Two Tigers Creations

Art in the House

2012-03-02T15:13:00.000-05:00

Hearth with works by Brenda Sylvester, Fiona Dempster, Barry Smith, Unknown Vermont Marble Carver and Doug Hoover

One of the best things about living here in Vermont in such a spacious and nicely laid out apartment is that Brian and I can finally properly display some of the beautiful works that we have acquired over the past couple of years thanks to friendships with fellow artists, many of them met right here on Blogger. All arrived as gifts or exchanges and form the core of what I hope will be a growing collection of original art, one we could not otherwise afford.

Gabriella’s studio with view of works by Fiona D and Doug H

I have always felt that the décor of a living space is a direct reflection and extension of the occupants. Even during lean times when I have not been able to fill my home with the furnishings and decorative touches of my dreams, that very shabbiness had something to say about who I was, how I lived, and what my priorities were. I suppose this is a variation on the belief that you can tell someone by the company they keep. This week instead of me telling you something about myself, I thought I’d share some images of some of my new daily companions (who are all actually old friends) and let them do the talking.

Closeup of “Flight” by Fiona D above and “Soaking it In” by Doug H below

Gabriella’s studio with view of work by Momo Luna

Mantle with view of works by Manon Doyle and more Momo Luna in the distance

“Island. Light. Night.” Doug Hoover again, this time in the living room - he's everywhere!

Purple couch with photograph by Crissant – we promise to frame and hang this soon!

Bowl by Barry Smith

In the bedroom: Unnamed (although the title “Smidge” has been considered) by Saba Tekle

To anyone out there whose work I omitted – my apologies. To anyone out there who would like to help increase the Mirollo Sylvester Collection, we love a good barter! May you all have a happy weekend.

Happy campers

Windows

2012-02-25T13:59:00.001-05:00

Come Closer

I’ve been noticing a lot of “Small Works” exhibits lately. For every artist that seeks to astonish and captivate with vast canvases, spectacles or installations, there are those who prefer to work small. Taking the adage that good things come in small packages, they dare their audience to take the time to look a little more carefully at what they have to offer. I have several friends in Blogland (you know who you are!) who continue to create amazing little windows onto rich and limitless landscapes of imagination and soul. Slow down, come closer, make the effort, they seem to say, and you will be rewarded.

Point of View

So much depends on point of view. That being deprived of natural light can undermine your mental and physical health is no longer a myth but proven fact. In every workplace I have ever occupied, workers were obsessed with the proximity of windows to their desks, the person with the cubicle nearest to windows receiving regular co-worker visits with the most flimsy of excuses. I’ve worked in offices with no windows from which one had to telephone the front desk in the lobby to find out what the weather was or if the world had ended. In winter one arrived and left in darkness – sunlight was a weekend luxury. I’ve also worked in offices in architecturally superior buildings with whole walls made of windows overlooking lawns and flowering trees. Every movement of the sun, up, down, or briefly behind a cloud was known to the entire staff, from the department head to the janitor.

Childhood View

I’ve had good, bad and better luck with my home situation. I grew up in a Manhattan apartment with a Western exposure, providing a living room flooded with indirect morning and full afternoon sunlight, and spectacular views through French door style windows of sunsets over the Hudson River. The other 80% of the apartment, which extended back into an area in which the backs of adjacent buildings all backed into each other, was in perpetual darkness and lovingly referred to as The Cave. My bedroom had a view of brick walls and the curtained windows of other apartment dwellers. After a few more cave dwellings, eventually I landed in a one room apartment with two street facing windows that gave me more information about the sleeplessness of city life than I required, but also gave me a young tree which over the years grew to reach my second floor vantage point. I even wrote a poem about how it helped me mark time with its changing seasonal displays – and ultimately the gap left behind when they chopped it down one day.

New Friend

It took nearly a decade in yet another cave dwelling to find myself living in a home with so many windows and so much light that even the cat can’t decide which sunlit spot to sleep in or which view to gaze at, so spoiled for choice. The science was right after all – sunlight does improve your health, mental and physical. Starting your day looking out onto a whole world also beginning its day, from the clouds gathering on the mountain to discuss the day’s patterns, to the birds arranging their feathers and clearing their throats to sing, to the folks on the early shift making their way to work, is a good thing. It’s one of those little things you could take for granted because you are distracted by what you consider to be bigger more important things. But there is nothing more important than my morning view, because also outside my window is a small young tree I hope to mark time with and watch grow over many years.

Small Works

I am so in love with this tree that when I came home a little tipsy the other night I laid my hand on it in proper greeting after watching it all these weeks from above, said thank you, and asked it for a gift. In keeping with the philosophy of small things, it did not yield a large branch but the diminutive twig you see enshrined above - brittle and bare but already putting out buds in anticipation of spring. I’m going to keep this token as a reminder to be grateful for and mindful of little things. What little things have you perhaps overlooked lately? A hot shower on a wintry weekend morning followed by eggs fried in butter and an armchair with a book nearby waiting for you to resume reading? An unexpected message from an old friend you had forgotten, or a new one you didn’t know you had? Fresh air? Clean sheets? The sound of children laughing? Your dog or cat running across the room like a mad thing just because it can? Take a moment today to put whatever it is that is demanding your full attention down and look out a window. Look out every window. Think of it as your own private Small Works show.

Lookout

And speaking of overlooked things…my apologies to all my Blogfriends whose posts I’ve allowed to accumulate this past week without my giving them the attention they are due. This weekend I promise I will stop gazing through my own windows long enough to gaze through YOURS.

P.S. - I have just reconsidered omitting the tree poem I mentioned above, so here it is, pulled right out of a very bleak time and mindset in 1998, reminder that since then my point of view has changed in more ways than one!

Prospect

This morning I awoke to find

that overnight my view had changed.

Oh that a change of heart or mind

could be so easily arranged!

Unseen hands had found and felled

the tree by which I tell the seasons.

Being the kind always compelled

to ask, I heard they had good reasons.

Buds, birds, leaves, snow

had visited its heights outspread

just as high as my studio.

How could I know it was already dead?

Now I see quite clear across

to the other side of the boulevard

another tree, a future loss,

assured and beautiful and hard.

So blow wind, strip, dismember

this life stubborn enough to be

sprouting green in late November

encouraging all the fools who see!

Rip it out by the roots, let

them fill whatever empty space

remains with something quick to set

and plant no new thing in its place.

Best Foot Forward

2012-02-15T13:20:00.000-05:00

Best Foot Forward

Yesterday, thanks to the mildest winter I have ever known, Brian and I were able to enjoy some mid-February hiking in Manchester VT, without being bundled up in multiple layers of clothing allowing only small openings for seeing and breathing and shod in pace-slowing monster boots or snowshoes. We wore light jackets and trail shoes and probably could have gone barefoot without much discomfort. That said, not being familiar with this particular system of trails and not at all good at reading topographical maps, I managed to select one of the most difficult ones, second only to a complete 2840 foot high, 3 mile long ascent of Mount Equinox. Okay, so I still have a lot to learn about the rugged country life! In fact, my following of trails was reminiscent of my approach to urban rail systems, easy to master as long as you know the color of the line that will get you where you want to go and stick with it. My reading of the trail map told me that Blue Summit Trail would proceed up the mountain until it joined up with Red Gate Trail and then provided first the choice of the aqua-colored Trillium Trail, rated as an intermediate trail, and later, the orange Maidenhair Trail, which ran more or less parallel in a level fashion, and had a pretty name, so, could not be much harder, right?

