Congatulations, it's a...

Liv — Sat, 03 May 2008 06:29:00 +0000

bouncing baby…no, not girl, not boy…it’s a LOOM! I am not sure what color balloon I am supposed to hang on my mailbox announcing the happy arrival of something that is 36 inches wide, weighs 155 pounds, and is made of metal and wood. Yet here he - or she, sits in the middle of my family room floor begging for attention like any new family member. Not-so-little Leclerc, model name Nilus to be specific, is a handsome “child” made of kiln-dried, Canadian hard maple and sporting four-harnesses. Built in the 1980s, he is hardly a newborn, and he has a few signs of wear. His bench is a little wobbly and the seat is scratched. (I can identify with his condition!) This is his third home. However, overall, he is a sturdy piece of equipment that should be with us for a long time as long as he is given a moderate amount of good care. I intend to do my best to be a good parent.

This was an “unplanned pregnancy” of sorts. I had no intention of buying a loom at this point in my life as I was focusing on other craft projects. Yet, when I received an email from a friend who knew someone selling a loom due to a move to a smaller home, I was immediately intrigued. The price was right. How could I NOT look at it since I had wanted to learn to weave for over fifteen years? Having taken a weaving class many years ago whetted my appetite for making my own textiles, but being newly married I was not able to afford a loom at the time. Instead of a loom, I satisfied my fiber fetish by working in a fabric store and buying way too much fabric, much to my dear husband’s chagrin.

A few days later, a friend and I took a trip to see “Nilus,” who looked rather forlorn in the loft above the barn where he was stored. I brought a friend who weaves so she could give me her opinion about the loom. While she and the loom’s owner reviewed the different parts of the machinery with me, mentioning terms that were somewhat familiar but long lost in distant memory, I nodded in approval. As the warm, late afternoon sunlight streamed in over Nilus’ dusty, caramel-colored frame, I realized that seeing the loom was just a formality; I had secretly come with the intention of bringing it home with me. I even had a check in my pocket. Within a few minutes I heard a voice that sounded surprisingly like mine saying, “Yes, I’ll take it. When can I come to get it?” After a week of waiting, we had a loom at our doorstep. I feel a new craft addiction coming on.

The excitement of birthing a new creative outlet, like any new romance, offers a high that is hard to match. I am drawn to the flush of new artistic love. Although I am a very consistent marriage partner, I am a fickle lover when it comes to my craft supplies. Any handsome piece of fabric or shiny new bead cap can turn my head. I’ll leave my familiar boxes upon boxes of remnants and findings in an instant for the smooth, seductive feel of a fresh roll of chenille, or the mesmerizing sparkle of new glass beads. While constructing a pair of earrings with my trusty pliers, I’ll turn away from my work for a moment only to spy the corner of deep red, paisley brocade peeking out from within a pile of future projects under my sewing machine cabinet. “I would make a stunning bag if only you’d take me out,” this handsome textile beckons with a come-hither look. I am hooked and I start dreaming of sewing rather than wrapping wire.

Like any parent, I won’t commit to having a favorite amongst my crafting “children,” but the newest members always tend to get more attention. I know that once I start learning to weave and start spending more time with the loom, my old tools will feel like ignored older siblings after the birth of the latest child. But they can rest assured that, after awhile, I’ll come back to them, refreshed and revitalized by my latest creative adventure, and ready to love them, through the joys and frustrations, for all the unique qualities that they bring to my crafting family and to my life.

Jumping Into the Stream

Liv — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 05:58:00 +0000

How I Muddled My Way Here

Everybody’s doing it these days, and I am thinking about doing it too. For every generation, the phrase “everybody’s doing it” meant something different and sometimes something illicit or something your parents didn’t want you to do. My mother used say, “Just because everyone’s doing it doesn’t mean you have to. If everybody jumped off bridges, would you do that too?” Well, of course not, and mom knew her point was well-taken. But sometimes something comes along that is more than a fad; it’s a change in cultural viewpoint that is really interesting and worthy of consideration. So why is everybody blogging and should I do it too?

