist and there - you're done.
It would be so much simpler if it was like the first project I did for them (perhaps)... that was 'I'd like something like this - it doesn't exist - can you make it?' This is : Here is the item, go make something exactly like it, the same size, the same look, I know you'll do a good job. I find, that specifically, is something I'm not good at. I am not one to replicate something, my perfectionism says I'll never do it.
So I procrastinate. I attempt and fail. I get frustrated and then it colors all of my other projects with the feelings. And of course, I know if I did succeed it would do the same - color the rest with accomplishment... if I do not, and give up, it will remain in the back of my mind. It is a skeleton I can do not enough good with, and even as a success it would be a three penny postage stamp. What does that even mean? I'm not sure. I've been reading a lot lately, but in tiny pieces here and there and everywhere, and it is like a thousand birds in my air, lyrics, thoughts half-flown, and coming down in the field around me hoping to make some sense as I walk through picking up sheaves.
See what I mean?
Oh look, a rock I found, on a walk in the sun yesterday. It looks like the ocean.
And poems too hot and fresh to have been trimmed yet, just because.
Unspilled
the dark green ink
it beckons
with a swirl in the bowl
but only in my mind’s eye
because the darkness
is beset upon the morning still
and the sunrise, when it comes
will be full of bustling
and the dark green ink
will have to wait again
in it’s bottle, unspilled
like my thoughts, unspilled
Thermal
I’m not the only one who used to
lie out in the snow as a child
after pulling some sled up the hill
and coming back down
leaning back and throwing out my arms
there in the cold and the snow
staring up at the big wide sky, feeling alone
and wondering how long it would take
to freeze to death
I know I’m not the only one who did this
how many do this more than once or twice...
And I think I do it in my life with other things
we lie for a time out in the cold
against all natural instincts, it would seem
until that thing within us clicks over, urging
that we get up, and seek our homes
whether they be of body, mind, or soul
that place our feathered things retreat to
to sit by the fire and revive
and then – we appreciate the warmth all the more
Tides
You’re such a good girl, she said
you never want anything
but oh, how I wanted things
sometimes so hard that they tasted like the blood
from biting my tongue
but they were not things I could ask for
few of them could ever fit in my hand
and always, always, they would be taken away
somehow or another, I learned early
that nothing is forever
everything is always changing
and those things I truly wanted seemed
just beyond my grasp – intangible
until I learned, through much effort
to hold them in my eyes, and my heart
to weave them into those inner webs
and labyrinths that defy space and time
..and then, the tides rose and carried me away
and I was the boat, and the waters, and the moon
Echoes
There are always echoes in here
words to string together, this way or that
all the things said, and unsaid
from this morning, from three years ago,
there is little rhyme or reason
I try to connect the dots,
draw stars and equations around them
not enough paper, not enough ink
not enough thread, to sew it together
I turn on music, to try to drown it out
hum along, sing familiar words
but other words, other times, other places
continue to vibrate
in the in-between places of Memory
where Time is not the rule
one box always opening twenty more
a million scattered keyholes
and so few keys
I try to pick them up like tiny beads
that get stuck under my fingernails
I try to line them up like thin steel pins
to stick them all in place, but into what?
They continue to tumble loose, and rattle
against this box that is my brain
Heart Take Wing
There is only so much
you can choose to say
the rest is up to the heart
may it take wing
and sing to you
Downpours
And when all your years
you believed that the overload
of your senses meant
that you could not handle it
that you must run from it
put on your flat mask
pretend it was not there
like trying to ignore the rain
you can do it – stand there drenched
and be miserable for all to see
run for shelter each time it starts
or you can dance in the downpour
look for the rainbows – prismatic glories
and feel your limbs swimming
watch the drops fall from your fingers
and trace the holes in space as it
bounces off of everyone’s umbrellas
built-in for them – but not for you
perhaps, you are a fish out of water
that swims in the air
and without such rainstorms
where you would be?
