Bloom

My favorite tree is in bloom.

Just when I think winter will never end, the buds start showing up and there is hope. This year the buds appeared, then there was a freeze and I panicked--maybe they wouldn't bloom. But here they are.

Their beauty so strong that they get me out of the house to look closer, and to share with you.

This bloom reminds me of the incredible painting by Van Gogh that is on display at the Philadelphia Art Museum in the exhibition Van Gogh Up Close. It closes tomorrow but moves on to the National Gallery of Canada in Ottowa, May 25 to September 3, 2012. The painting comes right at the end of the exhibition, and clearly the curators also feel the power of this painting since they put it as the first illustration in the catalog and as a two-page detail at the end. Almond Blossom, from 1890, shows a branch of the flowering tree silhouetted against a fantastic blue-green sky. When I saw it I almost burst into tears. It has nothing contrived about it. It's not cleaver, or witty, or conceptually smart--it simply conveys an absolutely present communication between the artist and the tree--so honest that anyone looking at the painting must feel the exhilaration of being alive. It is what I wish of my work, and why I appreciate the tree outside my window.

Thank you for the encouragement to continue writing this blog that came in emails and online. It makes me happy to share my thoughts with you; keeps me connected from my corner of the world. I do post in facebook fairly often, so if you aren't my friend there, please send a request. You can like my professional page (bhakti ziek weaver) or ask to be friends on my personal page (bhakti ziek). Or do both--why not?

Dance Recital

Life's a bit busy right now, trying to move forward on my website designing, weaving, and preparing for SAIC (class is full and overflowing, which is great)--so instead of words I will post images of the fabulous day I had yesterday. Thank you In Motion Dance Studio and all the budding ballerinas in Randolph.

New Weavings

Birthday weaving for Holly

detail of Birthday Weaving for Holly

Two of my closest friends had birthdays yesterday, which is nice. What is even nicer is that we live near each other so we could have a big celebration with noisy poppers (that scared my dog who was shaking under the table), delicious food, and good conversation which included many facts about September 14th and fifty years ago, since Liz turned that magical number. Did you know that Barbie turned 50 this year? Or that the first "successful" Russian moon landing happened on September 14th when the craft crashed into the moon?

While I was in the middle of weaving these two birthday weavings, I told Liz I wasn't going to weave any more birthday weavings--and I remember thinking, she knows I am bluffing. But apparently not. Both Holly and Liz were appropriately surprised, and appreciative. Me too. Going along with my theme of gratitude from the previous blog posting, I am so grateful for these two wonderful friends who encourage me in many ways, especially to stay positive and to remember to laugh--so making weavings for them was a pleasure. I tried to consider what I thought was appropriate for each of them, at the same time to develop my idea of weaving the flowers in my garden. I called Holly my garden guru, since she has taught me lots about these flowers, and she is the one I will go to when I need more information.

Birthday Weaving for Liz

Weaving seen on an angle

detail of Birthday Weaving for Liz

In the summer between first and second year of graduate school, at Cranbrook Academy of Art, Liz and I presented several lectures/hands on demonstrations of weaving processes used by Safavid weavers in conjunction with the exhibition, Woven from the Heart, Spun from the Soul, curated by Carol Bier, shown at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Remembering that Liz loved one of those textiles that had poppies, I decided to do my own version, starting with an image of poppies from my front yard. Weaving on a 60/2 silk warp (I did get this confirmed by Redfish Dyeworks) and using metallic wefts (gold for Holly's weaving and silver for Liz's), as well as silk wefts, I achieved a quality in these fabrics that shimmers and changes depending on the angle at which you view the weavings. It means that different viewings will reveal new details. I thought it was like a hologram, but another friend said it reminded her of a computer screen, a simile more people will relate to today.

I was really into baking yesterday. First I made a poppy seed cake (to go with the poppy weaving). Then I made an apple pie. Then I made ginger carrot cupcakes with marzipan carrots on top of ginger orange cream cheese frosting (recipes from Deborah Madison and Martha Stewart). If I had more time I would have kept going (banana cream pie sounded good, something chocolate came to mind). I thought it would be nice to have an obscene amount of sweets like some over the top wedding celebration. Fortunately time ran out and we just had abundance.

