Time & Space

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Within hours of the total eclipse (which was all that we’d hoped for and more!), my husband left on his merry way for a much-anticipated 10-day mountain bike adventure with buddies. About a nanosecond after the door closed behind him, I got out my day planner/journal to brainstorm for an extended stay-at-home “art residency”. When have I ever had such an impressive, relatively chore and commitment-free span of uninterrupted time to spend totally immersed in my practice – not to mention giving myself permission to ignore pretty much everything else?
Exactly never.

It’s been a wonderful 10 days!
I’ve made serious progress on a new “Full Bloom” piece, worked daily in my sketchbook – including life drawing sessions on Emma Carlisle’s Patreon – and have made a point to write every morning à la Julia Cameron (if you only knew how many years I’ve been meaning to try that).

I finally tackled Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act, visited 4 exhibitions, and had some lovely one-on-one time with several friends. I was able to take a serious bite out of my much-needed website update and began the initial experiments for a couple of new projects that I’ve been mulling over for weeks.

In the evening, I watched art documentaries: The Woodmans, Georgia O’Keeffe: By Myself, and several Waldemar Januszczak episodes on the Renaissance. My 4-legged studio assistant kept me on the straight and narrow by making sure I got out for two walks every day, rain or shine. And there has been time to just think!

Figure Drawing Luminance Pencil Faber-Castell Marker

It’s been a very sweet experience with the huge gift of a wiped-clean schedule that gave me the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, for as long as I wanted. It’s crazy how liberating that can be.

Glorious Clutter

Even so, I doubt I could keep up this pace forever and it will be so nice to have my husband home again tomorrow. But if you can swing it, I can’t recommend this experience enough. The benefits of a traditional art residency are many and I totally get that often, for many, the only way to achieve this kind of time and space is to leave home – which admittedly also carries the stimulation of being in a new and different space. But if the circumstances allow – even if for just a weekend, I would definitely encourage you to consider setting up a “residency” for yourself at home some time. You’ll love it.

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Here are several things worth sharing that crossed my path this week:

Maine Calling’s podcast episode on The Role of Art in Community. Be sure to check out Pamela Moulton and Peter Bruun’s websites to see their work.
We lost a shining star last Saturday when Faith Ringgold died at 93. Having only known of her painted art quilts, I was amazed to learn of her powerful early-career work. Holland Cotter’s April 15th NYTimes article “Faith Ringgold Perfectly Captured the Pitch of America’s Madness” highlights what a titan Ringgold was. This is a gift link so you should be able to access the article without encountering a paywall.
And finally, the two exhibits I’ve been part of: “Up & Down, In & Out: Embroidery and its Kin” and “Visions of Totality” are closing this weekend at Studio Place Arts and the Highland Center for the Arts, respectively. If you haven’t have a chance to visit in person, the following reviews will give you a nice flavor of both.

Seven Days, by Pamela Polston, April 10, 2024

7Days SPA Review

The Barre Montpelier Times Argus, by Mary Gow, April 6, 2024

Times Argus Banner Times Argus Visions of Totality Review

Feeling With The Eyes

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After reading Gretchen Rubin’s Life in Five Senses last year, I often find myself tuning-in to more than just one sense in a given situation.

Tomita Mikiko Porcelaneous stoneware with gilding

Tomita Mikiko, Form of the Progenitor, 2019, Glazed and enameled porcelaneous stoneware with gilding

Visiting the Art Institute of Chicago a couple of weeks ago was a perfect opportunity to look beyond merely the visuals of the two exhibits we saw, considering them in terms of touch as well.

Hattori Makiko, Wandering, 2012, Porcelaneous stoneware

Radical Clay: Contemporary Women Artists from Japan is a grouping of work by 36 ceramicists — significantly, as noted, all women. The pieces are from the collection of Carol and Jeffrey Horvitz.

Ikake Sayuri, Breathe, 2015, Pigmented clay

Customarily under-recognized within a country that long excluded women from the creative side of clay, this show lends focus and acclaim to both leading and emerging female artists in the field.