I am amazed, also, and grateful - my book has sold nearly two dozen copies in something like a week. Thank you. I hope you are enjoying it. Unspoken Things, Made Words poetry book by Marie Lamb
Friday, March 08, 2024
striped square and mouse
A magic square I saw in a Japanese handbag pattern and understood something from the symbols much better than I have from English-language instructions before.. first one to try, I've cut this one off and will try to make another one to match (the bag takes three)
Other things in the works : that alpaca scarf still needs one more long length of white yarn knitted on... the orange weaving is coming towards the end and after I cut it off and put the ends in I'll have to figure out what I want to do with it. I've started a third market bag, just because it is very easy to do those while watching movies, even in the dark, as long as the yarn isn't dark colored.
I made a mouse, or an opossum / flying squirrel thing. I don't know - I wasn't even trying to follow a pattern, just looking at a picture. It was supposed to be a cat, but it had it's own plans. A friend said it looks like a mouse that smashed it's face into a birthday cake, and that made me smile. Also, he could have had stuffing in him, he has a pocket but he's flat, and feels actually very nice to sit and hold and stretch him out like a flying squirrel in your hands.
Thursday, March 07, 2024
whereupon I turn myself into a crochet workshop
This is the second one of these I've made, a bit smaller than the one last year - and for me, not for 'the workshop'... but I've also made two pink market bags for the workshop drawer, a couple of washcloths, and a little sketchbook full of potential stuff I could make, but I'm not sure if I want to get into it that far type stuff.... And I've dedicated a drawer to 'stuff I'll make in case we go to sell at a market or bring things to the gallery', which used to be the entire six drawers were full of yarn, but I've been using some of it, and moving it around, and now there is enough space to start putting finished objects in it.
But at the same time, I don't want to do a lot of projects actually requested by other people - I'll sit up and chat with someone or watch a movie and make something, but my personality is often (not always) that if someone actually wants me to make something and I didn't come up with the idea, I'm not very likely to finish it. What makes me do that? Something about an overbearing parent, I think. Anyway, that was the big chat with my sister the other night - about how after she left to live at her father's house my mother had cranked down hard on me while at the same time she was losing her memory and always having health issues with her diabetes so I was straddling three worlds at one time - can't do anything she doesn't tell me to do, can't figure out what she needs, and figuring out what I actually need and where it falls outside of those two enough to become an adult. It was a hard talk - and I don't think my sister will get half of what I was trying to tell her or remember it..
but I finished nearly an entire bag while talking to her - because my hands needed to be busy. We had the talk because it was our mom's birthday, and my sister had posted some 'rose colored glasses' things, and I let them stand publicly but I had to have a 'this is the way it was for me' discussion with her that I usually let slide.. because no, it was not all rose colored glasses and unicorns when she was away, and even when I moved out and she moved back and left her kids with my mom often (and really, my mom was not entirely capable at that point, but she didn't seem to care and had her own issues going on too deep to fathom here) I still felt she should remember it right, even though it was tough, and not paste flowers all over it.
Esme and I took a nice nature walk / bike ride (she biked, I walked), and went and got some groceries and talked about up and down mix of all sorts of things including past present and future... she understands the 'its not all sugar coated' thing maybe too well for her years at times (sigh) I am going to make her a Mexican inspired taco meal after a bit. We bought mole sauce, and looked up how to pronounce it, what ingredients it is, what is usually eaten with... and then said eh, we'll make tacos and Spanish rice both how we know we like and then try some of the mole sauce on the side of the rice.
Languages : added Italian to my phone, tested into second section (better than I tested with Czech, not as good as the Spanish) even though I really don't know very much Italian and it is just as 'sticky' to my brain as Spanish is. (sticky is not good, sticky is I want to separate it from other words and I can't they come up all together four words for the same thing in four languages and it makes it easy to read but hard to speak) French and Spanish 'stick', Spanish and Italian 'stick'.. Czech and Russian stick but Russian has a different alphabet. When I try to remember how to say something in one of those languages and have been doing another sticky one - I can't decide which one to respond in, although I can read them just fine the road is not two-way. Went back on my other computer and continued in French and Russian and Czech and one lesson of Japanese to make sure I could still recognize stuff.
currently staring at a little Pinterest crochet cat thing and wondering if I could figure it out
Tuesday, March 05, 2024
old school social media and the production philosopher
a fasciated daffodil from my garden
My production philosopher or 'inner critic' is on to me about what to make with what time I have. This morning only makes it a bit more crystallized.