Apple Pie, one of three desserts

Surprise Day Trip

Detail of 4-weft lampas by Bhakti Ziek

Isn't it lovely how each day has a different surprise. I was upstairs weaving a four-weft lampas this morning, very pleased with the results, when my phone rang. It was my cousin, Matthew Shubin, and he was near White River Junction on his way to Cornish, NH. Realizing he was probably close to us, he called to see if we could come to the concert he was playing at 2 p.m. at the Saint-Guadens National Historic Site. It is always nice to see Matt and Helen, and their dog Uma--and it was especially nice to sit out on the portico (we had our dog, December, with us) and listen to the Latin Landscapes Trio (flute, bassoon and guitar) playing while looking at the incredible view through tall flowers and soft rain.

Latin Landscapes Trio playing at The Saint-Gaudens National Historic Site

View from my seat as I listened to the concert

We had never heard of this National Site, but it turns out to be the only national park in NH, and a very interesting place for artists to visit. Augustus Saint-Gaudens, a famous and successful sculptor (1848-1907) lived here many summers, and then full-time at the end of his life. He did the kind of sculptures you see in public spaces where a person is never just a person, but the embodiment of honor or justice or truth. As I mellow (sort of) I find I can enjoy work, that I wouldn't want in my home, for its own sake, and this new tolerance even allows me to appreciate what I am seeing. I especially liked the reliefs of Saint-Gaudens, which reminded me of the beautiful Assyrian reliefs I had seen recently at the Hood Museum. I think the way image is rendered in relief is similar to the detailing possible in a weaving. I was also drawn to Saint-Gaudens use of language in his reliefs.

Detail of relief sculpture by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

The issue of ways of drawing that are appropriate to weaving has been on my mind. There are certain time periods whose style especially "speaks" to me. Safavid textiles and Ottoman textiles both have strong natural elements that are rendered particularly well for the elements of weaving. When I put on the 60/2 silk warp (though maybe it is 20/2, I am still not sure) I decided to try harder at achieving a quality that appeals to me. I pulled out my copy of Ipek: The Crescent and the Rose (a glorious book with beautiful illustrations of Ottoman weavings) and have been flipping through the pages, exclaiming about the beauty of these fabrics. (We lived with our books packed up for so long that just having them out on the bookshelves here seemed enough for awhile. Now they are starting to come off the shelves, showing up in different rooms, my choices and Mark's, intermingling and inspiring.) These textiles always have clean flat areas of color, often outlined by another thin line that adds to their crispness and clarity. There is enough detail to distinguish the motif (usually a type of flower) but not so much that it gets lost in the pixelation of warp and weft.

Ipek: The Crescent and the Rose

Detail of Ottoman lampas photographed from Ipek

So I am trying to work my imagery accordingly. Starting with digital images of my flowers, I am drawing on top of them in a new layer in Photoshop, keeping some lines of information, but not too much. In the image below you see the threads quite clearly, but this image is taken an inch from the cloth. When you see the cloth at normal range the threads blend into a field of color. I am using four wefts (one ground and three pattern). The ground weft works both as a 4/1 satin and a 1/4 satin, and the other three wefts weave as 1/2 twills, but because their binding warps are spaced further apart than the ground warp (ratio 3 ground warp to 1 binding warp), their floats are longer than the floats of the ground weft. (All of this is explained in detail in The Woven Pixel chapter on lampas.)

Detail of a 4-weft lampas by Bhakti Ziek

I am questioning the type of silk I am using for my pattern weft. I would prefer a softer yarn--a silk floss. I will have to do an internet search to try and find appropriate weft. I have lots of tightly wound silk on my shelves (mostly white--I always think I am going to dye it but....) which is good for warp, but I want pattern wefts that pack tightly but loft and cover when floated. The damask liserie that I wove at Lisio in 1997 had silk wefts with these characteristics. There are always two wefts working in this fabric, but the colors change as you move up the cloth so it appears as if there are more weft systems than two.

Damask liserie woven by Bhakti Ziek

Detail of damask liserie by Bhakti Ziek

One last comment about the Saint-Gaudens National Historic Site: they have a small gallery called The Picture Gallery which is currently showing work by Claire Watkins, on view until August 16th. She has amazing work and one piece, Flock of Needles, really enchanted me. She has a group of threaded needles where the ends of the thread is attached to a wall, and the needles hoover in air near a moving magnet. They are like a family of fish gathered around bread. If you click on her name you can see this piece and some others.