Shingū Sayaka, Erosion No. 4 (Eroding Flower), 2021, Glazed and unglazed stoneware

Their work bursts exuberantly beyond the boundaries of traditional pottery, proposing wild and unimagined possibilities within the medium.

Tanaka Yū, Bag Work, 2018, Glazed Shigaraki stoneware

So much about the work is unexpected. It is curious, delightful and often somehow relatable despite the many unidentifiable and fantastical forms.

Konno Tomoko, Liberation (detail), 2022, Porcelain

Beyond that, the overall gathering point for me was texture – in all its pockmarked, frilled, spiked, gathered, ribbed, shaggy and even occasionally glassy-smooth glory.

Inaba Chikako, Leaf Vessel, Glazed Stoneware

Inaba Chikako, Leaf Vessel, 2017, Glazed Stoneware

Revisiting this exhibit through my photos has led me to realize I wasn’t just seeing it – I was feeling it with my eyes.

Ogawa Machiko, Red Vessel, reduction fired stoneware

Ogawa Machiko, Red Vessel, 2021, Reduction fired stoneware

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Moving from clay to textiles, next we visited Threaded Visions: Contemporary Weavings from the Collection. Relatively small in terms of the number of pieces, it is nonetheless mighty in impact, pushing one’s multi-sensory buttons. The works definitely have the expected tactile appeal associated with textiles, but it is the marriage of texture with dimension that most intrigued me. I didn’t so much want to run my hands over the work as I wanted to drop into the space each artist created.

María Dávila and Eduardo Portillo, White Dwarf, 2016, Silk, moriche palm fiber, alpaca, ad metabolized synthetic film wrapped thread; multilayered plain weave

María Dávila and Eduardo Portillo’s piece White Dwarf, from their imagined cosmos series, refers to a collapsing star. It is a dimensional piece with silvery metallic coils hovering above a grid of deep tones that, to me, evoke the shimmer and movement of moonlight on dark water. Read about these artists’ process and journey in Part one and Part Two, posts on Browngrotta Arts fabulous blog, ArtTextStyle.

Olga de Amaral, Alquimia III (Alchemy III), 1983, Linen, cotton, gesso, gold leaf and pigment; plain weave joined by knotted weft fringe

This glittering piece by Olga de Amaral is part of a series on the subject of alchemy. The masses of loose-end threads emerging from a background of gold leaf suggest a balance between order and chaos.

Olga de Amaral, Alchemy III, detail

Ethel Stein, Portrait, 1999, Cotton; warp and weft resist dyed, satin and twill weaves

The varying weave patterns of Ethel Stein’s stunning Portrait lend an abstract sense of rhythm to the figure within a static background. Zoom in on the above photo to see how the complexity of one area/pattern abutting another incorporates a sense of dimension within an image that essentially presents as flat.

Lia Cook, Facing Touch, cotton with rayon lining

Lia Cook, Facing Touch, 2011, Cotton’ woven on a digital hand loom; rayon lining

Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, Lia Cook addresses the idea of texture directly, as noted on the information card accompanying her piece:

“Lia Cook has long been interested in how the human brain reacts to the desire for touch. In the early 2000s, she began to work with neuroscientists to compare the brain’s response to viewing a woven image of a face versus a photograph of the same face. They discovered that seeing the woven image triggered greater activity in the part of the brain most affected by touch. Facing Touch illustrates this experiment: in it, a girl wearing a cap with sensors attached reaches out to a woven portrait also by Cook, Binary Traces: Young Girl, from 2004.”

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If you have a moment, enjoy this quick and uplifting “Stuck in Vermont” video about Hannah Miller’s quest to read, write and knit in all of Vermont’s libraries during her year-long sabbatical. Follow Hannah’s joyful journey on Instagram: @handknitbyhannah

A Thick Slice of Cake

If you’ve subscribed to my periodic newsletters, then you will already know that my latest Full Bloom portrait is finished.

