I wish my weaving could merge into the rough fissured bark of the century (at least) white pine. I don't try to copy what I see. It's usually after I've woven something, that I see what I have been looking at.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
uphill
I wish my weaving could merge into the rough fissured bark of the century (at least) white pine. I don't try to copy what I see. It's usually after I've woven something, that I see what I have been looking at.
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12 comments:
oh, yes! that's it exactly. because you look and look and see it appears in your work!
Hi Susan,
Your photos are evocative (as always), and I especially like the one showing your weaving resting against the tree trunk.
P.S. What amazing-looking seedpods.
I miss you, I miss the hill and the shop and Dan and nature woven into rugs. OOO
velma, it's the truth, isn't it. Sometimes I feel like I must be blind half the time
wb, Thank you. I'm not sure, but that clematis might be an invasive. To my eye, this weave is a continuation of the bark, which, when I saw it, absolutely made my day
sara, I thought of you on this walk! I hope you'll come back here to live. The old McDonald's buying club has become the best co-op, there are artists galore moving in, and it's still beautiful + affordable to live here. I know, you know
Absolutely gorgeous, Susan! Each and every image! Thank you....Gloria
such delicate autumn details and thoughtful observations. lovely work, as always.
oh this is so true! I once wove a piece and then realized what I'd woven looked exactly like my neighbors shed...which also happened to be the view from my loom. I'm glad this also happens to others...
susan--re the seed heads--what ARE they??? i always forget, even have made paper with them. menopausal brain works sieve-like.
Those wild clematas are beautiful - would love to draw them. The colours in your work are gorgeous - I sometimes think we absorb lots of things out there are then later realise what we have actually been taking in.
The clematis is stunning! And of course your weaves are too. I once knew of an artist who knitted sweaters for trees. so sweet.
Your work is gorgeous!
thanks, all, for such encouraging words!
shipbuilding: Ha, ha. i can imagine weaving the side of the shed without being aware of where the image was coming from. No doubt that image making starts in unconscious thought, day - dreams
kathryn, or the artist who stretches crochet lace around tree limbs and trunks, and the knit artists tagging urban street signs
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