Last weekend I finished a new top, pictured above. It’s the Cashmerette Webster top/dress – which I made a muslin of back in early December to see if I would like it better as a dress or a top. Top won – and I made this version out of some stash fabric (Nani Iro double-gauze) that I have been waiting to use for two and a half years! Since making this top, I’ve worn it five times – a clear indicator that I will need to make another top from this pattern.
I’ve got many things cut out at the moment, or ready to be, and I’ve just salvaged two unfinished jackets from the sewing basket where things to go die. If I get myself in the right mode, I will have some new clothes for spring.
At the moment, I’ve got a few days off work – taken in a bit of a fit last week, when I reached the end of a high-pressure project (and ongoing overtime for months), and my brain kind of broke, snapped or whatever. One might call it a nervous breakdown – but given that I seem to be returning to myself rather quickly, I’m going to settle with extreme burnout as a better description. I’ve got until Monday off, and if I’m still feeling foggy, then I’ll take a few more days. At this point the emotional upheaval (crying) has tapered off and I’m just feeling very slow. Not depressed – just as though my brain has come to a bit of a crawl.
I’m taking things easy and trying to figure out what steps I can take to better protect myself, my boundaries, and free time in the future so that I can get the necessary time out that I need to function. Part of the issue is that I have not taken a total break from work and union responsibilities in a year – even when I take time off I check email and often end up working – and while I thought I could get away with that, I realize now that I can’t. Also, I should always schedule a week off in February because I always need one. And I don’t need to hoard work – it is entirely possible to share my workload better with my team.
Anyhow – I’ve returned to zazen after a week without (what a mistake, I always drop it when I most need it), and am focused on going in – in order to get out of this state I’m in. There is nowhere else to go right now I’m afraid – it’s all me, or nothing. Or it’s nothing and all me. Because zen.
So I’m here, and sewing – fixing up this blog to reflect the focus of it a bit better – and packing up for an overnight to Tofino tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll have more things to say on all of these topics shortly.
In the world of making stuff, there is always the next thing. And you never know what it’s going to be. What’s the next thing that will capture your interest to the degree required to learn everything about it and dive in to a world of new materials and techniques?
Since I was 31 and started off sewing, small things – sock monkeys and pillows, then quilts – I’ve moved to crochet, then garment sewing, then knitting, now weaving. I’m not an expert in any of these arenas, though I have enough basic knowledge and skill to be relatively successful in my undertakings. (Relative, that is, to the time I’ve spent doing it – weaving is still a mountain I’m climbing).
I recently noticed that I’ve been collecting books on natural dyeing for the last couple of years. It wasn’t something I set out to do – but I’ve managed to make a nice little library for myself in an area of textile work that I have no experience with – which indicates that at the very least, this topic is interesting to me. And suddenly I’m pretty sure that it is the next thing I am setting myself to learn about.
To that end, I’m gathering materials for iron and copper mordants, looking forward to the first crop of rhubarb for the leaves used to set dyes. I’m looking at natural dyes and which can be found in the wild on my island – which ones are exotic but essential (like madder, and indigo) – and which mushrooms and lichens hold the best colour potential.
My studio is well appointed for such an endeavour – with a small fridge, and running water – a big deck for working outside in the sunnier months. And though I want to go straight to hand painting a warp, I’m going to start small with samples for a dye journal in cotton, wool, and mohair (all materials I have onhand). (I want to hand paint a warp this year).
I’m thinking my first project will be a dye book with fabric and yarn samples – different mordants, dyes, fibres. It’s not a one-time project, but something to build on if it turns out that I am as fascinated with this as I have been with other textile experiments. We’ll see.
I feel like it’s time for a maker update, since I’ve got so many projects on the go at the moment. Even though I don’t have a big goal this year to “make 100 things”, I can’t stop myself from planning and starting one project after another.
So, I’ve just finished an Embark Shawlette, made with some Malabrigo Rios that my step-daughter gave to me last year – that’s the picture you see up above in the featured image spot. That knit was so great, because I finished it over a weekend and it has a lovely shape and feel. This is going into the mail tomorrow to my friend Alanna – because she ooed and ahed over the yarn so much that I felt like she truly needed to own something made of it. I am going to make this again for myself – out of some Sweet George worsted yarn I snagged while in Vancouver last week.
A much longer and more complicated knit on my needles at the moment is this Leaf Lace Scarf which I’m knitting out of some bright Wollemeise that I received in a swap last year around this time:

