Sitting stitching

I had to spend a few days away this week, stuck inside in a room where I couldn't do much. I read a lot, which was great, but I was also glad I remembered to take along my little sewing bag. I begin this piece back in 2013 and just take it with me when I travel or know I will be sitting around for lengthy periods of time.

I was asked what I was making, and I had to reply nothing really. It's just a piece of fabric I take with me, and then I sit and stitch, and add things to it and see what happens.

My first new addition was this slinky row of stitches. I have few rules for myself, and don't mind if the line goes a'wandering.

And then I thought I'd try a weird little cut out square - wobbly, but whimsical.
This is the way it is placed on the fabric.

But it also looks nice from this angle.

And this angle.

I enjoyed doing the French Knots.  It's not finished yet - I may add a few more.

In love with soft frayed edges and loose threads.

The best therapy is often doing something with your hands don't you think?

And then I was so, so, so happy to get home and look at this.

Thursday Thoughts...

“When a reader falls in love with a book, it leaves its essence inside him, like radioactive fallout in an arable field, and after that there are certain crops that will no longer grow in him, while other, stranger, more fantastic growths may occasionally be produced.”

 Salman Rushdie

This quote has been in my quote-bank for years I think, but I have avoided using it because of the harshness of the imagery evoked by radioactive fallout.

Today is Hiroshima Day, and my Thursday Thoughts are about books, so I figure I will never find a better time to ponder about it.

This morning Barry and I gonged our peace bell, at the exact same time as they rang the peace bell in the Peace Park in Hiroshima, a gentle link of peaceful vibrations across the world.  The man who made our bell and who we have visited, also made the pitch perfect bell at the Peace Park - so special.

Today I read the words again and tried to find something that makes some sense on this day.  We have visited the Museum and the mounds and the peace cranes in the Peace Park at Hiroshima and it is so hard to imagine that radioactive fallout can grow anything beautiful or fantastical. Grotesque, damaged, deformed. Those words seem to capture what happens to new growth after nuclear fall out.

Certainly some things will never grow again.

I love books and have fallen in love with books.  Many books have left their mark on me, their essence left inside me.  That part of the quote I like.

The rest of the quote I don't like and can't imagine why you might choose those words to describe what a book can do...

I looked at lots of dark images form Hiroshima to go along with this post; but decided there was already too much darkness.  This is a portion of a sculpture at the Peace Park - softer, gentler and more hopeful...

Broken fragments

I've been away and out of action for a bit, so haven't been able to get back to photograph Endure.

But as we were pulling it apart, and basically having to break it along the way in order to recover and re-make it, the four original Perspex sandwich pages were damaged.

We put them aside and at the end of the day I thought I'd throw them away.

But as soon as I went to do that, they said "no".

I don't know the right words to say "as quick as...." but immediately I knew I had to work with them, that they too, had a story to tell.

They are damaged, they are broken. But I don't think that stops them from having an inherent beauty, or from having another chance. It doesn't stop them from speaking and sharing.

Sadly, they whispered to me more words and thoughts about family violence and I imagine they will keep whispering until I know how to use them, respectfully.

They sit wrapped in paper, under my desk, waiting to tell me what next and how. I'm not sure how long that will take, but I do know these will be works that need to take the time they need to take...

Re-making continues

So, back to the re-making of Endure. We did the breaking the pages thing.  Barry used an oyster knife to slide between the layers of Perspex, twisted it and popped the rivets. Cracking the Perspex along the way of course.

One thing we determined - we do good riveting!  They held very well and took quite a bit to break, so that is comforting on one level.  I offered to help with the knife, but Barry really does prefer to keep me away from blades unless absolutely necessary, so I observed that part.

Next step was to gently take the broken layer off, and transfer the inside pages to the new inset.

Then  attach the words directly to the Perspex - no slipping this time - and then gently place the lid back on. The static electricity created by Perspex is something to behold - all those tiny burnt fragments just wanted to dance and leap about everywhere!