This one was a challenge for several reasons: the glasses, the full-face angle and the need to subdue any competition between the model’s subtle skin tones and silver-ish hair vs her colorful clothes. That said, I’m very happy with the results — especially the way the subject and the stitched background ended up working, both independently and together.

Measured Response in process

After roughly drafting in the head, I sat with it for several days. There was a quality about it that, although incomplete, seemed to have a lot to say in a ghostly, disembodied sort of way. This is a great example of a point in the process when ideas start to flow for possibilities in future work.

Measured Response Watercolor Embroidery Stitching

Measured Response, detail

What was it about this particular image that made me hesitate in moving forward? Was it the straight-on stare speaking volumes on its own? Or perhaps simply that I tend to be drawn to art where elements of the underpainting/drawing remain visible? I find a sense of poetry in work where the hand and thought processes of the artist are laid bare.

Plus, backgrounds are a bit of – I wouldn’t exactly say nemesis, but definitely a puzzle for me, requiring another level of consideration because of the stitching. I want to create more than a mere backdrop, yet avoid having the piece appear overworked.

Measured Response Angle Watercolor Embroidery

There’s nothing like an angle shot for bringing out the texture of the stitching

In the end, I placed her head firmly on her shoulders, integrating her within space – although admittedly somewhat nebulous space. By pushing the color and pattern of the stitching while keeping it relatively sparse, I was able to hold onto the qualities that had stopped me in the middle, yet reach a satisfactory and full resolution. And, trite though it is to say, ultimately finding a way to have my cake and eat it too.

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While some of you live where your gardens are already coming back to life, those of us in Northern New England have a while yet to wait. But we can dream and plan. Here are a couple of ideas if you too are ready to get back to your plot of earth, but it’s not quite ready for you.

First, a shout-out to my mother-in-law who recently recommended Monty Don’s 3 episode series Adriatic Gardens on Amazon Prime or Acorn TV…it’s wonderful, so check it out.

Alice Fox Wild Textiles Book

And secondly, during the Surface Design Association conference in late January, UK artist Alice Fox spoke inspiringly about her practice using natural processes with found, gathered and grown materials. She made me long to collect the spent daffodil, iris and garlic leaves from my own garden to start creating with them. Granted, it will be a while before that can happen, but in the meantime I purchased a copy of her book Wild Textiles to learn more and to start the creative juices flowing while there’s still snow on the ground.

Embroidery Deep Dive

I fell down an interesting embroidery-related rabbit hole while reading the book Fabric of a Nation (recommended in my last post). It reminded me how interconnected a practice can become over time. While most of the works included in the book are quilts, one is an embroidered bedcover made by Marguerite Zorach as a commission in 1925-28. I still can’t get over how contemporary her stitched patterns and marks appear.

Bedcover detail, ©Marguerite Zorach, 1925-28, wool embroidered on linen

If you aren’t familiar with her, Marguerite Zorach (1887-1968) was a painter and textile artist who was married to the sculptor/painter/printmaker William Zorach. I’ve been aware of her for what seems like forever because she was a Maine artist, but I’m embarrassed to say I never took the time to learn about her work. Rather, I was much more tuned-in to her artist/illustrator daughter, Dahlov Ipcar, who created vividly colorful images of animals within lushly stylized flora. They were, as you might imagine, very appealing to a young person.

October ©Dahlov Ipcar, 32 x 43 in., oil on linen

However, seeing Zorach’s embroidered bedcover and finding other examples of her work on the web all these years later, I’m only now realizing just how much I’ve missed by not learning about her sooner. In hindsight, I’m devastated to see that I missed the Farnsworth Museum’s 2017-18 exhibit “Marguerite Zorach — An Art-Filled Life”. C’est la vie.

Family Supper ©Marguerite Zorach, 1922?, Embroidery

Trained as a painter at the turn of the 20th century, like many of us, Zorach turned to the needle in order to maintain and balance a creative practice alongside motherhood. She was prolific, with her resulting textile pieces similar to her fauvist paintings in both color and imagery. These modernist textiles were very well-received, earning her wide recognition and a crucial means toward supporting their family financially. Yet, while her work helped to break down barriers between art and craft, critics still considered embroidery “lesser”, so in time her work fell out of favor in an early instance of the seemingly immortal Art vs Craft divide rearing its head.