If you don’t spend a lot of time on a computer these days and don’t know what a blog is, I’ll bring you up to speed. A blog is short for “web log” and is a personal journal made public by placing it on a website for everyone to read. Some blogs allow readers to make comments on the journal entries, which may consist of everything from what someone eats for breakfast every day, to deep philosophical ruminations on the nature of life. Blogs often include photographs and links to other blogs, or links to websites that the author finds interesting. I have recently been reading the blogs of handcrafters and artists as inspiration for my own resurging creative endeavors. I have truly enjoyed reading about their current projects and the sources of their ideas. Many of the pictures they share are zen-like in color and design simplicity, and I love to look at them over and over again because they soothe my soul. I have also been drawn into the artisans’ lives, hopes and dreams through this diary-like format. Reading the entries is like hopping on someone else’s stream-of-consciousness; I even see bits and pieces of my own life reflected here and there. Like a soap opera, I am anxious to tune in tomorrow to see what enlightening or exciting tidbits the latest journal entry will hold.

As readers comment on the blog, and the bloggers link to each other’s sites, a community begins to form, a community that somehow chips away at the voids in our social spheres left by locked doors, long work weeks, and dwindling neighborhood conviviality. Technology has both pushed us apart and bridged the distant parts of the globe in the same momentous blink of time. It is partially a longing for community that drives me to want to share myself in the world of blogging. “Belonging” and “blogging” seem somehow related. Wouldn’t it be strange to come across a blog written by the woman next door who you never see? Or maybe a distant relative is blogging about wanting to find you and your family, and you stumble upon it by chance…or was it chance after all?

I did an online search for “blog” and I got 2,640,000,000 results. There certainly is something happening out there with all these blogs going on. Is it just too much mental static? Will it all fade away when a new internet fad comes along? Or is this a way that the universal mind is linking us all together? Of course, for me, not all blogs are worth reading, just as not all of my thoughts are worth writing. Many blogs do not resonate in a wavelength that matches my own; some are just plain boring and some are really odd. A few are strangely disturbing. However, there are plenty of blogs in the digital universe that expand my thinking and make my mind work a little harder. They pick up on a train of thought that I had yesterday, or the week before, and I am re-engaged in contemplation, perhaps with new light shed on my ideas.

This technological explosion of cranial activity made public has removed the veils that keep our thoughts private. We are inundated with the random thoughts of people we don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I am in a movie in which the main character can suddenly hear the thoughts of total strangers. Is that a good thing? At the end of the movie, we usually find out that the hero would rather not know; he’s overwhelmed with too much information. He’d rather be blissfully unaware of what others think of him and themselves because knowing everything leads to uncomfortable situations. Yet there is a key difference here: We make the choice to read or write a blog. It is completely up to us if we want to spill our guts or keep them sucked in, if we want to dive into the thought-stream or stay on shore. We can post every day or only when inspiration strikes. We can choose to let out as much or as little of ourselves as we want, perhaps only allowing flashing glimpses of our inner workings to emerge for general consumption.

So, by now, you may be asking if I decided to blog or not. Well, I haven’t decided yet if the glaring light of the internet is too bright for me and my ponderings. I am not sure if I want everyone to see the real me in all my blemished glory. I could write just a little; the writer in me is itching to get going. Maybe nobody would read it anyway. Ok, I’ll just create an account at a free blogging site and then decide if I want to “do it” like everyone else. Oh, oh, I am stuck at username. What shall I use? What ID do I want to assume? What image do I want to project? What do I want to say about myself? Who am I and why do I exist? What is the nature of the universe? Oops, went a little too deep there. Let’s just back up to username for now. I write down a few name combinations but nothing seems to capture what I want to express. That’s probably because I haven’t yet figured out who I am. Every day brings a new facet of my personality to the top of the heap. I can’t commit to just one.

Perhaps I’ll wait for the universe to send me an inspired sign as to which name I should pick. It’s been a few days and nothing is happening. I think I am getting an “out to lunch” signal from the powers that be. I decide to brew another pot of tea, clean the bathrooms (now I know I have reached a point of desperation), and think about the username for a little while. It would be nice if I could write a blog without having to decide on a persona. After all, my inner life wasn’t built in a day. A lot of things about me emerge from my writing, like the indecision and fear of commitment that is peeking out right now. Looking back on the words I’ve just written, I guess I already have my first blog entry done. Now if you should hear back from the universe about my username while I am away from the computer, could you let me know? Email is fine, or you could relay it to me the old-fashioned way, by talking. Or better yet, maybe you could blog it and we’ll all jump off the bridge together. Come on, everybody’s doing it.

The Filigree Garden

Congatulations, it's a...

Jumping Into the Stream