Then we were back to riveting.

Then back to stitching.

And now we have a beautiful book again. I'll have to show those photos later - it deserves a blog by itself without all the process distractions...stay tuned!

Thursday Thoughts...

“People think of education as something they can finish.”

 Isaac Asimov

I love this thought!  It makes such perfect sense from the perspective of a half century; yet it could be hard to convince a teenager or a person in their early twenties that finishing high school or university isn't actually the end of learning at all; in fact it is just a marker along the way.  I guess they want to believe that studying is over and the rest of their life is just doing and being.

I have had great role models - both my parents were the first in their families to attend university; both had careers; and then both went back and did further degrees in their fifties and sixties.  And started new careers!  I love that learning continues for ever and that there is still so much to explore and understand.

An oldie but a goodie - Ancora Imparo - I am still learning...by Michelangelo.

The joys of type

Taking a slight diversion because I haven't yet had time to progress much on the Endure front...

Last Friday I was uber-excited by the arrival in the post of my first sets of brand new, shiny, lead type.  I had ordered some from San Francisco and was waiting patiently for it arrive. The woman at the post office noted that the parcel was small, but heavy!

One of the best things about buying brand spanking new type, is that it comes boxed, packaged and organised.  Not like the type I am buying or rescuing from old printers where I have to clean and sort it and it take ages to get going.

This will be just like "open it up and pop it in its type drawer", I thought.

Almost.

As I went to open it, I noticed this...opened for inspection by Customs.

Inside a little note confirming this.  I wonder what they thought it was?

The first box I pulled out looked like this, and I thought that' s not too bad, they must have just had a peek and worked out what it was.

The second box I saw, looked like this.  A little bit sadder but holding together OK I thought.

Until I picked it up to move it...

Sigh.

The next few boxes were perfect, then right at the bottom I saw this.

Yep, an entire box spilled. Bummer.

I rattled round in the box and found these orphans in amongst the packing beads.

To go with the ones that spilled out from the second box. Aren't they shiny????

I guess, on average I didn't do too badly. But I do have quite a long job ahead of me sorting out and organising this box of type, which I had hoped to simply transfer across!  At least I don't have to clean it.

Re-making...

Making and re-making. Sometimes, you just have to pull things apart and start over.

I'll take you back...The 9th book in my collaboration with Susan was the Burning Book. It is a huge perspex book called Endure.  I love it - it has presence and majesty and power about it.

I chose to use a style I have created for several other books.  I first used the perspex sandwich book back in 2013 when I made "Peace Mends the World" and Barry and I have gone on to use it with the Queensland Literary Awards trophies in both 2013 and 2014.

This 3-layered approach allows me to contain something - metal or pages, between perspex and have it settled within its own cocoon.  With Endure I wanted to have my cut out words floating across the page, and thought I could use the same approach. Barry tried hard at different points to suggest to me that the paper might be too thin to hold and that it could (would) slip down.  I was somewhat headstrong and keen to get the book done so ignored his sage advice.

You know where this is headed.

Of course, the words slipped.

We tried a couple of desperate wingle-wangle (technical term) approaches to push them back up etc etc, to no avail; and so the only way to make this book beautiful again, is to take it apart, pull the four pages with floating words apart, secure the words and then re-rivet the pages and sew it up again.

I'm not actually too phased by needing to do this, because I know the book deserves it.

And along the way I got to look at lots of loverly iterations of words and layering...

A while ago I got new Perspex cut. Over the weekend we drilled holes in the new trios.

Then I cut the stitching to release the pages from each other.

Such a lovely nest of thread remained.

Next steps...separate the trio of pages that are riveted together - means hard work and breaking!  Then gently and safely transfer the inside pages to the new trios.  Then firmly attach words! Then re-rivet. Then clean. Then re-stitch. Then clean again. So I know what I'm doing next week...