Red Thread Studio

A Gift in Your Honor

December 1 is this blog's two-year anniversary. Despite all of my uncertainty about where to go with this blog, or how to find time to properly grow it, and my frustration with the way my life choices have turned out this year, this blog remains a source of great satisfaction and purpose for me, because of my wonderful readers. I am continually grateful that people from near and very far come by and visit and return.

I haven't been very good about responding to comments, but I truly love to receive them. Thank you to everyone who has written and shared thoughts and ideas. Thanks to everyone who has linked to this blog and honored best practices of giving credit for the thoughts conceived and expressed here. And despite my ambivalence about Facebook in general, I also love the growing circle of friends there interested in art, textiles, culture, and sustainability. On good days, it's a great source of lively conversation that keeps me connected to an inspiring circle of creative minds and hearts amidst the everyday chaos.

So, in honor of all my readers and two years of writing this blog, I've made a donation to Women for Women International through their Gifts That Give Back option. I gave US$75 to help purchase a sewing machine for a woman in a war-torn country. According to the organization, "For women in Afghanistan, Congo and Kosovo, the path to economic self-sufficiency often begins with a small home tailoring business." Donations of this kind are not always completely specific, and the money may go toward other purposes, and that's okay. But I like the thought of a woman in need not only receiving this tool that will help her thrive, but that she may also enjoy, and that might open doors of creativity as well as sufficiency. I'm reading Half the Sky, as I've mentioned, and it presents a very convincing argument that saving women and girls can save the world, and its authors support Women for Women International.

Another project I'd like to remind you of, as we kick off the holiday season, is The Sewing Machine Project. They'll accept your donations of used machines and send them to people in need in Louisiana and Mississippi, where families are still struggling to get back on their feet after Hurricane Katrina. I think they're still active, and what a great service.

If you know of other textile- and art-related giving projects, let me know. I have to give a shout-out to my mother, who knit hundreds of baby hats this year for premature and ill infants along with some friends of hers; they just received an award from the city of Richardson, Texas, for the project. While we grew up in my family with a strong sense of justice, it was often tied to a have-not mentality that I work to overcome, and we didn't ever practice service that I  can recall, so it's wonderful to see her so engaged in this project and giving her time and energy and talent.

That's all for now -- I'll be back later this weekend with a Full Moon post, links, and more. I hope you all had a fantastic Thanksgiving. Blue skies and thanks to all of you, many times over, for visiting.

A Storyteller's Story Up at HandEye

A Storyteller's Story, my profile of Jude Hill of Spirit Cloth, is up at HandEye Magazine online, complete with a slideshow of Jude's wonderful work. Keith Recker, who is publishing, editing, and doing much of the writing for HandEye, was terrific to work with, and I hope to do more for this exciting and ambitious new publication. And if you become a Facebook fan of HandEye, Keith posts fascinating and relevant links just about every day for people interested in art, craft, culture, and environmental issues. 

I called myself an "explorer" in my author bio, because I thought I was going to be in northern Brazil for Thanksgiving -- I was invited to give a talk on sustainable and organic textiles -- and was feeling very Global Textile Explorer-ish when I wrote it. But no, I'll be here at home after all. I had a disorienting moment of "How can you be in two places at once when you're not anywhere at all," as Firesign Theater once said, and realized that the trip was simply untenable at this time. So instead I'll have a few lovely days off to be an artist and maker, and do lots of yoga and dance and reading and planning. And I ordered this embroidered linen fabric from PurlSoho to make some curtain panels and a pillow or two:

Lovely, yes? It's made in India, and I've been coveting it for months.

How We Talk About What We Do

It seems that the conversation about how we talk about what we do is getting louder, and more insistent: We're just not happy with the available words as we identify ourselves as creators, and we want something that is neither limiting nor misleading. Joanne Mattera has written a provocative post about not using an adjective in front of artist; i.e., don't call yourself a fiber artist or an art quilter or a ceramicist, just call yourself an artist, and then live up to it.