I’ve been playing around with embroidery since I was 10-ish or so, continuing through high school and only moving away from it in college when formal art studies took center stage. After our first child was born though, I gravitated to making art quilts as a more child-friendly medium than the pastels and paint I had been working with pre-pregnancy. From the very beginning, embroidery was an important enhancement to each quilted piece.

Celebrating the Stitch

Unfortunately, at that time I was ignorant of the richly stitched legacy that artists like Zorach had laid out more than a half century earlier. There were, however, plenty of contemporary artists to learn from and to follow. Barbara Lee Smith’s seminal book Celebrating the Stitch, Contemporary Embroidery of North America was a benchmark for me as I forged a path forward with stitch.

At the end of January I showed you the beginning of my invitational eclipse piece. Many hours and stitches later it’s finished. I can’t get enough of the embroidery’s texture as it catches the light.

All these years later I consider embroidery a versatile mainstay of my work. Given time, it’s no surprise that any artist’s practice circles back over itself, re-incorporating much of what was picked up along the way. My current pieces include embroidery on cloth, as well as stitching paired with painting on paper. You can see examples of both in two shows opening this month:

Up & Down, In & Out: Embroidery and its Kin
Studio Place Arts
March 13 – April 20, 2024
Artist Social: Saturday, March 16 4:30-6pm

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Solar Eclipse
The Highland Center for the Arts
March 23 – April 21, 2024
Opening Reception: Saturday, March 23 5:30-7pm

One last note: when we visited the MFA, Boston in January, I was beyond thrilled to come across a piece by Renie Breskin Adams, whose densely embroidered work initially caught my eye in Smith’s book. It was the first time I’d seen her art in the flesh.

Being able to study this piece up close was like finally meeting an old friend/mentor in person. And now that I know about Zorach’s history and her pieces in the MFA’s collection, I can look forward to seeking them out too, to learn and to pay homage on a future visit.

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My three pieces in this show: Left: Poseidon’s Garden ©2016, Dye, discharge and embroidery on silk, 26″H x 22″W Upper Right: Mussel Memory ©2022, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, 12″H x 16″W Lower Right: Caught Red-Handed ©2019, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, 18″H x 24″W

If you can get beyond the mud on your road, there’s no better way to brighten up a drizzly, gray March day than with a healthy dose of color and the warm tactile beauty of this fiber art exhibition. There are only 10 days left for “Trichromancy”, which closes on March 16th.
Chandler Center for the Arts Gallery, Randolph, VT

Small Bites

In the spirit of working with what is available, there’s a lot to be said for short bursts of time — the long haul isn’t necessarily always better. I’ve learned that regular, quick drawings and paintings in my sketchbooks are one way to keep the wheels greased when working around the edges of busy days. And that goes for reading too.

This, and the image below, are an example of just a couple of sketches from the last week. Short and sweet, a half hour of drawing during the day helps to balance the long hours of stitching I’ve been devoting to my eclipse piece (more on that work in my next post). Even a short sketch helps to keep the drawing muscles in shape.

When our kids were little and there just wasn’t time to read more than a couple of novels a year, I developed an appreciation for short-form writing. At that time the interruptions came faster than the length of the shortest chapter, so I really appreciated the luxury of being able to finish what I was reading in one brief sitting. Short stories and magazine articles became a mainstay.

Trench Sketch

I may have plenty of time to read now, but I do still value finding something that I can pick up and put down without disrupting the continuity of either the writing or my train of thought. With that in mind, let me recommend the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston publication Fabric of a Nation, American Quilt Stories. As a companion to their 2021/22 exhibition of the same name (which I did not see), the book includes 58 stunning quilts with numerous detail images. Accompanying each quilt is a bite-sized essay that delves into the provenance of the piece, framed within the historic and political context of the time in which it was made.