Raspberry Picking

Raspberry picking at Sunshine Valley Organic Berry Farm

Holly and I went to Sunshine Valley Organic Berry Farm in Rochester, VT today to pick raspberries. I have been checking the website and calling to check the conditions--and today was perfect. Rob Meadows, co-owner with his wife Patricia Rydle, showed us where to start and you can see him and Holly in the before picture above left--berries on the bush in the center--and the after picture. I did take a picture of all 16 boxes full of the berries we picked--but I must have have done something wrong since it didn't show up when I downloaded the images. I just froze some for the winter and tomorrow will get together with Holly and make jam. It is a learning experience for both of us. I pulled out my big canning jar--which I have only used for natural dyes, and bought a new book on food storage (freezing, canning, pickling, etc.). Last summer I was overwhelmed watching my Vermont friends grow and store vegetables, fruit, and chickens, wondering how they learned these amazing skills, and feeling I could never manage it myself. But now I think, little by little. So raspberries first, and in a few weeks the blueberries will be ready and I can pick, freeze and can them.

Bees at Sunshine Valley Organic Berry Farm

In one corner of the farm there was this enclave of bees. Somehow it reminded me of that famous quilt where the woman had a picture of a graveyard and on the edges were names or markers with names of people, and as they died she would move them into the central graveyard. Mark and/or I walk almost daily in the cemetery down the street from our house since it is such a nice place to take our dog. As newcomers to the town, I don't know any of the people buried there, but I walk by their graves and read their names, and the dates of their death, and sometimes of their birth, and honor their presence, and their passing. Walking the raspberry lanes today was a quiet, private time and I kept thinking each berry was like the millions of people that inhabit the world today. Similar but unique; ripening at their own pace so within a clump of berries only a few could be picked; a burst of joy, and then gone. I hope Rob and Patricia have included the berries that never get weighed into their pricing--the ones that fell to the ground and the ones that fell into my belly.

Blueberries almost ripe at Sunshine Valley

By early August the blueberries will be ripe, and I will return to Sunshine Valley and pick a bucket full. Last summer Mark and I went and we froze most of them, and enjoyed them during the winter. So if I get my jam making down, this year we can have both frozen ones (great with oatmeal) as well as jam.

By the way, I did start work this week. I am tying a silk warp to the black and white tencel on the TC-1. For some reason, it is taking me forever. I am going from the 15 dent reed back to the 30 dent reed. I made a cross in front of the 15 dent reed, and placed the 30 dent reed in the grove above the 15 dent reed, and am moving them from bottom reed to top, by twos, and then tying knots, following color. Somehow my mind keeps saying I am doing something wrong, but I am not sure. I am wondering if I am crossing the ends and when I am all done if I will have to redent because of that? I hope I am wrong since seeing the dents in the 30 dent reed is impossible with my trifocals. Basically I have to wear my glasses to choose the threads, then I have to push my glasses up so I can see the dents without the glasses, then I have to put the glasses back to choose the next two ends. For relief I am going to one of my macomber looms which is threaded with a thick cotton and weaving dishtowels--plain weave with a band of turned twill blocks at each edge.

My garden continues to inspire me every day.

Asian Lilies in my garden

Chicago Goodbyes

Day Lilies near Millennium Park

Each morning and afternoon I tried to vary my walk between apartment and school, though often it took me through Millennium Park. Yesterday I noticed this cluster of day lilies was in spectacular bloom, and it was a marker of the passage of time that I have been in Chicago. Three weeks earlier there weren't even noticeable buds on the lilies. I felt it was like a metaphor for my class. Many of the students had never dressed a loom before we began, and now they were all busy weaving. They certainly bloomed in these three weeks.