Map Reading

This all looks easy enough on the page, especially if you ignore those faint radiating lines that indicate elevation. Not far along the blue trail I realized exactly how vertical it was. This was the trail leading to the summit. I had hoped Blue and I would part ways long before the true uphill climb began, but Blue had other plans. I plodded on, however, secure in the knowledge that the less vertically demanding Aqua would soon rescue me. But Aqua never showed up, and I soon found myself out of breath at a crossroads where the only choices were more Blue – which would have killed me outright – or the lesser-of-two-evils Orange, which already looked like it meant me no good either.

Nowhere to Run

At this point, I’m sure Brian was wondering why he let me take the lead. Leadership has its disadvantages in that yours is the choice when how and where to forge ahead, taking full responsibility for the experience of your followers. The one advantage is that you are free to sputter and curse and whinge freely to the air in front of you and feel confident that anyone a few feet behind you or more will only catch part of this ongoing aria of ascending suffering. At one point I exclaimed to a tree: this trail is everything I didn’t want to do today! If the tree had a refined sense of irony and appreciation for metaphor, it wasn’t telling. More likely it has been witness to so many such scenes it wished it could uproot itself and run away.

Try Not to Fall

Meantime, I remained so focused on staying on my marked path and oblivious to good map reading, that when I reached a junction of what I thought would be Orange and Some Other Color leading back around in a loop more or less to where we started, I was in for a surprise. Some Other Color didn’t even bother to announce itself with recognizable sequential blazes on trailside trees, but it didn’t need to, as its most salient features were unmistakable – a sheer descent downward through rocks and roots, in distance perhaps half of our earlier vertical ascent, with equal elevation change. There really was no way to go off this trail – any misstep would probably propel you along via gravitational pull. Perhaps that was how the path was carved out in the first place. Perhaps that is why no one ever stopped long enough to paint a directional mark on a tree. There was just one direction : down, and one optimal strategy for hiking: try not to fall.

Retraced Steps

This afforded me opportunity to gather my breath and a few more metaphors before proceeding. Here I was having begun the day properly attired and lightly packed with bottled water, a granola bar, good intentions and only a few high hopes, only to be met with obstacles perhaps not entirely of my own making, but definitely avoidable had I made a greater effort to foresee them, nevertheless surmounted in good faith. As with so many journeys that don’t go exactly as planned, it remained only for me to stop worrying about how it went wrong and do the only thing left in my power to do – finish it right. So, I took one last vertiginous look at the trail known only as Some Other Color, turned back around on the familiar Orange trail, retraced my steps, attempting not to stumble on the same rocks or slip on the same icy patches as I did the first time, rejoined Blue, and made it back to the trailhead and the parking lot to our waiting car which never looked so welcoming.

Back the Way you Came

In long distance foot races, courses fall into three categories – point-to-point, loop, and out-and-back. There is something to be said for getting to a destination entirely different from where you started. There are also benefits to going around in a circle back to where you began, but having covered ground and experienced new things along every step of the way. Reaching a point of no further progress, turning around, and going back the same way you came may not seem as interesting or as glorious, in fact might appear to some as a defeat. But I can tell you from experience, things do not look or feel the same going back on the road you came forward on. The road has changed you; you have changed the road. As long as you put your best foot forward, nothing will ever be the same again.

I Feel a Poem Coming On

2012-02-07T13:07:00.000-05:00

Remembering

For reasons I only partly understand, and am not entirely in a state of regret regarding, I don’t do much poetry anymore. It is a way of remembering that has always taken a lot more out of me than simply being in the right mindset and place at the right time to snap a photo and then let the picture tell the story. But every once in a while a set of circumstances presents itself that makes the writing of a poem unavoidable, like death and taxes, except hopefully with a happier outcome.

Raw Materials

Last week, Australian blogfriends Barry and Fiona (whose prompt accounts you can read here and here, along with Brian’s here) took a break from their New York City holiday to visit us in Vermont. It was a thoroughly enjoyable and enriching 38 hours that left me wanting more but at the same time grateful for even this tasty morsel of an opportunity to connect with two creative spirits both witty and wise. I found myself wanting to do justice to the strangely concentrated depth and breadth of this visit in words, (and what better way than poetry?) thereby typically setting myself an impossible task.

Park and Mark

Fortunately, I am not too proud to concede that the poem below tis but a scratch on the surface of the emotions and inspiration left in the wake of this brief encounter and offer it as my friends fly back home and I gaze out my windows at views made better by their having shared them. Thank you, B & F.

Give and Take

Some things take time

like gray clouds that prove doors to blue skies

on the one side of horizon unaccounted for

or overnight snow that lifts hearts

and lowers voices.

Art takes time.

We try to name the things we make

when it’s the naming makes us.

The best answer is a question

black on snow-white stone.

Some things make time

like distant music played

on strong ties stretched between two faraways

that sounds the same when suddenly

effortlessly near.

Love makes time.

When I was young nothing

had room to grow so none was taken.

Now the world and I are older and wide open.

I feel a poem coming on.

Written in Stone

Unlikely Subjects

2012-01-31T13:40:00.000-05:00

Made in Vermont

At long last, after a protracted tragic-comedy of errors (most of them admittedly mine), here are a few images from my much discussed and anticipated first roll of film as a Vermont artist that took weeks to shoot, and then more weeks to get processed thanks to the scarcity of Vermont resident machines that can still handle traditional black and white film.

Forgotten

Sometimes, I outwit myself. The trouble with looking ahead and making detailed plans and preparations is that the resulting lists and notes are only as good as the mind that remembers to consult them after the fact. Which is to say, months ago, when I still lived in Somerville, I had a cordial and informative email correspondence with the manager of the photography shop in my new Rutland neighborhood, in which he confirmed exactly what kind of film they could and could not process. I even bought some of the right stuff and set the wrong stuff aside. Of course, I forgot this correspondence when I loaded the wrong stuff into my empty camera on arrival, and then I forgot it all over again when I smilingly handed over to the man (whose identity I failed to recognize) this unprocessable roll of film, thus suffering the twin disappointment of knowing 38 beautiful images were now imprisoned in a tiny canister indefinitely and that the person who shot them is an idiot.

Release

One week later, Brian and I went to Bennington and entrusted the miniature prison to the one shop that could release its captives. The shop is over an hour away by car, but they, not surprisingly, do a brisk affordable mail order business. Today the mailman handed me an envelope containing my processed negatives, and all’s well that ends well. Unless there’s something else I’m forgetting.

Show Don’t Tell

Last time I wrote about photography in this space, I subjected my readers to a self-indulgent self-interrogation as to what kind of photographer I was, am and will become. In honor of the eternally beneficial injunction “show, don’t tell” here are some of the images that caught my eye in my first weeks living in Vermont surrounded by so much natural beauty I felt so unequal and unwilling to photograph. I think I now have my final answer to cocktail party questions of kind. I am the kind of photographer who prefers unlikely subjects.

Room at the Top

But more importantly - how did January end already? Wishing you all the best for a happy healthy February - and beyond! I truly appreciate your kind words and continued support.

Not Just Another Pretty Face

2012-01-21T10:09:00.000-05:00

Driveway in Snow

Here on a perfectly tranquil snowy Saturday morning in Vermont, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I have come to be surrounded by endless unparalleled beauty I have no natural desire whatsoever to photograph, about what kind of photographer I am. One thing is certain, if I’m spending more time holding inner debates than holding a camera, something’s wrong. Maybe I should start with trying to pin down first what kind of a photographer I was. At the very least this might provide me with a brief simple impressive statement I can try out at my next social opportunity, in place of the vague embarrassed ramble now in use when such questions arise, the one that begins with how I mostly shoot black and white film and then runs through everything I don’t do until I start gazing down into my drink hoping I will be alone when next I raise my eyes.