Fabric of a Nation

For one who isn’t drawn to scholarly history tomes, I am so enjoying this book! It’s a richly informative and fascinating look at American history, told through the narrative of each creator’s needle. Plus, it has the added benefit of being written so that it can fit into anyone’s schedule…win/win.

Re-Balancing

One of the things I most enjoy, and am very grateful for in my day-to-day, is that my well of projects never runs dry. Still, balance is necessary to keep things in sync and moving forward smoothly. January was packed with administrative chores and various commitments, both art-related and otherwise, which took me away from studio work more days than I would have preferred — and I’m feeling the pinch.

Let’s hear it for sketchbooks – a space to work through ideas, experiment with materials (as with the Tombow brush pens used above), and to find sanity when computer chores feel overwhelming.

However, for the month of February I’m shifting weight, so to speak, and will spend less time on outreach and more hours just making work. That includes here at Eye of the Needle too. Rather than writing and rewriting as usual, I’ll just share a few recommendations below that I’m sure you’ll enjoy, and then will turn away from the computer in favor of my needles and brushes.

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Trichromancy Poster

Last Saturday the group show Trichromancy: Color Divination opened at the Chandler Gallery in Randolph, VT. I have three pieces on view, including “Poseidon’s Garden”, shown in the upper left of this announcement, The event was well attended and spirits were high. I was having such a good time with friends, meeting new people and running into folks I haven’t seen for a long while that I never even thought to bring out my phone to take pictures of the work on display. Bad form for a blogger, but a lovely indication of the convivial evening, and perhaps an impetus for you to go see the show for yourself.

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I really enjoyed this interview with Sandi Hester on Maria Stoljar’s “Talking With Painters” podcast.

Hester, whom I’ve recommended before, is a hoot. She always shares generously about her practice and, in this particular case, talks about approaching it with joy, authenticity and especially without taking herself too seriously. Wise words for all of us. Consider giving it a watch — there’s something in there for just about anyone.

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Finally, good art writing is hard to find. Quite often it’s a slog through erudite art-speak that encourages napping rather than digging deeper to learn more.
Not so with Dian Parker! Parker is a Vermont artist who has written extensively about color and contributes to a wide assortment of art publications. Her reviews and essays about individual artists are succinct and enlightening, always encouraging a desire to look further. Check out her review of Celia Paul ; I can almost guarantee you’ll be Googling to find out more as soon as you finish.

I sketched SDA conference presenter Nnenna Okore while she spoke about her use of bioplastics in her efforts to bring awareness to sustainable practices in art. There is a theory, which I believe whole-heartedly is true, that one hears better while drawing.

That’s it for this week. And here’s to finding that sweet spot of balance in all our practices!

To Save or Not To Save?

The first book I finished this year was Goodbye Things by the minimalist Fumio Sasaki. While I admire his creativity in eliminating a lot of his extra stuff, there is no way I could achieve the degree of clearing out that he advocates. So while I’ll keep chipping away at my varied accumulations, I’m resigned to settling for “good enough”.

Iris House

I come by my pack rat genes honestly and my studio is one space where I never regret holding onto something. It may take (literally) decades, but the day invariably comes when something I’ve put aside is exactly what I need. Materials leftover and saved from previous projects have often been the backbone of new pieces, including what I’ve been working on this month.

Leftover from my Covid Houses, willow branches and dried iris stalks, wrapped with embroidery thread, suggest the dichotomy of perilous rising waters with the stability of community.

First: two brick “houses” for “Water Logged, but Red Hot”, a flood relief fundraiser for Studio Place Arts which experienced significant flooding on July 10th. Damaged bricks from the building’s foundation were distributed among artists and the resulting art pieces are now part of a silent auction to benefit SPA in its flood recovery. See below for details.

Back side of above piece

With those pieces under my belt, this week I’ve been working on an invitational textile piece for an upcoming exhibition that is slated to coincide with the total eclipse this spring. Vermont falls along the prime viewing path, so it’s exciting to be a part of this event.

