The pace of production that I’ve wanted for a long time to achieve appears finally to be close at hand. Turns out it depends on a number of factors meshing cooperatively and steadily; not sure why I’m feeling so surprised about that, and I’m certainly aware of a place in my mind that reminds me more than I like that it could all go to hell in a handbasket at any moment. I try — mostly successfully — to pay no attention to that dismal outlook.
On Thursday I delivered to Raven Rocks Gallery at Greenbank Farm two new scarves — the first of four in the “Flame” series.
The warp is a rough, earthy hand-dyed silk noil; the one on the left (#1) is woven with a doubled strand of very fine hand-dyed silk noil and has a crunchy substantive hand. The weft for the righthand one (#2) is a fine tencel, so the pattern, when the light hits it just right, shimmers in and out of view. I like that. Last evening I went to the First Friday gallery walk at the Farm, and enjoyed seeing people’s reaction to them. Also enjoyed seeing how the colors glow under the strong, angled gallery lighting. I took the above picture in my studio with my digital camera; I’m hoping to get Michael Stadler to shoot these and some other recent work before long.
Here’s the warp and the next scarf in process — it’s already about two-thirds done. The weft is a fine black wool wrapped with an even finer red metallic strand. The pattern is quite subtle, and the glitter of the metallic will help to accentuate it. I think.
Yes, it’s hard to see the pattern; trust me, it’s there. One repeat stretches for eleven inches, so the 72-inch (approximately) scarf won’t have many iterations. The fourth and final one will be woven with a bright red tencel — I’m looking forward to seeing the end of this warp. The next one will be a break from my norm — a creamy bamboo warp which will be woven with a tone-on-tone series of weft yarns.
Off to the house to make a dessert for dinner with friends. Tomorrow, if it quits raining, I’ll work in my vegetable garden and spend some time (rain or not) on the couch with a cat and a book. Bliss indeed.