Stripes, with dashing bits. The greens are for Brid on her day, and the yellows for Spring approaching. It snowed furiously this morning, but the afternoon sun melted it away. The brown on top is for the German in me, because the groundhog is still underground. And besides, when I picked up the other colors, it hung on for dear life, the little brown butterfly of wool, and wouldn’t let go.
Today at work everything that should have been easy became mysteriously tortuous and labyrinthine, and I said to a colleague that it felt like swimming through peanut butter.
I should point out I have never actually tried swimming through peanut butter, and also that I buy the softer, more liquid natural brands. Anyway, when I got home and faced the loom (and answered the “no, I’m too tired; it’s all right; I don’t have to” inner voice with a pleasant “no, I *don’t* have to, but I am going to”), I wondered how one weaves the sensation of swimming through, well, anyway.
The literal picture wasn’t going to cut it.
The key is the idea of texture: crunchy or smooth, if you will. So tonight’s weaving is very hard to photograph properly at night with a flash. There are different textures arising from the juxtaposition of bouclé yarn in all its curls against very smooth yarns, and from the juxtaposition of flat-woven lines of each against lines woven in soumak. The soumak detail is what I can’t get in this photo. I can see it in the pale green because I know it’s there, but in the current light I can’t get enough of a close-up to show the variation. [The photo is also driving me nuts because the flash gave a ghost of warp under the flat, smooth pale blue on the top, and when you look at it with the human eye you don’t see that at all.] If you care to learn more, there is a clear and easy description of soumak here.
I ate the peanut butter when I got home, for dinner. Creamy. On toast, with locally made triple berry jelly. Take that, powers of confusion and stress.
Yesterday, cool, watery hatching. Today, hot stripes.
Things look a bit uneven, but this is temporary and due to the “built” nature of the tapestry. As areas around each section fill in, the section settles and is beat in evenly.
It’s a little like memory. It changes shape and takes its proper place in context.
What will tomorrow bring? And will the cat ever forgive me for ignoring her after I come home from work?