Somehow these beautiful shades were meant to go together, and I think they will beautifully represent the varying degrees of light during the total eclipse.

Sometimes it’s hard to know where to start, but there’s always inspiration to be found looking through what I have right here. Needless to say, having a selection of fabrics (who knows how old) and threads to choose from helps to get the creative juices flowing.

Discharged dye via stitched-resist suggests the corona of light created by the moon obscuring the sun. I’m still figuring out my next steps, but it will likely involve a fair amount of embroidery.

All too often I ask myself — do I keep this or get rid of it? It always depends, but if it’s studio-related, to heck with minimalism.

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FYI: The SPA Flood Relief auction runs from January 24 – February 3. Brick artwork will be displayed at Studio Place Arts and silent auction bids will be taken during this time, both in-person and on-line via the SPA website. Art will be sold and distributed at the conclusion of the SPA Art Social on Saturday, February 3. 100% of the sale will benefit the SPA Flood Recovery Fund.

Unexpected Treats

Isn’t it often the case that what you weren’t planning is what ends up being the most memorable of any excursion?

Dress and Portrait of Mrs. Charles E. Inches: Sargent

Evening Dress, Unidentified Maker, American, Silk velvet with silk plain weave lining. Worn by Mrs. Charles E. Inches (Louise Pomeroy) in her portrait, painted by John Singer Sargent, 1887

Last week we made a speedy trip to Boston to see “Fashioned By Sargent” at the MFA before it closes on the 15th. Even with timed entry on a weekday, it was very crowded and tough to dodge the many other viewers in order to truly see the paintings or read the gallery notes.

“Beetle Wing Dress” for Lady Macbeth, designed by Alice Laura Comyns Carr and Ada Cort Nettleship, 1888. Cotton, silk, lace, beetle-wing cases, glass, and metal.

Happily, the highlight turned out to be seeing some of the real-life dresses displayed near each of the portraits in which they appear, lending a better understanding of how Sargent rendered textures and draping. For anyone who sews, getting a close-up look at the detailed workmanship and needle skills of 19th and early 20th century clothing made waiting for the crowd to thin around each display case worthwhile.

Back view of Lady Macbeth Dress, Cloak

John Singer Sargent, Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth, 1889. Oil on canvas.

Comparatively, the rest of the museum felt enjoyably spacious and it was a treat to explore many of the other exhibits on view. There were three I can’t stop thinking about: Matthew Wong: The Realm of Appearances, Dinorá Justice: The Lay of the Land, and Toshiko Takaezu: Shaping Abstraction.

In hindsight, the Sargent exhibit landed like a heaping serving of eye-candy, whereas the Wong, Justice and Takaezu works were more main course fare. Interestingly, all three maintain their strong individual voices while unabashedly nodding toward and weaving in influences from art of the past and of their contemporaries. I walked out with a lot to digest.

Matthew Wong, Once Upon a Time in the West 2018 Gouache on paper. Wong gleaned inspiration from many sources, including films. This piece takes its title from Sergio Leone’s 1968 film of the same name.

Dinorá Justice, Portrait 36, after Manet’s “Olympia,” 2023 Oil and acrylic on canvas. Justice’s work references well-known paintings by 16th-19th century men which feature and objectify reclining women. Her point is to reorient the historical masculine gaze, empowering her figures by connecting them with their femininity and their environment through the decorative textile patterns and colors of her Brazilian heritage.

Toshiko Takaezu, Euphrosyne (Joy), 2000 Stoneware. Rather than painting on canvas, Takaezu employed full-body glazed brushwork on her large-scale ceramic pieces, keeping her in step with her abstract expressionist contemporaries.

The overarching connection I found between the three of them (and what I most enjoyed about their disparate work), was the mainstay of pattern. Cacophonous? Yes. Tranquil? Also yes. Satisfying? Definitely.