In Joanne's view, this helps artists to avoid getting trapped in the fiber/craft ghetto and opens up more opportunity and I think she's right about that. I still think it's unfortunate that being a quilter or stitcher seems to have as many liabilities as benefits. Her choice of a Gee's Bend quilt image is interesting, because as far as I know, they did call themselves quilters; it was a farsighted curator who put them in a context that eliminated that label. And part of the visibility of the pieces was the whole, "Think these are modern art? Think again! They're just quilts! By women! Fooled you!" line.

So I reiterate that labeling is more for others than yourself, but it does seem to matter. There are great comments on the maker post about this.

I have a language pet peeve too, and I've resisted writing about this because it seems a little or a lot on the curmudgeonly side, but I hate when women talk about being "fiber addicts" or "bead junkies" or otherwise using the language of addiction to refer to their interest in and love of materials. Why? Because, just like calling yourself a shoe junkie or a shopping addict, it's a way of abdicating responsibility and choice. "I can't help it, I'm an addict." I can say for sure that this is not the way to advance your interests as an artist. I have never, ever heard a man refer to the materials and tools that he uses in that way. They're the things he needs to support his creative will, not an addiction.

Now, lest you send me a message that I should "lighten up," know that I'm lecturing myself as much as anyone else in the words that follow. If you love textiles, paint, fabric, yarn, beads, stitching, sewing, color, texture, photography, books, workshops, whatever it may be, own it. Declare that it's what you love and it's how you choose to spend your time, money, and mental energy. Don't cop out as a junkie who can't control herself. If you're an artist, you deserve good tools and supplies and inspiration.

We use a lot of war words and violence language in our culture. We also use a lot of addiction language. If our words create our future, then let's choose to do a better job on both fronts.

Now, just one link for a little fun: Printsource New York, the textile design trade show, has a new blog on print and pattern in fashion and textiles.

Full Hunter's Moon

The first night of driving home in the dark was made a little easier by the Full Hunter's Moon, exact earlier today but still shining. This is the only full moon in November, but we'll have two in December, closing out this extraordinary year with a blue moon on December 31, which should mean that anything is possible. I have a great blue moon soundtrack to post then.

A year ago we were celebrating the triumph of hope over experience, corruption, and everything else, and though the year has been full of trouble, we still have that joyous victory (at least in my book) even if the pace and process of change is so much slower and messier than we thought it might be. 

Julie Demboski says: "Creative types should benefit enormously from this Moon, as will anyone dealing with boundary and empowerment issues, and so will those who have been stuck, in some sense, within the process of creating the life–they will be rescued by the coalescence of their own most typical energies and impulses, and placed in the ‘garden’ of their own creation."

Copyright Glennis Dolce. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

This photo comes from the Flickr page of Glennis Dolce (a great destination -- she's got about 1,000 photos that will transport you to shibori heaven), and at first I thought it was one of her dyed fabric pieces, with a moon created with some kind of resist. Instead, it's a real shibori-patterned sky, reminding me that nature is always the source. Have a magical and creative full moon on this November night. 

 

Is 2010 the Year of the Maker?

Many people who work with textiles (or ceramics, wood, glass, you name it), myself included, struggle with defining themselves. Are we artists, artisans, crafters? The answer often seems to rely on our own inner perception of the seriousness of the work, or on some kind of amateur/professional fault line. But lately I'm hearing more people use the term "maker," an interesting, and possibly very helpful, variation on the theme.

For most of us, choosing a position on the art-craft continuum isn't really necessary until we have to define our work for others, or make decisions about our own long-term direction and whether we want to operate in a gallery/studio system, as entrepreneur craftspeople, or some other model. Then all kinds of issues come up -- are we good enough to call ourselves artists? Is craft too often misinterpreted as that dreaded thing, a hobby? What if we work in many media and don't have the kind of focus that being an artist or artisan implies? Do we have to separate function from beauty, design from provocation? 

Identifying as a maker sidesteps a lot of this, and is liberating in that way, especially if we aspire to make beautiful things, or to make things with a clear aesthetic value, without worrying about whether it's art or craft. It also connects us with others who make things everywhere; it offers a bond between makers of all kinds, and it's refreshingly free of a gender context. And it situates us in an active, present moment -- we can make things now, whereas we often hear, "I'm not really an artist yet."