The Library Next Door in Snow

Shooting black and white film isn’t really a good answer to questions of kind. It reminds me of my similarly inadequate response in the days when I introduced myself as a poet. Then I would lead with how I write mostly in formal verse, and by the time the words “personal experiences” and “intimate moments” were halfway between imagining and utterance, the topic had mercifully been changed. It turns out that being a formalist in writing is even more of a buzzkill than being a traditionalist in photography, and that people mostly don’t care about technique, format or materials, they want to know about subject, which becomes problematic when your work isn’t about what you capture but how. And when, I would like to know, did every artist in every medium have to be working on a specific project with a subject, theme and purpose that can be described in two sentences or less? Not that there is anything wrong with that. One of my favorite photographers, Todd Hido has created an impressive body of work shooting nothing but houses at night. Check out his site if you can. They are not only beautiful but remarkably unique and moving images. I admire his work; I envy his ability to present it in a phrase that takes less energy and thought than nibbling a small but satisfying canapé. To be fair, I’ve heard him speak at great length, brilliantly, so I know there is far more to his philosophy and process than the phrase “houses at night.” He is that rare exception of an artist who begins with a specific set agenda and also manages to maintain complete uncompromised freedom and joy in his work. This is the kind of photographer I am not.

Tree in Snow

With very few exceptions, I don’t do portraits or set pieces of any kind, in which the photograph is both conceptually and physically arranged first, captured next. I don’t even like to leave my house, camera in hand, thinking “today I will shoot trees in snow.” I will take this aversion to its extreme by purposely leaving my camera at home if I know I will be in particularly picturesque surroundings. It all feels too staged, too forced. My muse and I have connections that resemble occasional chance encounters in dark alleyways, not romantic rambles through postcard-perfect landscapes. Any hint of the urgent, obvious or controlled and my cynical muse won’t return my calls for months. I’ve become a kind of hostage to spontaneity. Maybe that’s the kind of photographer I am.

Space Heater

When you grow up in a crowded lonely sparkling dirty depressing exciting city like New York, you develop a very complex and often contradictory aesthetic sense. When everything is too big and too much, you turn your attention to small things, be they objects, spaces, moments. You start looking for the beauty amidst the ugliness, light in the darkness, humanity in the inanimate. Most of my poetry came from this source, a need and a desire to isolate and capture something small, individual and beautiful, not just to share it, but to preserve and protect it. You could say I was an urban poet, even though a lot of my poems had nothing to do with city settings or characters. But even my poems about natural landscapes are clearly written from the perspective of a city girl. I wouldn’t love the country the way I do, if I had not been raised in the city.

Cars in Snow

It’s not surprising that when I first started to take taking photographs seriously, I would produce the visual equivalent of my poetry, preferring the less obvious subjects, and letting them find me rather than seeking them out. I would purposely avoid the kinds of shots I knew anyone with a camera could take. I chose black and white so as not to be dazzled by color, to force myself to seek something in the image that was not visible to the naked eye. When others looked skyward to an imposing building on a cloudless day, I would crouch and photograph a crack in the sidewalk. When others captured the faces and activities of Manhattanites in all their wonderful strange variety, I would be drawn to their shadows, or the empty spaces they had just occupied. To me, city life was more about what was happening in the corners, in the absences, in the places everyone else passes by.

Rooftops in Snow

Which brings me to Vermont, one of the most beautiful places on earth. Perhaps too much so. I am so accustomed to being on the alert for beauty in the least obvious places, I don’t know what to do with it when it is everywhere I look. Or I do know what to do – experience it, enjoy it. Taking a photograph seems utterly unnecessary as there is nothing I can do to bring out something beyond what is already there. In my recent visits to galleries, it does seem that most Vermont artists take inspiration from these stunning surroundings, but perhaps take it a little too literally. Landscapes and animal portraits abound. They are beautiful, yes, but also, for me at least, mostly unmoving. I still believe that even with the most beautiful of subjects, artists ought to transform or present their subjects in such a way as to transcend life, otherwise, why art? So the question remains, for photography perhaps more than painting, how do you take that sort of camera-ready material and make it your own, make it unique, make it say something someone will slow down to hear? One recent exception was an amazing photographer whose work I saw in his own gallery in Weston and then later at a group show in which his work stood out in a room full of others’ photography. Wayne Nobushi Fuji is indeed the kind of photographer who shoots trees in snow, but what he then does with the images is a marvelous marriage of Eastern and Western aesthetics, creating triptychs from a single shot image and printing them himself in limited editions on special paper, adding that original one-of-a-kind value often lacking in endlessly reproducible photography, which is one of the reasons I am not reproducing any of his images here. The sequence, sizing and subject of his work are meant to imitate both the form and theme of traditional haiku verse, but also remind me of an altarpiece. The piece I saw was hanging right next to an uncurtained window with a magnificent view of snow covered mountains bristling with trees, but I could not take my eyes off his work.

The Great Divide

I never imagined that in a place like this, it would take almost two months to shoot one roll of film, which is now sitting in its canister on my desk waiting to be taken to a faraway film processing store that can still process traditional black and white film. The images sprinkled throughout this post were of necessity all taken this morning with my digital camera from indoors through screened windows, providing an unintended but apt visual obbligato to my ongoing inner debate. It took so long to complete one roll of film, the results of which will appear here in possibly a week or two depending on how long my faraway film shop will take to develop it, because everywhere I look I pause and think “this is not the kind of photograph I want to take. This is not the kind of photographer I am.” Every image required my full unqualified commitment to my subject, and those moments were few and far between. The fact that these images took time to capture and will now take time to release from their tiny prison, that they are there as I saw them, but may as well not exist until developed, is part of the wonderful mysterious fragility that keeps me using film. While I’m waiting, my challenge will be to shoot more film until I somehow bring together my urban sensibility and this natural landscape, and like Nobushi and Hido create something that is greater than the sum of its parts. For now, the parts remain on either side of a great divide, and I know better than to force a meeting. Next time someone asks me what kind of work I do, I’ll have my own short phrase ready -- “I don’t know yet.”

Happy weekend and many thanks to all my followers, especially Number 100!

Win Some Lose Some

2012-01-11T13:35:00.000-05:00

Turning Over a New Leaf

Last month, Vermont College of Fine Arts, whose praises I have many times sung in this space, sent out a call to alumni for artwork to use on an invitation to their annual Spring Open House to be held March 31^st 2012. Having always felt a reverent and grateful connection to the amazing life-altering and life-affirming capacity of this institution, I promptly sent them the image above for consideration. You may remember it from my September 20, 2010 post by the same name. I’ve come a long way since then!

From an Email Dated December 23rd

Just before the holidays, the announcement went out that my photograph had won the contest! This was probably one of the best Christmas gifts I have ever received, and especially significant coming within weeks of my relocation to Vermont. Way back in 2010, when I was still in the first uncertain months of establishing myself as a working artist, Vermont College chose the Two Tigers photograph that now serves as the logo for all my creative endeavors to grace the cover of their Winter Newsletter. At the time, it felt like a pat on the back from an old friend, a sure sign to proceed with confidence on my chosen albeit challenging path. And now at another critical juncture in my journey, I feel that friendly encouragement yet again.

All Journeys Lead Homewards

It seems ironic, to say the least, that my reward for winning the contest (as if having my image used in this way was not reward enough!) was the lovely duffle bag pictured above, available for purchase in the VCFA Store, and not likely to get much use now that I am living in a place I never want to leave, even for a weekend! But when I do use it, I will remember when I was a student, traveling to Montpelier twice a year to experience what VCFA had to offer. It will be a tangible way of taking Vermont with me wherever I go, even as the Green Mountain State and my experience at VCFA continue to enrich and expand my life in intangible, unexpected but utterly timely and apt ways. It means more to me than I can express that they chose to use my work to represent their message and mission as they reach out to prospective students. To the College I say thanks. To future students I say – prepare to be changed.