Joan Livingstone and Park Chambers on the ramp of the New Wing of the Chicago Art Institute

If you visit Chicago be sure and make time to visit the New Wing of the Chicago Art Institute. The collection of modern art shows very well in this new space. It also has a wonderful restaurant, and I had lunch there yesterday with Joan Livingstone and Park Chambers. They were colleagues in the Fibers and Material Studies Department at SAIC for many years, though right now Joan is Interim Dean of Undergraduate Studies and Park has retired and moved to New York State. They have both contributed much to the expansion of thinking in fiber studies and work, and are mentors to many artists. I could hardly eat my meal from excitement, but did manage to finish all my dessert and taste theirs too. Joan was wearing the best eyeglasses.

Final jacquard cloth from SAIC class cut off loom today

So today was the final class and I cut off the fabric from the TC-1 while students finished weaving and hemming, or knotting, or twisting ends. In the afternoon we did a final review where each student put up all the work they accomplished in these three weeks. I took a digital image of each of them and their work, and tried to get some details too. I have decided that when I get home I will do a slideshow of the images I took during the class and post a link to it in this blog. Believe me, they all did incredible work, and each one distinct from the others. At the end, one of them took a picture of me holding the plain weave linen that I wove. Although I am ready to go home and can't wait to see Mark, our pets, and our friends, I felt so emotional saying goodbye to these wonderful women who allowed me the privilege to work with them these past three weeks. In a regular semester you don't get to know people in the same way as we did because of the format of the summer program. I don't know if any of them will continue to weave as a major expression of their art (I wish I had a crystal ball), but I do know that the metaphor of blooming lilies is a good one for what happened in this class.

Tamara Malas showing her first ever weavings

Bhakti Ziek showing off the linen she wove

Birthday Cake

It's always a good morning when I return to bed with my cup of coffee and read. It's a sign of relaxation and leisure. This morning I noticed that the leaves on the trees almost obliterate the neighboring houses and I am left with a view of the hill behind town that reminds me of the view from the bedroom of our former home in New Mexico. I always felt that hill was a protection, and watching the morning sun hit it and turn it golden was always a thrill. Selling that place, with a house that we built ourselves with great effort and hope, was emotionally difficult, and I think I managed it by denying my attachment. So it seems that as I settle joyfully into Vermont, I can relax my internal walls, and allow memories of New Mexico to return. I remember when I studied psychology in the '60's how taken I was by the theory of cognitive dissonance. Upon making a decision, one is at first overcome by the sense that you made the wrong choice, and then that quickly is replaced by a firmer conviction that you indeed made the right choice. So now I feel safe enough to allow good memories of New Mexico to return without it threatening our decision to move to Vermont.

I wanted to post pictures of my weft-backed double weave for days, but I didn't want my friend Sara Tucker to see, because I wove her a birthday cake. Yesterday, after the opening of Into the Woods, we had a joint gemini party. You can see her and her sister Martha holding the weaving below, as well as strawberry shortcake. 

Sara Tucker (r) and her sister Martha holding Sara's birthday cake weaving

I actually gave Sara the weaving earlier in the day, and she put it on the back of a chair as a display for everyone to see at the party. It amazed me how it fit perfectly, and suddenly I really could conceive of a furniture collaboration with Mark--something he has been interested in for a long time. I don't know how long it will take for that to take shape, but probably now that I can visualize it, it has a chance to happen.

Sara's Birthday Cake weaving on display for party

I also wove a birthday cake for my Aunt Bess' party, which will take place August 30th. She is going to be 100! I don't think Bess is reading this blog, so she probably won't see the weaving until her party, but if she is, then she can look forward to seeing it in person. I am posting both the front and back of her weaving, so you can see how different they are. I wove both birthday cakes face down, so I saw the colorful floats develop, not the sharp definition of the front. Both these weavings made me very happy. Pleased by the complicated structure that made the imagery possible, pleased by the thought that I was giving them to specific people who make my life better, and pleased by the silliness of them, which seemed perfect as a birthday present. At the party, my other friends lined up to tell me when their birthdays are coming, so they too can get these cakes. 

Front of Aunt Bess' Birthday Cake weaving

Back of Aunt Bess' Birthday Cake weaving

And besides having a pot luck with good friends and the most delicious food, much of which came from recipes in Deborah Madison's book, I received a wonderful old collapsible wooden ruler from the Sacca/Billings and an intriguing collage from Laurie Sverdlove, who co-curated Into the Woods with Dian Parker. They are pictured with Tom Batey (who did the card) below. I took this picture before the opening, which is good, because the gallery was packed for the next few hours and all my pictures just show backs of people. The show was appreciated by all and the hard work these three people did was justly praised.   