Best of all, it reflects a long-overdue appreciation for the spirit of making, without a doubt the silver lining to the recession. As much as I complain about all the junk that's out there in the so-called indie craft world, I do recognize that every entry point is a way for people to discover the joy in the process of making. From there, some will move on and others will find a lifetime of satisfaction, and possibly much more, in making.

Back at the ranch, a few links for you:

• Debra Lunn and Michael Mrowka are working with Indonesian dyers and Robert Kaufman fabrics to produce fabrics. The Robert Kaufman site has a nice slideshow here, at the top right of the page, showing some of the batik method. They've also begun to blog about their Indonesia experiences here. It's not always easy being a global textile explorer; their travel route sounds daunting.
• Via the wonderful Deux Frontieres blog and American Gypsy Living, a new discovery, I came across Bokja Design, a Beirut company created by designers Hoda Baroudi and Maria Hibri. Their mission: "To employ the age-old artisanal traditions and sensibilities of the East in the creation of contemporary furniture designs and decorative items." These pieces are sold at ABC Home in the United States, but mostly I'm including them for beauty and inspiration. The designers use vintage embroidered tapestries. If you've never been to ABC Carpet & Home in New York, by the way, you should not miss it if you love textiles. It's an extraordinary place.

 

 

Finally, over at The Textile Blog, John Hopper has been posting excellent profiles of contemporary textile artists, including our friends Deb Lacativa and Cathy Kleeman. His latest profile is an artist new to me, Peggy Brown. Peggy's quilted works are very painterly, my favorite kind of art quilts. Every time I visit John's site I find something amazing and enlightening. 

My lovely friend Betsy gave me some acrylic inks for my birthday last week. I've been eager to try these, and I'll report back.

Oops

I made a small correction to an old post and the new Typepad republished it as a new post --- sorry. I deleted the repeated version. The original post is here.

Meanwhile, I got an e-mail from the wonderful people at Maiwa about a very unfortunate situation there. They had scheduled an Indian artisan leader and speaker, and he was refused a visa by the Canadian government. Read her post here. This visa refusal seems utterly absurd, and sad for those of us who love textiles, craft, and culture.

Gifts and Catching Up

The best part of the trip to Houston was, as expected, meeting glorious Glennis, the Shibori Girl and her friends. I splurged on two of her silk scarves:

 

Through Glennis, I also met Katrina, a very talented garment sewer and silk specialist. Both Glennis and Katrina had been on a textile trip to Japan, and had great stories of ducking out for authentic Japanese food, and befriending indigo dyers -- read more on Glennis's blog. I also met Jennifer, who sells vintage textiles and had vintage sari ribbon, but sadly I didn't get back to her booth to buy. I also met some terrific art quilters who work with Quilting Arts magazine -- Judy Coates Perez is someone I've admired; she paints beautiful fabric pieces and does stitched metal. I met Sheree from Sheree's Alchemy, a talented designer/sewer and proponent of organic fabrics. I joined SAQA.

These meetings were the lovely gifts of what was otherwise a strange event and trying travel. I also got a fantastic surprise gift in the mail from awesome Jane -- a vast supply of shisha mirrors, both round and square. I've got some stitching to do.

Back home, I spent the rest of the week back at work and buying my new(er) car, which, when it was all said and done, turned out very well. I bought the car from incredibly nice, honest people, had a totally helpful and kind loan person at the credit union, and feel like I got lucky in an economy where people are keeping their good used cars. Used-car-buying may be a road normally littered with giant potholes and unscrupulous characters, but once I found a good car for me, everything happened with integrity and grace.

Now I'm having a very yin day, recovering. Two weeks without yoga or belly dance had me in knots and feeling large (not in a good way), so I unkinked myself with a long session this morning. I am to be Princess Leia for a party next week; I normally don't engage in Halloween activities, but this is for my favorite 7-year-old, and I can't say no; so there is some guerilla costuming to do.