From a Letter Dated January 7, 2012

You may have noticed that the title of this post is “Win Some Lose Some.” I wish the second half of that phrase described ten pounds miraculously shed from my body since last I wrote, but, alas, it refers to the contents of the letter pictured above. Days before the end of 2011, I dropped off a submission of six of my favorite, and, arguably, best black and white images for consideration to be chosen and exhibited as one of five women artists featured at the Chaffee Art Center’s Women in the Arts festival being held next month. I spent an entire day agonizing over which images to select, in such a way that they would constitute a coherent and compelling body of work, which is not a bad exercise to put yourself through from time to time, regardless of outcome. It would have been a lovely way to begin the new year, with a semi-solo show mere blocks from my new home. On a lighter note, anyone who has received their share and more of rejection letters will appreciate how quickly my eyes ran right past the “thank you” to the “but.” I think I saw it before the letter was out of its envelope! Not to worry, I already have other projects and opportunities ahead, not to mention lots of film waiting to be put to use towards expanding a collection of work worthy of submission and exhibition, so I am looking ahead to that instead of wondering whether I would do better as a Vermont artist if I did more landscapes.

No More Landscapes

Just kidding about no more landscapes. It's hard to resist them around here! Until next week, best wishes and thanks to all my followers, near and far, old and new. You truly keep me going!

On the Edge

2012-01-07T14:18:00.000-05:00

Cutting Edge

I've been here in Rutland VT for almost six weeks now and can no longer claim that I am "settling in." I am in. For what promises to be a good long time. Brian and I have been working tirelessly both to establish a functioning household and to find our place in the thriving arts community of this area. We are also facing the reality of one or both of us returning to some kind of traditional paid work that will allow us to remain working artists while also remaining housed and fed. No one said a life in the arts was going to be easy, and we are both absolutely committed to making whatever sacrifices are necessary, while still keeping the creative fires burning. Which explains why the photographs I've managed to find opportunity to take are still sitting inside my camera, and the image above dates back to last summer!

Purple Llama

http://www.etsy.com/listing/89904286/not-an-alpaca-scarf-purple-llama

This week I did find time to finish a new scarf that I began before the holidays and had to set aside unfinished. As you might imagine, one of the first places I visited when I arrived here was the local yarn shop, Green Mountain Fibers. I arrived with my usual alpaca-centric agenda, and was disappointed to find that they did not stock some of my favorite brands, to which I have become accustomed. They did however have some beautiful fiber that was one hundred percent baby llama. Fiber shops encourage their customers to use their hands as well as their eyes to make their selections, and with one touch of this stuff, I knew I had to have some. With no idea of what design or item I would be creating, I bought five skeins in the colors you see above, started at the beginning, and let my instincts carry me through. I have always thought of llamas as the more mean-spirited cousins of my beloved alpacas, and assumed their fiber would be just as abrasive as their personalities, but apparently if you get them while they are young, their fiber is just as soft and luxurious. I'm looking forward to adding this new fiber to my repertoire of favorite materials!

Gradual Clearing

Which just goes to show you that sometimes you are looking for one thing, and something else presents itself, and you end up with the right thing after all. I have plenty of ideas about the directions my life will next take, but I am well aware that life has its own plans, and I must remain open to suggestion and opportunity even as I prepare for what I think should happen next. This has been a brief post, but I hope to have a longer one for you next week. I am definitely on the edge of something big, and as soon as I know what it is, I will let you all know! Maybe I will even finish the roll of film now languishing in my camera and have some new images to offer, other than the ones I have been taking through my living room window. Until then, I hope that every one of you is having an auspicious start to the new year. Or at least a great weekend!

All's Well That Ends Well

2011-12-28T13:57:00.000-05:00

My Mind Today

As open as I try to be to new things and happy accidents, I have always been and will likely remain a creature of habit, slave to symbolic gestures and rituals. As one year ends and a new one is soon to begin, in spite of many other obligations and distractions that demand my attention, today my mind can’t help but dwell on how the past twelve months brought me to where I now am, gazing out a large window as snow falls on an empty street in a small city in Vermont. This time last year, my former city of residence Somerville was buried under 18 inches of snow. As the city was digging itself out, I was writing a blog post in review of what had proven to be a year of courage and defeat, challenge and reward, and resolving that, as far as I had come in the process of digging myself out from under my own metaphoric frozen burden in 2010, in every aspect of my life, 2011 would be even better. 2011 was indeed better, a long journey on roads not always clear or smooth but somehow bringing me to exactly where I needed to be. In spite of numerous obstacles, both internal and external, I saw both my photographic and crocheted work displayed, admired and even acquired. I saw the musings I was so bold as to commit in writing to this public space not only find a loyal readership, but at times inspire great sympathy and support, connecting me with beautiful minds and spirits in faroff places. Meantime, I had the continued sustaining love of my nearest and dearest friends and family. I am happy and grateful beyond measure that my words found a home in your hearts, and that my work found its way into your homes. And here I am at year’s end in an entirely new place that was waiting to embrace me with a greater sense of inner peace and belonging than I have felt in too many years, sensing even better things to come. I have no specific plans as yet for 2012, except to say that there are already signs it will be full of opportunities for unprecedented personal and professional fulfillment, which I hope to begin sharing with you as early as next week! Until then, especially to those of you who had some hard times in 2011, I wish you and yours health and happiness in 2012. The best is yet to come.

All's Well that Ends Well

Back to Work

2011-12-16T09:40:00.000-05:00

Back to Work

It’s been almost three weeks since I moved to Vermont, and I am happy to report that almost all boxes have been emptied, flattened and delivered to the town dump, every room is about as furnished and decorated as it can or will be given our limited resources of time money and energy, and we have even managed to take a few little trips to picturesque nearby towns, Manchester being one of them, and the subject of Brian’s most recent post which you can find here. In Manchester, on Mount Equinox, I shot some film for the first time in far too long, which I will be handing over to my new camera shop soon, and if all goes well, will allow me to share some real photographs with you next week.

Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt

Until now I have been relying on my digital camera to capture certain aspects of my new life here, and anyone who reads this blog regularly knows how I feel about the differences between digital and film shooting! Still, if I go too long without some sort of camera in my hands, I suffer a form of artistic withdrawal that makes me bad company indeed, especially to myself. Above is the morning view from my kitchen window. Below is the morning view from my bedroom window after a few inches of snow that fell overnight last week but has since melted.

View from Above

And below is what the parking lot for our building looked like later that morning after our neighbors had left for work.

Snow Parking

Speaking of work, I have finally organized my studio/study to the point where I can locate all my materials as needed, leaving me no choice but to get back to actually creating things. What these things will be, I can’t yet be sure, but just to feel the sensation of not doing something related to household affairs, I began designing and crocheting some new wrist warmers yesterday. It was the first time I have felt as if I were actually living here, and not just "settling in," and I hope to have many more such days ahead.

Wrist Warmer : Lilac, Melon, Snow and Plum

Here is a sneak peak of the two new pairs of wrist warmers I will be posting to my Etsy site tomorrow, just in time for all you late or last minute holiday shoppers. There is still time to order something and receive it by Christmas!

Wrist Warmer: Green Mountains on a Sunny Day

I’ll also be sending out my End of Year Newsletter soon, so if you aren’t already signed up, please do. In conclusion, I'd like to acknowledge and thank you all for your kindness and patience during this busy time, and especially for so many warm birthday wishes following last week’s post. Because of you, even in a new home and town, I feel I am always in the company of good friends.