Right to Left: Laurie Sverdlove, Dian Parker, and Tom Batey, standing at side of Laurie's painting just before opening of Into the Woods 

So what was I reading this morning? Flatbreads & Flavors by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. I haven't cooked from it yet, but I will. They are travellers and cooks and I relate to their writing. I go through phases where I stop reading and stop cooking, and life is a little duller for the lack of these activities. Getting ready for the opening and party got me in the kitchen, and eating Holly's foccacia with Liz's green cheese spread and Mark's lentil soup made me want to find more delicious recipes. Tonight I am going to try Alford and Duguid's Pizza with Rosemary and Garlic, and add the rest of the onion filling from Madison's book that didn't go into the empanadas. Ahh, good living! And just look at the poppies in our garden. 

Perennial Gardens

Standing Stone Perennial Farm in S. Royalton, Vermont

Lynne Hall, co-owner of Standing Stone Perennial Farm

I had another wonderful Vermont experience today. Our friend Holly Walker, who is such a wonderful potter, is also an incredible gardener. For months she has been telling us about a wonderful perennial farm nearby, and this morning she took Mark and I there. Standing Stone Perennial Farm was all that she had told us and more. We met co-owner Lynne Hall, pictured above, who went and got the paint buckets of actual paint used on her house so we could copy the numbers exactly. Mark has been spending hours each day at the Benjamin Moore site trying out colors that might work on our house, and Holly is doing the same, and we all responded to the colors Lynne has on her house. Then we walked the gardens and felt deep joy from the beauty of this place.

Holly and Mark at Standing Stone Perennial Farm, note color of house behind them

Holly came over the other day and walked our garden pointing out names of everything. She had already done this once, when leaves were just peeping out of the earth and everything looked identical to me. Now even I can see the differences. I had a paper where I had diagrammed the garden and now I adjusted labels, but made a mistake and wrote names from one area on a different page, and it was a mess. So I decided I would take my digital camera and photograph the garden instead. I do remember my mother, who loved gardening (and made me and my siblings do much of the weeding), starting in winter with catalogs and drawings and complex plans of color shifts and areas of constant bloom. The idea of doing the record keeping with digital images seemed so 21st century to me. Then Mark made a joke about me weaving the garden plan and it seemed so absolutely right that I am going to do it. I took tons of photos of the garden, panning from section to section, and then returning to do individual plants. Years ago I had purchased a Native American dye chart in New Mexico where they had swatches of woven cloth in the center and lines out to plant specimens on the sides. I figure my weaving will be some variation of that with overall plan and then identifying closeups. 

"My" Perennial Garden

Heuchera Micrantha (Palace Purple) in "my" garden

Yesterday I stopped to talk to our neighbor, Kelly Green, who was working in her perennial garden, and mentioned that I had taken digital images of the garden and was planning to print it out and label each plant. So Kelly sent me the following link to show me what she has done. It is brilliant. She uses Flickr though and I don't think Picasso has this cool ability to add notes when you hover over an image. I probably will just do mine in Photoshop. Then I can keep going and work on it as an image for weaving.

So walking through the gardens with Holly was a bit like walking in a foreign country, hearing language but not understanding a word. Proudly I could point to a few plants and mutter "Heuchera" or "Sedum--Autumn Joy" which showed I was paying attention the other day, and not all my brain cells have been fryed by playing too much solitaire on the computer. Because we plan to do exterior work on the house this summer, Mark got me to agree that we would only purchase something for the wooden barrel in our front yard (seems like all Vermont houses have these wooden barrels). So this morning was more about future additions to the garden. We did end up with a beautiful grass (Helictotrichon or Blue Oat Grass) that we can transplant to soil in the fall. Perhaps we have started a new tradition--each year we can get something for that barrel that will then get incorporated into the garden. Over time, with experience, maybe I can even call it my garden instead of "my" garden.

At my Open Studio next weekend Holly and Liz and I are going to premier our table setting collaboration. Please come and see it, and enjoy the walk around "my" perennial garden.