It feels like things will settle down soon, as shorter days arrive, and I can blog more and create more. I'm not sure these days if I'm blogging as a writer who loves textiles, as a global textile explorer, as an artist, or all of the above. I think it's all of these things, though perhaps I'd be better off focusing more.

I'm also pondering what to do with 130,000 frequent flyer miles. I can go anywhere in the world! Trouble is, I don't have a big cash supply for hotels, etc. I'm afraid if I wait too long the airlines will dismantle/devalue the whole program. So where do I want to go? Where DON'T I want to go? I've not been to Paris, Bali, Hawaii, India, Vancouver, or Japan. I love London, and there are great exhibits at the museums in New York City right now. If anyone needs a house-sitter or has a rental for the holidays, let me know.

At least for today, it feels like a big, beautiful world, full of textiles and culture, music and love, and possibilities.

Waltz Across Texas

I'm on my way to Houston for International Quilt Festival (for work) and then to Dallas for a day and a half. I've been to Dallas many times before, but never Houston. There are things about Texas that I really like -- the colorful, creative, rebel Texas mythology, the open road, the music, the Friday Night Lights nostalgia, the Anne Richardses and Willie Nelsons and Lyle Lovetts -- and a lot that feels pretty alien, like the sprawling oil-and-gas cities and the red-state majority. Texas has some phenomenal textile artists, like Jane Dunnewold and Mary Ruth Smith, and a lot of creative people working in Austin and elsewhere.

I'm most excited about the chance to meet Glennis, and Malka, who is one of my authors, and some of the other artists who'll be there.

And speaking of quilters, thanks to Elsie Campbell for mentioning this blog on her lovely blog. Maybe she'll be there too . . . in fact, if any of my readers will be there, please look for me. I'll be at the Quilting Arts booth some of the time, or email me at elainelipson at gmail dot com and we'll find a way to meet.

Meanwhile, I spent some time today looking for information on the Korean technique of pojagi - piecing small pieces of fabric, often sheer, with French seams so that there are no raw edges on the back. Here's a great link, and also click on the "wearables and theater" button on artist Chunghie Lee's site. There are some beautiful examples of pojagi on Flickr, but none are licensed for noncommercial reproduction. 

Now I must go pack. Updates soon.

Craft in America Series on PBS

Craft in America begins tonight on most PBS stations. Check the station guide here. From the Web site:

We have a deep sense of longing for the handmade. Perhaps because each of us, in our own way, has had a craft experience. Sometimes it’s an object passed down to us, or one that crosses our path, and connects us to others in traditions, heritage, and rituals.

Craft gives pleasure as well as function. It is inspirational as well as useful. It is the best representation of who we are as a culture. Craft is democratic. It is broad enough to accommodate anyone who makes something or appreciates the handmade. Craft is all around us. You’ll find it wherever you look – hiding in plain sight.

Craft in America offers you a place to explore these connections and to inspire your own creativity – through the PBS documentary series and this website.

Here, There and Everywhere

A few quick links -- sorry to send you all over the Web, but all of these require linking back rather than posting images.

• Since we've been considering Indonesian batik, head over to the Textile Museum's photostream on Flickr. There's a wonderful collection of photographs from their gala celebrating the exhibition of Barack Obama's mother's textiles from that country. The gala featured gorgeous contemporary fashions made with traditional batik and ikat fabrics. 
• Fans of now-defunct Domino magazine will be happy to know that some of its most creative staff have launched Lonny, an online home design magazine. I don't love the electronic format on a laptop screen, but it's better than no magazine at all, and it's free to viewers.
• Dijanne, the intrepid textile itinerant, has posted photos of her newest Traveler's Blanket, in blue. I love the look, intention and spirit of these textiles. This spectacular piece is for sale, so I hope an enthusiastic collector finds it. The work of Dijanne, like that of Jude, truly embodies the idea of soul cloth or authentic cloth. 
• StyleCourt has posted a wonderful inspiration board that is a mosaic of artist's palettes. I'd love to have this as a big  -- giant -- print. 
• If you're interested in Spoonflower or other online digital textile printing services, but need someone to walk you through the use of Illustrator or Photoshop to do this, here's a tutorial that looks very helpful.