Ten of Nine

2011-12-07T08:50:00.023-05:00

Unbroken

I keep telling people that here in my new Vermont home the vast stillness is unbroken except for the occasional sound of distant church bells and passing trains. That is not precisely true. Rutland City does have one big noise to offer those who can’t stand too much peace and quiet: the Ten of Nine Whistle.

Horn of Plenty

The Ten of Nine Whistle is actually a large airhorn that sits atop the fire station in the center of Rutland, and diagonally opposite the house I now occupy. The horn has a rich history, and a loud voice, and to love both is to be a true Rutlander. In fact, whenever anyone has attempted to silence the Ten of Nine, it comes back even stronger, always an appealing and admirable trait.

Downtown Rutland in 1907

Back in the old days, the horn was primarily used to summon firefighters. Like most emergency alert systems, it required testing, sometimes daily, and always at the same hour to distinguish it from a real alarm. Rutland later began to sound the horn at 8:50 every night, as a warning to teenagers that the 9pm curfew was imminent and they had ten minutes to get off the streets. That curfew was short-lived, but the 8:50 sounding of the horn persisted. In recent years, from what I can learn online and in talking to locals, thanks to various changes in government, the horn was first allowed to fall into disuse, then reinstated, then put on a reduced schedule, then not only restored to its regular nightly blast, but given the added duty and distinction of sounding at 8:50 every morning as well.

Close Call

A few years ago, they even put the issue to a vote and Rutlanders overwhelmingly supported the maintaining of this twice daily schedule. Living so close to this undeniable piece of history capable of rattling windows and knocking you out of your shoes if you aren’t expecting it, and most nearly resembling the sound of the Queen Mary entering port, I fully understand those in the minority who cast dissenting votes, but given the chance, I know that I too would have voted in favor of the horn. It begins the day in a tone that is proud, clear and bold, letting all good citizens know that we have made it through the night and all is well. And after an honest day’s work and a hot meal and everyone safely in their homes, it seems to say “the day is done, good job, it’s alright to rest now.”

Ten of Nine

But here is why I really love this horn. Today is my birthday. On December 7^th 1962, at 8:50 in the morning, I was born. Ask not for whom the horn sounds – today, it sounds for me.

Home

2011-12-02T09:18:00.000-05:00

Readers, I’m home.

Or, more accurately, I have arrived in a space that, given a lot more time and effort, will look a lot less like a storage facility, and a lot more like the place in which I intend to live life to the fullest for many long awaited and much deserved years. Brian and I have been Vermont residents for four days, though we both have had experience in the past living in this beautiful state.

On Monday November 28^th, our possessions were safely and soundly transported by the small but amazingly efficient crew from the Stair Hoppers moving company, and I retain their five page inventory of 125 items as proof of the magnitude of this undertaking. Unfortunately, most of that number consisted of boxes that needed first to be sorted and carried into their proper rooms, and then unpacked.

I’m happy to report that as of this writing, all furniture has been arranged into a functioning configuration, all boxes are where they need to be, and some of them have even been opened! We have already stimulated the local Vermont economy by purchasing some household items. We have had our first of what will probably be many pizzas from Ramunto’s and we have visited the Chaffee Art Center where we were pleased to see all three of each of our submitted works hanging in prominent locations in the gallery.

There is still much work to be done in the apartment and beyond, everything from the basic task of emptying boxes to exploring our new community and meeting new neighbors. Tonight, in Depot Park, the city holds its annual tree lighting and visit from Santa. Tomorrow, I plan on visiting the indoor Farmer’s Market held inside the Rutland Food Coop. This area has a very strong commitment to sustainable agriculture and green living, and I am looking forward to supporting local farmers whenever possible, which won’t be difficult, especially when it comes to Vermont cheese!

Finally I wanted to leave you with some images of the member of the family who seems most pleased with her new home. Little P has been roaming freely from room to room happily sprawling on and rubbing against everything in her path. Who said cats hate change?

Enjoy your weekends, one and all, and see you next week with more happy news!

Small Business Saturday

2011-11-24T11:54:00.000-05:00

Here in the United States, we have a late November tradition called Black Friday, on which any shred of good will and tranquility imparted by what was once called Thanksgiving and has now apparently been renamed Pre-Black Friday, vanishes in a cloud of panic and greed as shoppers with less and less money attempt to take advantage of more and more tempting sales and bargains offered by stores that now open their doors Thursday night before your turkey dinner has even made it far enough down your digestive track to require unbuttoning your pants.

Introducing Small Business Saturday. I’ve been seeing a lot of television commercials in recent weeks about an attempt to reclaim the holiday weekend with a shopping experience that does not involve trampling your fellow man in the aisles of a megastore. I’m pretty sure there is some sort of dishonorable agenda or soulless corporate entity behind it trying to profit from a seemingly good deed, but the message is a good one, and if it works, it will also benefit small business owners, so I am happy to support it. Plus, the logo was free to download.

So, I urge you this weekend to shop local, shop small, and avoid any vendor attempting to interrupt your dessert, or spoil your sleeping late the day after a feasting holiday with family you only see once or twice a year, with the lure of a flat screen television reduced to one tenth its original price, and probably marked up a few thousand percent the week before. Spread the word, this weekend, and beyond, and maybe we can send a message that individual craftsmanship and shops whose proprietors actually have faces and live in your neighborhood are what a good American product and a strong American economy are all about. And yes, buying something from your favorite starving artist counts as supporting small business!

Happy Holiday, all. Next time you hear from me I will be living in Vermont!

Here to There

2011-11-16T10:47:00.000-05:00

You CAN Get There from Here

As followers of this space know, I am in the midst of a move from a place I’ve occupied for almost ten years to a new place in a part of the country that has always felt like home. This might be why I have been very busy these past few weeks, but not at all nervous or sad regarding this relocation. I’m going somewhere I have always loved and leaving behind somewhere I have never quite felt a sense of belonging. If I shed any tears on moving day, they will be tears of joy that something I have always hoped would happen is finally coming to pass.

Through a Glass Darkly

Brian and I have made three trips up north in the past six weeks, each with its own agenda and outcome. Back at the beginning of October, a weekend originally planned for leisure became our first opportunity to view a potential new home in Vermont. That opportunity fell through, but thanks to some timely conversations with friendly Vermonters met as we explored the local night life, soon after our return we learned about a new property in a different city and were making plans for another visit.

Unexpected Opening

In mid October we drove to Rutland one morning, viewed what would prove to be our new home and by sundown were back in Somerville waiting to hear whether our application had been approved. It was, and ten days later we were driving north again to sign a lease.

Can’t See the Forest for the Trees

It was then that I allowed myself to see the apartment with eyes not protected by cautious doubt and fully embrace the reality that I would be living in Vermont, a place I had spent much time in, but never as a longtime resident. Last weekend we drove up to Rutland one more time to drop off some possessions we did not want to leave for the movers to handle and also to drop off some pieces at the Chaffee Art Center where we will both have work exhibited in their annual members show opening this week. I no longer felt like a visitor in town, but a native. I bought myself a new winter coat which will be the perfect attire for Vermont winter. As we drove back, and again passed by the herd of Jacob sheep that has been grazing alongside Route 4 as long as I can remember, I told myself that the next time we make the trip north it would be a one-way journey, bound for home.

Herd Mentality

As of this writing there are only 12 days left before the apartment I am now occupying is emptied and Brian, I and Little P head home. But before I can get there from here, I have to get everything boxed up and ready to go. Hard work yes, but happy.

Stacks

Until next week, I wish you all hard work and happiness.

The Long Farewell

2011-11-04T17:28:00.000-04:00

One Small Sale

Greetings everyone. This will be a brief update with a more substantial post promised for next week, along with more visits to the wonderful blogs I usually comment on more regularly and have so shamelessly neglected lately. Things have been busy here as the days until Moving Day dwindle down. Last weekend, I brought all my scarves, wrist warmers and photo calendars to the Burren for one final market. Thanks to the unprecedented October snowstorm here in the Northeast that day, customer turnout was low and so were my spirits when I made only one sale, the wrist warmers you see pictured above, proceeds from which covered the vendor's entry fee but not what I drank to pass the time.