I love this yarn, but it was hard to figure out what to do with it – a leaf lace feels right and although you can’t tell from the photo because of the scrunchiness of pre-blocked lace – it’s working up very nicely.

Also on the needles right now is the Escarpment cowl, knitted.with some Sugar Bush Motley, an alpaca and yarn blend made in Canada. I wasnt sure how this would knit up and am oh so pleased by the gradient. Thinking the other ball of this (in a different colourway) might get used as some weft in a rigid heddle project, though it knits so nicely!

And finally, here are all the pieces of a cardigan that now need seaming together. Ive been working on this since fall and need to get it done.
In sewing news I have two tops, a Weber tank and a Blackwood cardigan that i cut out before xmas and need sewing. And while in Vancouver I bought fabric for making pants so that will be my next foray. I haven’t sewn many pairs of pants (maybe 2) but it’s time I get more comfotable with their construction.
In general I am so unhappy with garment quality in the rack these days that I am motivated to make more or all of my clothing again. At Atex in Vancouver I spent $70 on enough fabric for three pairs of pants. Good quality denim, linen, and twill. Now I just need the patterns to go with and I’ll be making trousers for spring wear.
I’ve been taking advantage of my city things this past week, last night’s adventure being a trip with friends to the Museum of Anthropology to see the exhibition of Coast Salish blankets that is currently on display. The feature photo on this post are some modern reproductions of much earlier works which are fragile and under glass.
Since reading the book Salish Blankets: Robes of Protection and Transformation, Symbols of Wealth last year, I have come to realize that pretty much everything I have learned about Coast Salish art is wrong. Though to some degree I have been critical of the colonial relationship to indigenous artworks – how Haida art is often passed off as the art of all coastal peoples, how colonial interpretations of First Nations work limited it value as art, how settler people have never learned to see or appreciate the maker and the culture behind the artifacts hung on their walls – I have continued to hold a limited understanding of First Nations cultural and artworks from my bioregion.
For starters, the book and display of Salish blankets have opened my eyes to:
Tomorrow I will be returning to the MOA for a one day workshop on the techniques of Coast Salish weaving. This will snug up against what I have learned about the post-colonial knitting tradition which is inspired by the weaving repertoire but not as diverse owing to the fact that knitting was shaped much more by market forces, and less by internal cultural and artistic needs. I’m looking forward to more learning in this rich textile tradition, and continuing my unlearning of a limited vision for the history of this place.
This was the view from out front of my East Vancouver zendo last night, just before dark and the storm rolled in. It’s not exactly a picture of meditative peace, but it’s a neighbourhood we all recognize: hurried and sometimes ugly, captivating, ripe, and mostly transitory.
I’m working in the city, out of the downtown office building, all this week – which I planned for by scheduling many meetings, in addition to social outings with friends, and trips to the zendo to sit with my sangha. I like to joke that I must be the only person who leaves a quiet gulf island, to come and meditate in industrial East Van – but it really is the context that makes Mountain Rain such an unexpected pearl. I had a mind last night to go to all of the temples and churches in the city and take a picture of the view from the front door – to prove some kind of point about where we find our spiritual homes – but those who have traveled out in the world know that it’s rare to find a well-used temple out in a far flung rice field, or an fully packed church sitting on a lonely hilltop. Our places of gathering are our places of transit – and real estate is much cheaper near the trainyard besides.