I think it’s natural to find a sort of pure, visceral joy in pattern. I’m sure it has something to do with survival, but leaving evolutionary science out of it, I googled “what makes patterns so attractive to humans?”. The answer was that we are drawn to patterns because they help us make sense of the world around us, satisfying our brain’s need to find order in chaos. Reading further about each of these artists, it’s not a huge leap to think that perhaps that definition describes a large part of what each of them may well have been/are seeking.

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One last unexpected treat the MFA had in store:
During the pandemic, I followed Eben Haines’ Shelter In Place Gallery on Instagram. Maybe you did too?

Eben Haines, Shelter in Place Gallery, 2020 Foamcore, mat board, acrylic and latex paint, balsa wood, redwood, plexiglass, adhesive backed vinyl, adhesive backed polyvinyl and aluminum

It was such a lovely thing to see at the time — ongoing exhibitions of artists’ “Large scale” work, placed and photographed in his miniature space, giving the impression of a full-scale gallery show at a time when no one could venture beyond their homes. It was a wonderful troupe d’œil illusion.
Coming across Haines’ miniature gallery, in the flesh, on view in the “Tiny Treasures” exhibit of miniatures last week, felt like running into an old friend.

Eben Haines Shelter in Place Gallery

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And finally,

A peek at the chaos that is my workspace this week. More on what’s cooking next time.

Mending Magic

Here’s a final recommendation to close out 2023.

Mending Life – A Handbook for Repairing Clothes and Hearts by Nina and Sonya Montenegro has been on my radar since it first came out in 2020. But it took having the perfect recipient this Christmas for me to finally buy a copy. Of course I had to ever-so-gently read it before wrapping it up to put under the tree.

Mending Life

If ever there was a book containing love, this is it.
Filled with gentle stories and charming illustrations that shine a light on the humble art of mending, you will never again think of repairing something with needle and thread as just a mundane chore.

The Montenegro sisters frame mending as an act of homage – to the clothes we wear, to those who made them, to the earth we want to protect, and to those who took the time and love to mend for us in the past.

Back Cover Mending Life

The easy-to-follow illustrated directions cover an assortment of ways to darn, patch or repair — perfect for beginners and seasoned sewers alike. The authors address sewing basics, as well as the more advanced Sashiko, needle-felting, crochet and needle-weaving, reminding us that an act of repair can also be a creative gesture (think Wabi-sabi or Kintsugi). The possibilities are virtually endless.

As I grew up, every woman in my orbit had a mending basket; it was as much a fact of life as any other set of household tools, completely unnoticed in its ordinariness. A skilled repair was meant to remain invisible. And even though I patched my jeans in high-school with contrasting fabrics, I never really thought of mending in general as a form of healing, let alone creativity.

But this sweet book has changed my mind. Suddenly I’m scouring my closets, looking for something to mend. That is indeed magic!

Happy New Year!

Stick Season

I love Stick Season.

It’s prized by locals as the sweet period between fall and winter when pretty much everybody from away, stays away. But I’m more fond of it as the landscape’s last hurrah before the snow arrives.

It’s not as showy as September and October, but the russets, golds and olives of November have their own richness, especially when backed by a crisp blue sky or the drama of heavy purple-grey clouds.

Once again we become reacquainted with the structure of the trees that had been hidden by leaves since Spring. Lingering apples and the garnet red fruit in a stand of sumac brighten barren, grey branches like premature holiday ornaments.

In the early evening, the sometimes subtle, sometimes shocking gradations of a sunset’s colors can be viewed through the dark lines and silhouettes of leafless sentinels, often accented with an early star.

And before we know it, snow covers the mountains and a new season begins. Such is the beauty of Vermont.

Side Note: Can’t write about this subject without referencing Noah Kahan’s hit Stick Season, from the album of the same name

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For those of you who celebrate, I wish you a very Merry Christmas. And for those who don’t, may the weeks ahead be a period of cozy respite and peace.
As ever, thank you for joining me here.

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It’s that time of year and we’re all feeling it. Take a break from the holiday flurry; there are still two more weeks to visit Who Are We? Pieces of the Identity Puzzle at the Satellite Gallery in Lyndonville, VT. (Scroll down the page of the above link for more photos and information).