Shake it Loose

The day turned from bad to worse when I visited a local pub for some Halloween fun. No sooner had I managed to shake off the gloom of my poor sales with some uninhibited dancing among costumed strangers than I discovered that my black winter coat had mysteriously disappeared in the drunken madness of the celebrations. I will never know if it was mistakenly grabbed, or stolen on purpose. It was not an expensive or a cherished item of clothing, but walking home coatless in the wet snow at 2am made me feel that the city of Somerville itself was aware of my departure, and providing me one last spiteful act of unwelcome, which only served the purpose of making it that much easier for me to leave.

Open Studios

Looking on the bright side, this means that on my next trip up north to Vermont to drop another carload of small possessions, I now have an excuse to go shopping for a new winter coat, bought in Vermont and made for Vermont winters, my first experience of which I am greatly looking forward to. I may even have to learn how to snowshoe! But before that can happen, my attention this week has been getting the studio Brian and I share ready for our last local appearance as Somerville artists. Vernon Street Open Studios takes place this weekend, Saturday and Sunday, Nov 5^th and 6^th. For anyone in the area, please do stop by. I’ll be offering my matted prints, calendars, books, wrist warmers and scarves and as the weather is predicted to be cool and dry, we are hoping for a good turnout and brisk sales. Full report next week.

Buy now while supplies last!

That’s all for now. Have a great weekend, one and all.

Am I Only Dreaming?

2011-10-25T10:33:00.000-04:00

Don’t Fence Me In

Those of you who follow this space know that in five weeks Brian and I will be packing up and moving from the Boston area, where he has spent the past 2 and I have spent the past 10 years, to the beautiful state of Vermont, where who knows what may happen and for how long. It’s been a bit of a shock to our friends and family that we are really doing this after talking about it for months as a serious and imminent possibility, and in my case, musing both privately and publicly about it as a distant and vague ambition for quite literally decades. Notice I did not call it a dream. I have long believed that humanity can be divided into those who talk about what most people only think , those who do what most people only talk about, and those who do to the constantly pushed limits of their imagination, will, passion and physical endurance what most people only do.

Small Pool

If you can think it, you can speak it aloud. If you can speak it aloud, you can make it happen. And if you can make it happen, you can make it bigger and better than anyone ever expected or imagined. I do not intend to end my life with nothing to show but unspoken thoughts, empty words, and half-done deeds, a lukewarm company if ever there was one. Neither do I need or expect to achieve fame, fortune and fulfillment on a grand scale. My goals are all modest. The things I seek are found and enjoyed by regular folks in all places and at all times. There have always been only two things that can stand in my - or anyone else’s for that matter – way: extremely bad luck, and paralyzing self-doubt. In fact, removing the latter can help to overcome any amount of the former. When I manage to accomplish something, the only thing that surprises me is how surprised everyone else is.

Night Runner

But back to dreams. I’ve been hearing a lot about dreams these past few years. Back in 2009 when I was traveling to a different city in the United States every month in an attempt to complete one marathon in all of the fifty states by the time I turned fifty, many people politely concealed their basic lack of comprehension by commending me on “following a dream.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard marathoners involved in this activity refer to it as a dream. It’s more often called an ambition, pursuit or even a quest, with all the attendant associations of a determined, longterm and mostly solitary challenge. The detailed planning and dedicated training that go into achieving this milestone are in no way dreamlike, and are actually well within the capabilities of the average human. Crossing a finish line with nothing but your own feet to thank, and receiving a medal for it, is about as real and human as it gets, and one of the few things you can do and say with certainty that it was all your doing, mind body and soul. This particular quest for me is on hold, but while it lasted, it was more than a dream come true – it was life come true.

Coiled Tight

Back in 2010, I decided that my mental and physical health were more important than a paycheck earned in an increasingly volatile and demoralizing office setting. Co-workers seemed confused that I didn’t have a compelling job offer or family obligations motivating my abrupt departure. When I revealed that I intended to take advantage of my freedom by working on some creative projects too long given only a sliver of my attention and energy, it was as if a light went on “OH – you’re following your dream! I wish I had your courage!” Even so, after weeks of discussion, many seemed surprised when my official last day was announced. “Wow, you’re REALLY leaving!” To this day, I am not certain why to some the lure of a dream makes comforting sense, and to others it seems the realm of threatening fantasy, and that not one person said “you are leaving a horrible job for a chance at a better life doing something you love and that sounds like a reasonable and practical move.”

Woven Hole

I have always had vivid and often disturbing dreams. At night my mind is host to waking dreams, lucid dreams, dreams that take place in a familiar or altered present, a past I never lived, a future I will later remember seeing glimpses of, and sometimes such rich colorful complex woven tapestries of settings, characters and scenes as to leave me exhausted on waking, as if I have lived several lifetimes between bedtime and morning. Sometimes these dreams follow me into the waking world, which then seems strange and dreamlike by comparison, and certainly more limited. Why, I wonder, can I not lift that coffee cup with my thoughts, as I did only an hour ago? Where are my white wings?

Moon Sees Herself in a Dream

In the waking world, I have lived many moments to which it would not have been amiss to ascribe the terms “unthinkable” or “unimaginable.” And yet, I lived them. And the more such moments one lives through, the more thinkable and imaginable and doable everything afterwards becomes. Possibly I am too hard on my friends and family when they speak of the dreams I pursue, because I’ve come through my individual experience to lack all objectivity regarding this word. My dreams have so much reality to them, and my waking life has such a dreamlike quality, it is no wonder that the two seem not to be in opposition on either side of a great divide, but to share a large middle ground where the best qualities of both not only co-exist, but are better for their borderless commingling.

The Last Place They Said I’d Never Leave (NYC)

In dreams we believe we can do anything. But dreams can also slip through your fingers without warning and leave you to face a rude awakening and the cold harsh light of dawn. Life can be comforting in its circumscribed routines and expected outcomes, but it can also be liberating when these structures are dismantled and rebuilt to form something even stronger. So, say not that I am moving to Vermont to follow a dream. Say I am going to Vermont to live my life.

On the Move

2011-10-20T12:16:00.000-04:00

On the Move

As further evidence of just how busy life has become, here I am more than a week after my last post once again apologizing in advance for brevity. I’ll also soon be sending out my Two Tigers Newsletter to those of you on my mailing list. If you would like to receive these occasional email messages, you can add your address in the box at the top of the column at right. A second apology goes out to any of you who receive news from me from multiple sources and will be experiencing some serious déjà vu this week!

Home

Since last I wrote, Brian and I took another trip up north to the Green Mountain State, where we viewed a beautiful apartment occupying the second floor of an old Victorian house. One day later we learned that our application had been accepted and that this will indeed be our new home as of December 1^st. That gives us exactly 6 weeks to dismantle what it has taken 10 years to build up here in Somerville, transfer it to a new location almost 200 miles away, and begin to establish what I hope will be an existence much improved in terms of the benefits to mind body and spirit.

