Thursday Thoughts...

“If I waited for perfection… I would never write a word” 

Margaret Atwood

This week's ponderings about books, and in a sideways connection this one ponders writing.  Margaret Atwood is a wise and visionary woman, and writer. And these are wise words.

It doesn't take a lot of interrogation work out what she means here, or whether she is trying to say this, or maybe that...

I am more interested in thinking about the truth of what she says which feels so very very true.  

I think if we all sat around waiting until we knew we could produce something perfect, whether it was waiting for the perfect gathering and sequencing of words; or perhaps the perfect execution of a painting; or the flawless sewing of a garment without a single mis-stitch; or the perfect layout and placement and selection of lettering or type, then none of us could begin.

We all need to set something forth, regard it, consider it, move it around, lighten it up, darken it down, replace one thing with another. That is the work. It isn't the magical translation of an idea or notion conceived perfectly within the mind into something physical or evident.

Writing a book is not about having the whole thing mapped out in your head, every plot point, every character, every description and then delivering it word-perfectly. Nor is it about not putting pen to paper until you have the perfect way of depicting or describing something. It is about getting something down and then refining it.

It is incremental.

I think this is not so much a pondering as a nodding in agreement. And a reminder to stop not starting until you have the perfect idea or process or layout or colour swatches or...

In making a book, or writing some words. Dive in and do it. Reflect. Repeat.

Be curious. Explore. Take it step by step.

Preparing to stitch

 I have begun my conversation with the piece of linen I am working on for my friend who died. 

One of our best ever conversations was sitting with our backs against the stone wall of the cottage, in the sunshine, blethering this way and that. So I am trying to reflect that conversation and I am really not sure  I'll ever be able to do it justice.

At the moment I am very much in the testing and trialling stage. It might take a while to figure out how to do this I think.

But I have begun.

The circular nature of women friends feels strong at the moment. Here at the cottage I have this set of embroidery threads tied onto their card with symbols for whichever pattern they were intended for. These are one of my best friends' mother's threads, and she gave them to me after her mum died - about 20 years ago, and I have used the intermittently. I was very happy that I could pick them up and maybe use some of them for this wee project.

I printed off some photos of the wall and checked if there were threads that might match. I found four and thought that was a good start.

I then set about trying to recreate the wall for stitching.  Because the fabric is so narrow I am not sure how well this will work. But off I go!

I transferred fairly accurate shapes of the stones and the pointing on the wall to my book; then onto a strip of tracing paper.

And then checked to see what it might look like on the linen.

Barry walked in and knew exactly what it was as the moment he saw it. I remain a tad hesitant.

I then used a removable marker to draw onto a test bit of fabric. And that's as far as I got.

The proof will be in the pudding once I start stitching I think.

There is no way I can fill all of the stones in with stitches unless I want this to take forever, so I will have to see if I can somehow 'sketch' them in, or slightly fill them, or indicatively fill them. We shall see!

In the meantime, before we had Sunday's beautiful blue sky, we had some seriously wicked weather. Sometimes even that weather is beautiful...

Testing an idea

 Back here, I had soldered a lot of small circles ready to take them home and roll them through the mill to create pebble forms for my stack of three earrings.

A I posted, I had the thought about maybe texturing them? 

This thought niggled away and I went to the workshop (aka garden shed) to see if I could cut 6 small circles, solder 6 small circles, flatten 6 small circles, pickle 6 small circles, texture 6 small circles, and then solder two lots of 3 small circles, and pickle them again.

I am happy to say, mission accomplished over two days.

After soldering, the one on the right was hammered flat by hand. I realised as I did them that I usually manage to squish and distort the forms more by putting them through the mill, but was happy enough to proceed with the notion of more circle-shaped forms.

Looking somewhat earring-like...

And then pickled. With a few random fragments as well.

And so to texturing by hammering with a different hammer.

And soldered prior to pickling.

And pickled.

Still with some filing and polishing to do, they are looking maybe like they will be OK.

And then I thought, maybe I should oxidise them???

Will leave that thought till we return to Maleny!

And today has been 'a day between weathers' as our neighbour says; with what a friend calls a bluebird sky. Simply stunning.

We did some yard work, moving rocks and pruning and a touch of weeding. Then sat in the sun with our backs against the stone wall of the cottage. Basking. Apricating. Enjoying.

Bliss.

Thursday Thoughts...

“Words do have edges. So do you.” 

Anne Carson

I sincerely don't know how long this quote has been in my list; but I know it has been years.  And only this week did it spark recognition with the author, because Anne Carson recently won the Nobel Prize for Literature.  I have never read her work so am kind of surprised I had a quote of hers here. But it felt like a worthwhile time to attempt to interrogate it!

I think my response to this is about sharpness. That words can be sharp, and therefore painful. That you too, can be sharp, in your tone or in your actions or your words. So it feels like a bit of a warning. At the very least it feels like a reminder.

I am not sure of the context, but on reflection I look again at the word edges and think that edges don't have to be sharp. An edge can simply be an edge - the edge of the ocean, the edge of a tablecloth. So what then is an edge?

Could she be thinking about words having finite meanings? And we having finite limits? Could she think that words finish somewhere and go no further? That we as people have limits to what we can do and achieve?

On balance, I still think it feels like a reminder to take care with your words and your actions.

