People often ask me what inspires me, where I get my design ideas from.  Rarely am I able to give a precise or coherent answer, other than that the hand-dyed yarns I work with are themselves the starting point.  And then there’s this ~

And this ~

And also this ~

As I write, it’s a lovely sunny afternoon with a pleasant breeze.  I look out windows to the west and see at least five varieties of bamboo, several Japanese Maples, and tall Douglas Firs behind them.  From the window to my right, I survey, past the triple trunks of a large Western Red Cedar, at least eight Japanese Maples in colors ranging from bright yellow-green to deep burgundy, with different foliage shapes on each.  Past them and above is a bright blue sky and more tall Douglas  Firs.  The breeze is moving everything gently, and the shiny young leaves reflect the sunlight.  It’s mesmerizing; this is what surrounds me indoors and out.

Is this garden my inspiration?  No.  It isn’t.  But it’s certainly the context within which I live and do my work, so it somehow relates – intangibly and secretly — to the work itself.

The longer vistas are often what please me the most, especially at this most lush time of the year; the combinations of colors and textures in all the vegetation (much of it quite rare in local gardens) is certainly an expression of aspects of my aesthetic.

But direct inspiration? No.  And yet, there’s a relationship.  When I move in close, I always find some of my favorite combinations of colors, and paying attention to the play of textures and shapes is enormously satisfying ~

Dicentra spectablis ‘Gold Heart’

Acer palmatum ‘Villa Taranto’

Weigela ‘Rubidor’ and Fagus sylvatica purpurea

Trochodendron aralioides in flower

Clematis ‘Kiri Te Kanawa’ , no-name tree peony in bud, Physocarpus ‘Diabolo’

Acer ginnala ‘Flame’ flowering

Iris confusa ‘Chengdu’ (Bamboo Iris)

Acer griseum

These vignettes, a select few from this large garden, always speak to me, and rest in my visual memory.  Surely they nurture and inform the work I do at my looms in some subterranean way. Even more surely the entire garden enriches my sense of color, texture and pattern as they play out in the natural world.

Three months since I last wrote, knowing time was drifting past me, yet reluctant to sit for long at the computer.  It really is Spring at last, lush and intensely green.  My garden is a glory, its best time of year.  Only a couple of hints in these photos; the rest of the new ones are in the process of migrating to the cloud (wherever that is!).  Proof that the wild ones like it here too ~

Every winter, I think I’m going to get heaps of new work completed; in fact, that used to be the case.  But this year, like the last few, I set myself up with more complex work than usual, so in fact it goes slower than I anticipate.  Images below are from the Aurora series of scarves, with two hand-dyed yarns in the warp and elaborate patterning.  (In the interest of keeping this short, I’m holding back on showing photos of additional work in progress.  Next time!)

Three sections of the same scarf below. Lots of color changes in the hand-dyed yarn.  Hence “Aurora”.

I’ll be back soon.  I promise. Lots more to show you.

It’s a beautiful sunny day at the end of the month, after days of rain and murk.  A joy indeed.  A couple of months ago, I took some  of my best recent work to Stadler Studio in Langley to have Michael shoot good photos (instead of my process photos taken on the loom).  The results give a good sense of the character of the cloth, the drape, texture and shimmer, in addition to the colors and patterns.  Enjoy the eye candy!

“Kiku” series ~

“Tis The Season” series ~

“Summer’s End” series ~

“Caramel Apple” series ~

“Willow Pond” throw ~

“Elijah’s Blanket” series throw ~

That’s it for today.  I’m working my way back into more frequent posting, and with sustained work at the looms lately, there is plenty to show and write about.  Here’s to February!

It’s been an unconscionably long time since I last wrote here.  I can only explain the lapse by saying that it’s been a year fraught with distractions, to which I have been uncommonly (for me) susceptible.  Still, there remains at this tag-end of the year the sense that I’ve done good work, embarked on some new directions, and widened my influence in the world of weaving.  I am not dissatisfied..

Writing at this late moment of the year gives me the perfect platform also to declare my intention to go back to writing here regularly, and to broaden the range of what I write about.  The sub-head of this blog is “an ongoing  discussion of one weaver’s life”; my tendency in the past has been to keep the focus on my weaving, with only rare forays into the garden or onto a road trip.  I’m going to expand that scope to include more aspects of my life, without being at all sure at this juncture what that will look like.  I reckon we’ll all be surprised.

Following is a slim selection of photographs from the past several months, each group headed with a brief explanatory note.  If you want to know more about any of these items, drop me a note in the comments section below, and I’ll respond promptly.

Weaving ~

There are plenty more pieces in each series, especially in that last one, if you want to see additional photos.