The Peacock

http://www.etsy.com/listing/83923881/alpaca-scarf-the-peacock?ref=v1_other_2

Toast & Jam

http://www.etsy.com/listing/84280221/alpaca-scarf-toast-jam

Meantime, I’ve been crocheting. A lot. In moving cars, in between list making, phone calls and other communications, in fact almost every spare minute when I am not eating or sleeping. The two pieces above are now listed in my etsy shop and will also be among those offered for sale at my final two events here in Somerville. On October 29^th I will be at the Burren in Davis Square, and on November 5^th and 6^th I will be part of the Vernon Street Open Studios event, selling my fiber creations, books and calendars out of studio 6a on the second floor of 6 Vernon Street. In case you can’t come in person to these upcoming events or live too far away, most of my photographic works will remain available on this site and I am always happy to do custom work. Also, if you do not have or wish to create a special account for purchasing my scarves and wrist warmers on the Etsy site, I would be happy to arrange a direct purchase using Paypal or work out some other arrangement.

Unhesitating Generosity

That’s all for now. Next week I may have some Vermont photographs to share, and you will understand exactly why I am moving there! Thanks to all of you for the inspiration and friendship you continue to provide, with such unhesitating generosity. I honestly could not be where I am today and will be tomorrow without you.

Divided Attention

2011-10-12T11:39:00.001-04:00

Divided Attention

This week’s post will of necessity be brief. As my choice of title and images suggest, my mind has lately been going everywhere and nowhere at once, occasionally provoking the sensation of being both bound and lost. As regular readers of this space will know, I am on the verge of relocating from a city I’ve spent the past ten years living and working in, to a new home in another state and far less urban way of life. Plans for this move continue to shift and develop, with equal contributions from my own will and the whims of fate. No sooner does one lead materialize and vanish than another appears and demands consideration.

Every Which Way

At the same time, I have temporarily set aside my creative and business activities as a photographer to focus on the production and marketing of my alpaca fiber creations, which sold well this time last year and promise to do so again, justifying one of the rare instances of my following the money. It helps that I really really enjoy crocheting. Below is my newest pair of wrist warmers, available at my etsy shop. I’m hoping the skull and crossbones buttons will prove popular at my next craft market, which will be held Halloween weekend.

Alpaca Wrist Warmer in Teal Gray and Plum

http://www.etsy.com/listing/83309739/alpaca-wrist-warmer-in-teal-gray-and

I also completed a new scarf last week. In a departure from my usual color palette, and possibly a reaction to my last all-black scarf, this piece has no black whatsoever! I must admit I am not as pleased with this piece as I have been with others. Perhaps my state of mind interfered with the creative process, or perhaps only with my objectivity in assessing my own work. This piece features some sparkly dragonfly buttons that are sewn together on both sides of the scarf so they will be visible however it is worn.

Alpaca Scarf : The Dragonfly
(don't bother looking for this on etsy as it has already found a new home!)

I may be distracted and confused, but at least I’m consistent in my aesthetics. As I was assembling images for this post, I found a few taken some time ago at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden in New York and languishing unused in my files. For some reason they appealed to me and I decided to use them without quite knowing what I would be writing about this week. Then I noticed that they all contained strong directional lines and abstract patterns, which is exactly the state of my mood and mind at the moment, and also seems to translate into the designs I use for my fiber creations!

One Step at a Time

Next week I will have more creations to share and more news about where and when I will be moving. Until then, a heartfelt thank you to my followers who have given me such great sympathy and support in all my endeavors these past fourteen months since this blog began. You make it possible to continue this journey with joy and hope for a better future, and this is a rare and cherished gift.

Change of Scenery

2011-10-04T11:36:00.000-04:00

Hitting the Wall

Last weekend Brian and I enjoyed a brief getaway from the city. On the way up north to the Green Mountain State, we stopped to investigate a housing opportunity in the charming little town of Putney, VT. Why relocate, you ask? The current view from my apartment is captured in the image above. Here is the view I would have from the house we visited, an old country estate being modernized and subdivided into apartments for rent:

As Far as the Eye Can See

I will keep you all apprised as to when and if we will be moving to this paradise any time soon. Renovations are in progress and our application submitted as of this writing. I remain cautiously optimistic, well aware that the Universe sometimes has other better plans than the ones I make, and content to watch and wait and see how this new adventure unfolds. Meantime, I once again managed not to take many pictures while on vacation. It was drizzly and foggy most of the weekend and even as far north as Killington, the local foliage had only just begun to show the vivid colors for which it is famous. Besides, autumnal panoramas don’t really come across well on black and white film, and that is what was and is and evermore shall be in my camera. My current roll is only half-shot, so any salvaged images may take a while to surface here.

Last week I shared some images of new crocheted creations I’ve been focusing on lately. The three new wrist warmers I thought were finished let me know otherwise and demanded they be embellished with buttons, see updated image above, I believe a great improvement. All three are available through my etsy shop.

Here is the next pair to emerge from my new fiber-focused artistic phase. Just in time for Halloween, or any time of year for the cat lovers of the world! In the true spirit of feline rebellion and whimsy, for some reason these buttons refused to be sewn on straight, but I think that suits the spirit of the black cat, keepers of whom will surely corroborate! After one more pair of wrist warmers, I will be working on another scarf or two and share the finished products as completed.

http://www.etsy.com/listing/83142474/alpaca-wrist-warmer-in-light-brown-black

In Flux

Life is definitely in a flux phase at this point, with no choice but to give in to where the tides will push me next. The photograph above was taken at the beach one month ago, and here we are already in the middle of autumn. I recall that day, how the water made its way further and further onto the sand, forcing the beach goers to retreat and relocate and almost barring access back to the main entrance via a stretch of beach completely open only hours before. Everywhere visible were striations that had been left by previous encroachments of tides, and yet you could see that some folks were still surprised and annoyed that so soon after finding the perfect spot in which to make themselves at home, they had to pack up their things and move by no choice of their own. Other folks simply gathered their belongings and re-settled without complaint.

Time and Tide

It made me think about how change has a way of sorting human beings along a spectrum of types. At one far end are those who value stability and regularity at all costs, to the point that any change, even one that is necessary or beneficial, provokes fear, anger, confusion and grief. At the other end are those who so crave the stimulating challenges of change, they cannot live without it, and create it even where it is not necessary or beneficial. I imagine most of us fall somewhere between the two extremes, or have at times reacted with some of the qualities of both. I am no thrill seeker, tiring quickly of one situation and eagerly dismantling it in order to move on to the next. That said, if a situation doesn’t suit me, I have no qualms getting myself out of it if my well being is at stake. I am also not what might be considered a nester, or one who puts down roots, whether they be physical connections to certain surroundings, or psychological ties to a given role or identity or title defined by circumstances or persons. And yet, I am comforted by the routines and rituals that give daily life its familiar rhythms, and quickly establish them wherever I may be.

Loose Ties

I suppose I have struggled with this dichotomy all my life, with equal urges in me to be situated in the world in a meaningful way and also remain free. I know many people who find their place early in life and thrive on that continuity and security undisrupted and utterly content. I know others whose whole lives fall apart the first time any piece of their cherished and established structure is compromised. I know people whose quest for the right thing uses up their entire existence, who constantly question or defend whether the fault is theirs or that of a world which simply cannot provide them the satisfaction they require and ought not sacrifice just for the outward appearance of living happily and successfully according to accepted standards.

Open to Change

If you had asked me half my life ago whether I wanted to be beginning yet another new life with 14 months to go before my 50^th birthday, on the verge of a complete change of scenery, company and routines, I would have said no. If you had asked me whether that was probably what would happen, and whether I would be prepared to take on such a challenge with joy and hope, the answer would have been, and still is, a loud and enthusiastic HELL, YES!

May you all find the perfect balance of questing and nesting.