Scenes from our trips away

 It has been a busy month here with trips up and down and round about, for friends and with friends.

Here are some images of the beauty we have found along the way...

Two trips to Orkney in a fortnight and some neolithic magic, some beaches and some weather!

The Ring of Brodgar, brooding.

One of the dwellings at Skara Brae.

The Broch of Gurness

Rain shower looking over to Hoy

The beach at Skara Brae, Skaill Bay.

Back on mainland Scotland again, our beach at Armadale

Duncansby Stacks on the north east coast.

Down south - red squirrels at breakfast.

Autumn colours.

And the sheep on the common grazings in Armadale one morning.

The quiet power of stitching

 I have begun a small project. It is in its infancy, and I have been focussed on doing things like finding cotton reels! Cutting up linen! Thinking about what on earth I am trying to do! Working out how many cotton reels and linen! Assessing how I could make it work! When would I need to do it by!

And in a way, that has all been fine. Since the death of our dear friend I have been unsettled, unmoored and unfocussed.

However, I know that making helps me. That it is soothing; that it is calming. Making helps my mind float in a focussed manner, and making with my hands lifts my mood.

Our time has been a bit scattered with trips south to help, and to attend funerals. Trips with visitors and more visitors to prepare for.  None of which have been conducive to embedding myself in something.

But I found some time on Thursday to sit with some stitching.

A friend here had gifted me this book and I have been reading it at Biblio mornings, soaking up the bits that matter and the things that resonate. And it reminded me I could just go sit and stitch.

And so I began working on a length of linen a friend had returned to me. Simple attachment of linen to linen.

 And simple stitches made with vintage wool naturally hand dyed by a friend of hers and over the next few days something began to emerge.

However, with some shortbread in the oven preparing for visitors as I type, I have completed the length of the linen and it feels so good. Not the accomplishment or the achievement, but the actual recovery from stress I feel. The recalibration and realignment that settled upon me. Physically I am better for having sat and stitched.

And here is another length of linen. I had shared the idea of the project with my friend who died and she had enthusiastically agreed to come play with me. That was not to be, so I am trying now to include her in the work somehow. 

This linen strip was soaked in the sea water from our beach (she was a wild swimmer and loved a dip in the sea) and then wrapped around a few rusty pieces we had here, trying to get the softest hints of marks.

It is a beginning. 

It is a return.

Thursday Thoughts...

"I think what I'm trying to do is create moments of recognition. To try to detonate some kind of feeling or understanding of lived experience” 

Barbara Kruger

This feels as if what I try to do with my artwork is seen.  As I read it, the moments of recognition part really resonated.  

In the end I think that is all I can do - make work that might just connect with somebody. They might get a glimpse of something, or nod, or go ah-ha when they view the work or read it.

Her use of the word detonate is far stronger than any I would have chosen. I might have gone for 'spark' some kind of feeling or understanding.

As I continue to reflect on it, my sense is that I perhaps am looking for more than simply a moment of recognition. I think I am looking for a moment of connection.  She suggests an understanding of lived experience; I perhaps am trying for a shared understanding of sorts.

Or am I? Can I really ask that folk have a shared or connected response to my family violence work? 

I think I can, because my work is about my anger at it; or my attempts to amplify the voices of victims and I I am sure many fork could connect to or share those.

I do enjoy when quotes set me thinking beyond my initial response; and this one is truly asking me to think more about my work; why I do it; what I am hoping for; what my intention is...and they are all good questions to be asking!

I think my recent conversations with women friends work has definitely brought about nods of recognition among women... so many women have pointed and gone "that's us" or "oh so true" and the like.  Lots of smiles of recognition, lots of shared experiences.

Thursday Thoughts...

“Anybody who writes a book is an optimist. First of all, they think they’re going to finish it. Second, they think somebody’s going to publish it. Third they think somebody’s going to read it. Fourth. they think somebody’s going to like it. How optimistic is that?” 

Margaret Atwood

I loved this so much when I read it! Writing a book sounds like climbing a mountain when you put it like that, and I am grateful that so many folk have attempted to summit.

As I read through the quote I imagine she has made the process more succinct than it really is, however the four pithy stages are enough for me to realise how ambitious and optimistic it really is.

I like the idea that the folk who provide me so much enjoyment, are optimists. They aren't all negative nellies or pessimists; they have to have some sense of optimism within them to even embark on the project of writing a book.

I had never stopped to think of this way of characterising writers. So often we think of them as anguished or tortured as they struggle to get the perfect sentence; to write so many words; to edit them down. It all seems such a difficult process whenever I think of it, and yet here is one of the best writers around re-shaping the process in my mind. I love it.

Ripples of Peace...

 International Day of Peace is a week ago now, and we have been slow to fully mark it. A dear friend entered hospice care on the day, and the world has since slowed and saddened.

But I have been warmed to see so many images of the peace flags in their different homes and different places, around the world. Here are a few I have managed to catch hold of.

Alongside some old friends in Vermont

Hanging in the holly and the cherry trees in Canada 

At Blackheath in the Blue Mountains, some old and some new...

Some more old and some new on a beautiful maple in Massachusetts

In a spring garden in Canberra.

  

In Swordly, Scotland

And in Maleny.

Apologies for any I may have missed.

If there are more to share, I will add them in here as I receive them.

There was a beautiful sunrise over the cove here in Armadale this morning.

Peace.