The Garden ~

That last one  may be a bit startling.  We had, for the first time in many years, a white Christmas.  I took plenty of pictures, but you’ll have to wait till later in the week to see them.  I took hundreds of photos in the last few months with my phone, and only this evening realized that I hadn’t thrown them into Dropbox.  They’re uploading even now (it seems to be an interminable process), so are not yet available to me there.  Frustrating.  Much of what I had intended to show you now will appear in a retrospective soon.

The fireworks have begun in the neighborhood, even though it’s still two and a half hours till midnight.  But it’s well past the turning of the year on the East Coast of the U.S.A., and in most of the rest of the world, so I’ll wish you a richly satisfying and interesting year ahead and take myself off to bed.  Till soon……

It’s been uncommonly dry here on Whidbey Island, with no appreciable rain since (I think) before June.  Very different from the norm, when we have reliable rain till after Independence Day.  By then, the browning of fields and lawns was well underway, and my garden has been thirsty for easily two months.  You can imagine how much hose-hauling and pot-watering I’ve been engaged in.  I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to our rainy season, which probably won’t start till well into October.

Still, I’ve managed to eke out some weaving.  Proof follows, with minimal narrative.  The Whidbey Working Artists Summer Open Studio Tour (www.whidbeyworkingartists.com) takes place August 26 and 27, so I’m down to the wire on finishing up new work and loading up the looms with fresh warps for visitors to see.

Phoenix Rising scarves ~

The warp for these is a very fine cotton, the wefts fine tencel or bamboo.

#1 ~

#2 ~

#3 ~

And an inside look at the orderliness of the loom and threads, because I love it so ~

Elijah’s Blanket ~ My second great-nephew was born in March, and a promised blanket for him took far longer than I’d anticipated.  The process is something called double width double weave, where two layers are woven simultaneously, open on one side and closed on the other.  When it comes off the loom, it’s twice as wide as it was on the loom.  (Think of a sheet of paper folded in half, then opened up to full width.)  The trick is not to have the two layers joined anywhere except at the fold, and not to have a visible line of crowded threads at the center of the opened-out fabric.

At the back of the loom ~

There are five yarns in this warp, all cotton, two hand-dyed and three commercial pearl cottons in different weights.  The weft is a fine cotton.  There is enough warp still on the loom for three throws, each one of which will be different.

At the center of the finished blanket ~

A poor photo, but it shows the overall flow of color and pattern ~

And Elijah finds it to be …….. delicious!

Kiku scarves ~

This is a fine hand-dyed tencel warp, the first on my new AVL V-series loom. The wefts are either fine bamboo or fine pearl cotton.

#1 ~

#2 ~

#3 ~

With the exception of Elijah’s blanket, these and much more will be available for purchase at the Open Studio Tour, where you’ll also be able to see the computer-assisted looms in action and tour the garden.  The deer aren’t likely to be present.

For several months, I’ve been more inclined to weave than to write, so the finished work has been accumulating, as have the photographs.  This post is an attempt to somewhat catch up to where I am now, so there will be lots of pictures and only a relatively minor amount of verbiage.  If you have questions about any of what you see, please comment below, and I promise to respond promptly.

First off, a series of my designer kitchen towels, in colors unusual for the purpose.  This began as an idea for a Christmas gift for my friend Chet Sulgrove, a musician and composer, who had just bought a stunning new black guitar, and needed a unique “guitar rag” (as he calls them) that would coordinate with the new instrument.  The one pictured above is what I designed for him, liberally patterned with X’s and O’s to remind him of my fondness.  The rest of the run of nine were woven over the next month or so, repeating the same three patterns with each of three weft colors (black, medium grey, and silver grey).  I named this series Winterdawn.  Not all are pictured below.

The photos above show all three patterns woven with black, which was the most dramatic.  The two greys are more subtle and quiet.

The last  one above is woven with the silver grey; compare it with the one immediately above it.  Same pattern, but visibility is reduced.

Finally, I squeezed out one final somewhat skimpy towel (number 10) at the end of the warp, woven with black and a new pattern.  I think it’s spectacular.

About half of these beauties are still available for purchase; please contact me if you’re interested.

Next up, a series of experimental pieces, all in undyed cotton, rayon, tencel, bamboo.

No name for this crowd; they’ll go to a friend of mine for dyeing using a variety of techniques and multiple layered colors.  I’ve played off different fibers against each other, partly so we can see how the colors “take” differently on each.

These are difficult to photograph, due to the lack of contrast in the warp and weft yarns; getting just the right angle with the light and the cloth is an exercise in patience.

Each of these has a different weft yarn, and a different pattern.  It was a pleasure to play around with all the changes, watching how the different elements interacted without the aspect of color entering into the equation.