Moon & Stars

2011-09-27T16:30:00.000-04:00

http://www.etsy.com/listing/82238176/alpaca-scarf-moon-stars

Moon & Stars Scarf : closeup

I am one of those people who follows astrology, but only so far as it seems the best available or most amusing explanation for certain obvious patterns of personality or events that can neither be ignored nor accounted for in any other way. I don’t let the position of the planets dictate my choices. For instance, I do not cease all communications, avoid all electronics devices, and cancel all travel arrangements during Mercury retrograde periods. But you can be sure my computer is up to date on its backups, I leave plenty of extra time getting places, and am not at all surprised when important emails fail to reach their destinations or do so only to be completely misunderstood! Likewise, I’ve never refused someone’s company because of their birth sign. Let’s just say that the older I get, the more it becomes evident that the people whose company has remained an essential and enjoyable part of my life seem to be clustered in a more than random manner around certain select signs, and that those people who share the same sign are quite reliably and entertainingly alike.

http://www.etsy.com/listing/82238176/alpaca-scarf-moon-stars

Moon & Stars Scarf : the long view

I’ve always felt an especially strong connection to the activities of the moon. No, I am not a Pisces. Or a Cancer! But as a woman, I suppose I have a predisposition to affinity for any entity that experiences dramatic cycles of light and dark, sometimes hiding behind clouds, sometimes illuminating entire landscapes, sometimes rising high, sometimes sinking low, one day a full circle, one day a mere sliver, and then, when seemingly nothing at all, in a phase known as “in the dark of the moon,” actually on the verge of being “new.” I’m sure there are plenty of non-water sign, non-females out there who would also recognize themselves in that description. The full moon makes lunatics of us all. Just ask emergency medical personnel and police officers what happens to their statistics on nights when the moon is full! So, when I resumed my seasonal crocheting work a week or so ago, it seemed not only fitting but undeniable that my first piece would be an all-black scarf with silver beads, a tribute to both the full and the new moon.

Crane for the Sept 27^th New Moon

No one talks much about the new moon. For many years now, on the day of the new moon, I’ve indulged in the monthly ritual of writing down a few positive intentions and expectations for the upcoming four weeks. I fold the sheet of paper into an origami crane (which basic creature has proven the limit of my ancient art of paper folding expertise) and then to the best of my ability remain both open to, and active in the making of, any opportunity to fulfill these wishes. At the end of the four weeks, right before the next new moon, I unfold the crane, review how much closer I got to realizing my hopes and dreams, think about what needs to change, and write up another list to be folded into a new crane. Sometimes I haven’t accomplished anything. Sometimes I’ve actually encountered losses and setbacks. But more often than not I find that the simple act of writing down what I wanted and needed, and dare I say deserved, helped focus my efforts towards making some kind of progress. It’s a beautiful exercise.

Three New Wrist Warmers

At the last new moon, one of my goals was to make a good start on new crocheting projects, looking ahead to the weather getting colder and the holidays getting closer. At the time of the new moon this morning, I had one scarf and three pairs of new wrist warmers completed. I’ll be adding all of these items to my etsy shop, which is the exclusive online seller of my handmade fiber creations. The new wrist warmers are a bit of a departure, as I have finally learned how to make horizontal stripes and still keep a shape that fits snug on the hand. I am also using a new fiber, still 100% baby alpaca from Peru, but spun in a looser fuzzier style that gives texture variations to the piece. I also decided to go for a “no-frills” look with no ruffled edges or decorative buttons for those customers who prefer their accessories unadorned. I’ll be featuring new pieces here as I complete them. As always, if you are interested in a custom color combination or design, please let me know and I will do what I can to accommodate you.

So Many Possibilities...

It seems, even with repeated examination, life passes by too quickly. For me, taking time every four weeks to think about what lies ahead, and how I would like to emerge on the other side, slows time down for just a moment, and makes clear to the Universe that I understand perhaps every moment can’t be of great value in terms of one’s personal or professional progress, but I for one am going to treat every moment as if it had that potential. I will not be caught looking away when the smallest of moments decides to reveal the greatest of rewards. These postings also help in that regard, enabling me not just to record my weekly progress but to give myself a chance to recognize and make sense of it. To have such wonderful folks as yourselves following me and giving me even greater and often wiser perspective is a gift beyond measure. Many thanks to you all, and to all a Happy New Moon. Don’t forget to make a wish.

Marking Time

2011-09-20T10:42:00.000-04:00

Farewell to Summer

Like many of you in this hemisphere, I’ve been wondering lately and complaining loudly about how fast this summer has come and gone. It may be that the weather was so erratic, and at times catastrophic, the best days for which this season is famous and cherished were few and far between. Or maybe I have just been too distracted by other things to enjoy summer activities. The fact that it took me five weeks to shoot my most recent roll of film seems evidence of the latter.

Marking Time

But reviewing images spanning the last five weeks of summer has proven to be an interesting and informative exercise in perspective. For instance, I took the photograph above at an antique store in Ipswich last month, around the time I decided to do a post on the admirable art of bringing new life to salvaged materials. That post sat in a file unpublished and eventually appeared without this image because the film was still in my camera only half-shot at the time. As often happens, I was ahead of myself. As also often happens, having my initial intentions thwarted turned out to be a beneficial intervention by the Universe, whose plans are always far superior and more timely than my own. The Universe, after all, has been around a lot longer than I have, and hopefully accumulated some wisdom in the process, to which I defer and owe the happy circumstance that now I can present this image in its rightful spot, in the middle of a post about marking time.

Half Off

This is another image from the same antique shop, at which every item was being sold at half price, a clever marketing strategy compelling you to purchase all sorts of things you have no use or desire for, but feel you cannot leave behind, even if the reduced price was probably still more than the item was worth. Our willpower was rewarded at the next shop we visited, where everything was fairly priced according to its true value, and we found two wonderful pieces whose possession was a done deal before the price tag was even revealed. There’s a lesson in here somewhere that goes beyond the etiquette of successful antiquing to greater applications in life. Quality is sometimes worth waiting, and working, and paying for.

The White Feather of Surrender

One of the few times I managed to spend an afternoon at the beach, I brought my camera, which I almost never do, and took both the image that begins this post, and the one above, of a seagull feather in a tidal pool. The backstory of this image is that while my attention was turned away from my beach towel, the creature with which this feather is associated took his opportunity to assess my belongings and attempt to pillage whatever seemed most likely to contain snack food. A moment of serene focus, hovering closely over an impossibly white feather marooned on its island of sparkling sand, quickly became a scene of broad comedy as I chased the seabird away with loud noises and flailing arms. He was unimpressed. The lesson: don’t take yourself too seriously. No one else does.

Skylight

All too soon it seems that recreational activities have moved indoors, and as is typical here in the Northeast, last week came the day that I went to sleep in one season and woke up in another. The sun is still warm and can heat up a room, especially in late afternoon, but outdoors, sweaters must be hastily pulled on if you simply cross the street to the shady side. We have already had our first overnight frost warnings, prompting urban gardeners to pull in their potted plants from balconies, decks and patios, as we will all begin to pull ourselves in and hunker down for winter, which will surely arrive just as we have let go of summer and begun enjoying the beautiful brevity of autumn.

Last Call

The last images on my roll of film were taken on an evening out at a local Irish bar, another place I tend not to bring expensive and delicate photographic equipment. My intention was simply to shoot off the roll in my impatience to see finally those antiques and beach shots, and I didn’t much care at this point that the lighting was dim and the sharpness likely to be compromised both by slow shutter speed and the difficulties of focusing a lens manually with a few drained glasses of Shiraz already dulling my senses. I shot randomly, whimsically, and at times with uncensored melodrama, and I am very pleased, not only that my camera and I returned home safely, but that the percentage of good shots in this batch was just about equal to when I am shooting sober in the light of day and with all my faculties unimpaired! Not sure what the lesson is here. But it does prove that the benefits of red wine are endless.

The September equinox occurs at 09:04 (or 9:04am) Coordinated Universal Time (UTC) on September 23, 2011. Wherever you may be, celebrate!