Oy. Today I'm writing to you from bed, surrounded by tissues, Ricola wrappers and half-finished cups of tea. I have requested a strep test from my doctor and am disappointed to have not heard back from her yet. The upside is I'm still using a borrowed laptop, so at least I can both blog and watch the World Cup unfold from the comfort of bed.
I have been doing a lot of dyeing, recently. Two pots of red onion skins and two of avocados - one just skins, and one just the pits. It's the first time I've split them up like that, the pits and the skins, and I wasn't sure they would give off noticeably different colors. If they did, I expected that the pits would yield a deeper dye, based on the much higher ratio of dyestuff to fabric. I was wrong on both counts: not only are the colors different, but the skins actually produced the darker, richer color. And what a beautiful color it is! Such a rich, silky blush. I love it. (It's fourth from the top.)
In fact, I love all them. I love them together. I'm so happy with this stack, I want to cut into them immediately and start piecing. I'm imagining something like this.
Click on image to enlarge
The truth is I am a lover of materials. I certainly haven't hit my stride yet in terms of my aesthetic, so perhaps one day this feeling will change - but I'm a believer that the most beautiful moment is before a project even begins. In that time when the fabric is just that, just itself; there is so much raw beauty, so much potential. For me this is true for a stack of textiles, a skein of yarn or mound of clay. The finished project is always somehow disappointing - even if beautiful! - because the magic of that potential is gone. A path was taken and a destination reached, and all the other doors are closed. While writing this out I recognize that it seems like a odd take on things, as a maker, but I get the feeling I'm not alone in this. I even think these feelings are part of why I like to work on several things at once: to help overcome the fear of starting, of narrowing down the potential paths until there is only one thing, the thing you are almost finishing. Somehow interspersing projects at different stages helps negate this feeling, maybe.
But I am trying hard to not start multiple projects at once these days. Usually that is the way that I work, a million things going at once, but with relocation on the horizon it is definitely not wise. I'm already planning to start packing up the studio in the near future, because we'll have company at the end of July and it will make things that much easier to get a jumpstart on it now. Also, the studio is supposed to function as the guest room, but is actually in a constant state of complete and total destruction, as my husband will tell you. I'm not a tidy person, and especially not when I'm working on a project or three.
What I am supposed to be working on is not that stack of pink beauties but this luxurious bolt of indigo chambray. Queen sized quilts are finally in the making for HEM, and I couldn't be happier about it. After all this moving business is done, we might even have a queen sized mattress to put one on.