This is the second group of these white-on-white pieces I’ve done in the last six months; there will likely be two more before year’s end, each substantially different from this batch and the first one.  It’s a reminder to me of how vast are the possibilities available with the simple process of threads intersecting at right angles to each other.

The use of a very bumpy, shiny rayon thread in the warp makes this series more interesting than it might otherwise have been; that rayon will absorb the dye excellently, so the colors will be intense, accentuating the textural effect.

After this crowd, I whipped out Terrarose, a series of three scarves on a hand-dyed bamboo warp.  As usual, I changed the weft yarn and the patterning for each one, and for two of these, aimed for quiet subtlety.  The colors are warm and soft, the patterns more complex than they appear at first glance, and the drape and flow of the finished cloth is delectable.

You may be able to see that the pattern is asymmetrical, one of my favorite design practices.

These three scarves are available for purchase, along with quite a few others.  My next Open Studio Day is Saturday, July 8; you can see them here at my studio, and take your favorite home with you.  I also invite you to take a self-guided garden tour (see previous blog post for enticement), which will give you an idea of where some of my inspiration arises, and where some of my design aesthetic has played out.

It has been a particularly lush Spring here on Whidbey Island, after what I’m told was a wetter-than-normal Winter, with enough cold spells to kill many nasty bugs and to energize most of the trees and shrubs.  It’s a good week for a stroll around the garden, so I thought you’d like to come along with me.

Welcome.  This is what we see as we come through the garden gate (which is crowned with masses of Dutch Honeysuckle not yet in bloom) ~

The primary feature of this garden, which takes up most of the half-acre lot, is foliage.  Many colors, textures, shapes, and densities.  It was planned to have as much four-season interest as possible, so there’s also the feature of beautiful bark and structure on many of the trees and some of the shrubs, as well as quite a lot of bamboo (about 40 species and cultivars) which in this climate is evergreen.  At the left of the above photo is a tall green-stemmed timber bamboo called ‘Vivax’, and at the other end of the garden is a gold-stemmed one.  Both are invasive and require vigilant control.

Now for a bit of floriferousness, at its best this time of year.  I’ll give you names where I know them, but many things long since lost their tags, and I no longer fret about not knowing.  The little rose above is one of a small collection of miniatures I’ve placed on the front steps; it’s the first to bloom, but the others are hot on its pretty heels.

That’s a cultivar of Iris confusa, an unusual species that prefers dryish part-shade.  They’re a bit shy, and the foliage often looks rather ratty, but the flowers, though not showy, are beautifully marked and formed.

Clematis ‘Ville de Lyon’.  I think.  In the background, Baptisia ‘Twilight Prairie Blue’ almost ready to burst into bloom.

Clematis with forgotten name growing through a shrub rose.

It’s fragrant.  All my roses are (except the miniatures), otherwise why have them?

This exquisite iris was a surprise when it showed up a few days ago.  I don’t know what it’s called, and I can’t remember where or when I got it.  And I love it.

This is the first hanging tender fuchsia I’ve had in over 30 years.  Maybe more.  It’s the sweetest thing, and the hummingbirds are frequent visitors.

The property is entirely (except for two fancy iron gates) surrounded by a six-foot fence composed of wire interwoven with bamboo poles.  It’s a perfect support for scores of climbing viney plants, chief among them a number of Clematis, both species and hybrids.

This beauty is ‘Multi-Blue’; it blooms double like this early, and usually again late in the Summer as a single.  Rarely heavy with flowers, but oh so special.

One of the Polish clematis hybrids. Very floriferous, very happy, with its feet in shade and its head in the sun.

A blowzy, fragrant, unnamed yellow tree peony reaching through the fence, accompanied by Clematis ‘Kiri Te Kanawa’.

Up close and personal with the tree peony.  Luscious creature!

A look at the canopy in the northeast corner as we leave through the gate.  The Dogwood grove is coming into full bloom, the Vivax towers in the rear, the golden leaves of Acer palmatum ‘Katsura’ glow to the right, and in the foreground a romp of wisteria and honeysuckle cover the fence almost completely, while a few Gingko leaves nudge their way into view on the left.

Thanks for coming along.  In a few days, we’ll have a look at some of the work I’ve been doing during the Spring, while the garden has been burgeoning.

It’s been an unconscionably long time since I showed up here.  The second half of Summer, all of Autumn, and half of Winter have passed through and around me; finally I’m settling back into the quiet time of year when writing and thinking takes precedence over worky-worky.  It’s a relief.

I completed a record amount of work in 2016, some of which you’ve seen.  Today I’m giving you a lot of photos which show some of the rest though not all.  If you’re interested in purchasing something, contact me in a comment, and I’ll reply via email if you give me the address.  You can also find me on Facebook; look for RainShadow Textiles.