Well we just got back from a trip to the flea market and Facebook is down today and having quite the issue trying to get back up. I'm sitting here poking and saying well - what other internet things that I used to always use are still up? Etsy? Yes. Here? Yes. Duolingo? Yes. So, not the end of the digital world. Ha. Anyway. Although, there are some that I do consider friends out there that no, I really can't find a way to get in touch without social media because I don't even have their email or phone number and the few I have an address for (from sending them an art-or-craft, or exchanging seeds or etc.) a letter would take a very long time to get there. The digital world has changed the way we think about some things.
(note - 47 minutes acc. to the news it was down, and yes that was enough that I noticed the tail-end of it, and I was out and about doing things early this morning)
I look at the projects in progress in my workshop, and think about the heirloom farm and all of the things we cook and make, raise and grow... oh yes there is plenty to do around here. I don't always want to do it. Go do some laundry and some dishes, make some coffee and a pasta dish and let a dog in from the rain etc etc...
Like, also, I will draw a very nice picture of a toy I'd like to knit, with colors and details, but I very often will not do it. There was a time I would - but now I know my hands are going to take a very long time to make that thing that took two minutes to draw. I think about mittens - which I make for myself and use very much in the winter - even they could be easy to sell if I made them ahead of time and put them away, even if they were only 'my size'... and again, I know it takes a longer time to make and finish them and more attention to do it than it does to start it.
And then I wonder what use will come of it, or if I will be able to keep it in good condition until someone would want to buy it. And I think about tucking it away in tissue paper in a box and waiting for that day I would get to the gallery or a show or a flea market stand and try to sell it.. and it is like putting time (and money, investment in the yarn) in a bottle that I haven't spent that time yet (but stash yarn, maybe I did spend the money.. do I want to 'tie it up' in that?) and I don't know if I want to, just to put in the bottle -- compared to a washcloth or scarf or something simple, easy to pick up and put down, and I know I'll use it. I do have stash yarn - and I've been using mostly that the past few years, with a skein or two maybe of cotton bought for specific projects etc..
I've been trying to sort myself out on this. Time, money, purpose. The philosopher in me won't stop thinking and sometimes it gets in the way of the production, pondering too long on the whys and ifs and what. Can you also tell I was reading an article today on the 'Terrible knitters of Dent'? Those people learned to knit nearly all their waking hours, even one-handed while they were doing something else, in order to sell their socks, mittens and other things to other people. It sounds bleak, talented, interesting and fatiguee (tiring) all at the same time.
I also saw a lady who had kept a 'flax dowry' of 120 years, it had been her mother's and then passed on to her, and she had kept it all her life and not used it - and it was still good fiber being passed on to other people to finally make something of it. More for the philosopher in me to chew about industry, time and purpose.
At least, in a way, I carry my languages around with me as a treasure box that does not need to be kept in tissue paper. I'm thinking on some things I heard someone say at the flea market, as well, that I could not immediately translate. It's not something others would think twice about, and I forgot everything else that person was saying that was translatable like I would almost any other 'by the by' conversation that wasn't important .. but the non-translated phrases echoed for me to go look that up etc.
zucchini, kale, angel hair, parmesan seasoning mix from a bag, tomato, little bit of jalapeno jack cheese crumbled up
I guess I have a pasta dish to go and make. I was thinking angel hair pasta with some parmesan and black pepper and kale or zucchini from the freezer. I saw a picture (on a yarn site, actually HA) that had a plate of pasta with pesto in it for a description of a yarn color. And now, for some reason, I think 'hey, if I'm the only one eating that would be a nice quick little dish'.
Minion, our fifteen year old tortoiseshell cat