Here’s to a productive, satisfying, active year for us all.

(It occurs to me, as I look at the above photos, that all those pieces and others in the same series, are sold.)

The above white-on-white series are part of a collaboration I’m working on with another weaver/dyer.  They are not for sale, but if the idea of this kind of subtlety tickles your fancy, I can certainly do something like them as a special order.

The two pieces above are part of a series of three scarves, in rayon and tencel.  Shimmering and fluid.  All available.

The first of the above three was a custom table runner; the other two (more clearly different in reality) are scarves, a bit wider than the norm.  Rayon, tencel and hemp, with subtle texture and a lovely sheen.  Both are still available.

And to whet your appetite for the next time, there’s a new series of designer kitchen towels fresh off the loom.  Here’s a sneak preview ~

Till soon . . . .

One of the closely-held secrets of life on Whidbey Island is that the summers are generally quite wonderful.  Meteorology Professor Cliff Mass at the University of Washington says that July 9 is the true beginning of the season here, and my own observations tend to agree.  What that means is that visitors swarm here during July and August, when the chance of rain is astonishingly low and the likelihood of sunshine on any given day is close to 100%.  (We try never to share this information.)  Tourists, families, friends, relatives, curious explorers —  we see roughly double the normal population through the weeks of these two months.

Historically, there has been little of that impinging on my own life, but this year has so far been an exception to that pattern.  The past few weeks have been quite the mad social whirl — sister and niece for several days, then a short respite, friends from Florida for a few days, another short respite, and friends from British Columbia this past week.  And while none of them have stayed with me, still the process of juggling visiting and normal daily life has slashed away at loom time.  Nonetheless, there’s been sporadic action on the weaving front, with something to show for it.

This run of ten designer towels is named “Good Vibrations”, for reasons which may or may not be apparent.  It began as a discussion last fall with Kathrin Weber (Blazing Shuttles dyer) about weaving her a towel that would echo the colors in her North Carolina kitchen.  Eventually, she dyed her signature ringspun cotton in those colors and sent two 200-thread warps off to me.  I was not enthusiastic about the colors, so the yarn sat for many weeks in a spot where I had to see it many times a day while I mulled over how I wanted to proceed.  Eventually the light dawned.  For accent, I added in a thick/thin mercerized cotton in a clear burgundy which is close to the color of Kathrin’s new wood stove, and at that point things finally became interesting.

During the weeks when I was dithering, I designed a series of patterns to be used in this run of ten towels.  I call them Dancing Mountains, which actually refers to the threading sequence for the warp (lengthwise) threads.  The “line” in the draft (pattern) on the computer is similar to the jagged silhouette of a mountain range; the other half of the sequence simply turns the line upside down.  This gave me some interesting possibilities for patterns in the cloth which would “reflect” each other in reverse.  Hard to see in my photographs, since most of the weft (sideways) yarns I’m using blend with the warp.

Those who have read these narratives for some time will remember that I’m partial to random distribution of the accent yarns I place in the warp.  For this series, I made the design decision to combine both random and carefully planned placement of the burgundy yarn.  If you look closely at the photos, you’ll see that in the center section these threads are axially symmetrical, while in the outer sections they’re random.  It was quite the exercise to work that all out.

It was also quite the exercise to get the 10.5-yard warp consisting of three separate and significantly intertwined chains wound onto the back of the loom without breaking threads or tearing my hair.  Mission accomplished, and after the tension was adjusted and the whole thing took a nap overnight, the weaving began.

Overall progress has been slow, accomplished in fits and starts, but the homestretch is in sight.  My original plan was to weave half of the ten with a bright red, and the other half with a bright turquoise.  After the first few, I branched out — in the end, there will be two red, three turquoise, one navy, two silver, and two black.  Makes it a lot more interesting for me on a long warp like this, and more variety for purchasers to select from.

Contrary to my usual boredom toward the end of a series like this, I’ve stayed interested and excited as I go along.  Yesterday, I spent some time at the computer before beginning to weave, and designed two additional patterns on this threading, one of which I’ll use.  The other will be saved for another time, another application.  The combination of these strong colors, which seemed almost harsh to me at the outset, has become pleasing, thanks in great part to the areas of soft grey and warm magenta.

The last two will be woven with black and turquoise, respectively.  I expect you can see from the photos that — as is my norm — no two pieces are the same.  If you think any of them want to hang in your kitchen, or the kitchen of a friend, please let me know in the comments section below.  Kathrin gets first dibs; after that, it’s a free-for-all, and you wouldn’t want to miss out!