Making time

Today I'm trying to make progress on a couple of different fronts. The laundry's in the machine, I'm doing a little writing, and I've just mixed up a batch of print paste (a gallon of slippery ooze that used for printing with dye). This afternoon Dan and I are going to Home Depot to get some insulation board to redo the surface of my print table. This might not sound like an exciting day to everyone, but it's pretty good so far in my book. I've got some ideas for a design I want to work on, and I'm hoping to be able to do some printing tomorrow afternoon.

Dan and I went to see the new Harry Potter movie last night (Order of the Phoenix). We walked into the theater lobby and ran into about 10 people from church. It ended up being a nice, effortless group outing. The movie is good. I enjoyed it as an entertainment undo itself, but I don't think it creates the same sense of darkness as the book. The book is long, and obviously has to be cut to make a tolerable screenplay. For me, the resulting film seems a bit fast paced, and there are elements of plot and character development that end up being present only by implication or through an understanding based on having read all of the books up through Order of the Phoenix. All that said, I don't think I'd want to sit through the 6 hour film that would result from leaving nothing out!

Tonight is Karla's farewell BBQ and "celebrity roast." Should be fun.

Whoa! How can it be Thursday already?

This probably hasn't been the best week of my life, but then I guess it hasn't been the worst either. I had a little meltdown last night--well, maybe something between a meltdown and a hissy fit. I think it was brought on by a combination of several things, but was largely a delayed reentry reaction. It's hard to go from being completely immersed in something that you love--something that's fulfilling and spiritually renewing--back into your normal routine. It's never really fun to come back from vacation, but I find that coming back from a workshop is significantly harder. My little fit had a lot to do with my not having found any time this week to sketch, paint, print, etc. The height of my creative activity was when I threw a piece of cloth into the washer that still had residue of batik wax on it. That just wasn't really as satisfying as actually making that piece of cloth. Perhaps this weekend will be a little better. Even if I just draw for an hour I think things will be a little better.

Here's a picture I snapped on holiday a couple of years ago. I love the look of weathered painted wood--boats, barns, fences. I think it speaks of weather, experience, and survival, not unlike the lines and gray (or missing) hairs we all accumulate over time.

I love what happens to it when you sample small rectangular shapes out of it. Maybe I'll use some of these for some abstract sketching exercises. The more I look at these strips the more it's making me think about strip quilting with not just a combination of commercial and hand-dyes, but also incorporating photographic elements. I'll have to come back to that idea.

It's Monday again

Work was a little more normal today. Most everybody's back in the office from their extended holiday, and I'm feeling a little bit more present. By that I mean that I'm starting to recover from workshop brain--for better or worse.

Yesterday I rearranged by basement dye studio and did some work to improve the lighting. Among the things that I learned at Peters Valley is that my work table is woefully inadequate. The surface isn't really padded correctly and I don't have enough depth or the proper subsurface to pin into. The tape thing just isn't cutting it because I'm not able to put the fabric tight enough to print well. I've scoped out the insulation board at Home Depot. Now I just need to figure out how to get it home.

I've also been reviewing a couple of years of digital photos, looking for reoccurring subjects, colors, textures. I'm starting to get a descent handle on some of the basic dye, print, screen, discharge, etc. techniques; and I think I have some sense for color. What I feel I need though, is some more formal reflection on the content/subject matter of my own personal imagery and color palette. What is it that makes my work mine and recognizable as such?

Some of the photo subjects that I found are:

• Old buildings
• Urban scenery
• Trees
• Flowers
• Things with interesting textures or patterns
• Rocks
• Water (fountains, rivers, lakes)
• Moss (lots and lots of moss)
• Leaves of all colors
• Ferns
• Ocean/beach
• Just about anything in the desert
• Vast expanses of clear blue sky contrasted with almost any foreground subject
• Close focus shots (almost always of plants)
• Interesting spots of color that stand out against their background
• Compositions that play with short depth of field with the focal point either close or mid-range
• Car tail lights at night shot from a moving car, jerky and out of focus
• Thousands of pictures of our cats (they are so patient)
• Random household objects (I found a forgotten study I did of a dirty coffee cup with dried cappuccino residue.

Subjects that are conspicuously missing were:

• Sunsets, other than those taken on vacation (I mean, it's practically a holy obligation on Santorini)
• People
• Children who are not my niece or nephews
• Dirt/trash
• Cars/boats/planes (That's Dan's department)
• Sporting events (yawn)
• News and hardcore photojournalism

So, I've been thinking about this stuff for a while and I'm going to try to sort it out, try to make some meaning out of it. Just what I need right, more self examination. When I was writing yesterday's post I was looking at Jane Dunnewold's site to get the name of one of her CDs. I noticed that she has co-authored a new book titled, "Finding Your Own Visual Language." (At least I think it's new). It sounds like a good structured series of exercises, and pretty much exactly what I'm talking about doing. It's on the way. We'll see how it goes.

Sunday evening stuff

Despite my carping about going to church as opposed to hanging out on the porch, I'm glad I went. It was good--better than it's been in a while. It's a bit of a strange time right now. Our priest, Karla was married two weeks ago and is leaving next week to become rector of a parish in North Carolina, where she and her husband will be living. I'm happy for her, but the reality of our parting is starting to set in. I've been intentionally focusing on the positive aspects of her move. It's probably good for her career to take what she's learned here and apply in a different place. It's great that she and her new husband are not going to try to live in two different places (he's not able to relocate to DC right now). I haven't lost focus on these positive things, but the fact that my friend, adviser, and confidant is not going to be physically present in my daily life is starting to overshadow. We'll see each other a couple of times this week, including a birthday party, a final discernment meeting, and a big parish going-away BBQ. These will all be good, happy times together, but I'm afraid the tears are inevitable. I'm not cute when I cry.

On the subject of Karla. The pictures below are of a liturgical stole that I made for Karla's wedding. The Right Reverend John Bryson Chane, Bishop of Washington, wore it when he married Karla and Steve. Now the stole belongs to Karla, for her to wear when she marries other couples. This feels so very right. Karla officiated at Dan's and my commitment ceremony last October. In an indirect way, I participated in her wedding. Now threads (literally and figuratively) of all of that joy will be part of future weddings.

Bishop Chane and Karla looking at the stole before the wedding (photo: Rich Rennomeron).

Wrapping the happy couple's hands in the stole after the exchange of vows (photo: Rich Rennomeron).

These are the two pieces that make up the front. The piece on the right is painted silk habotai. The piece on the left is sheer polyester, about the weight of a window sheer. The circles are silver composition leaf prepared using Jane Dunnewold's laminating method (and, I confess, no small inspiration from one of her designs). The laminating technique works very well and is clearly documented in Jane's CD titled "Paper and Metal Leaf Lamination," which is available at www.complexcloth.com. If you ever have a chance to take a workshop with Jane DO IT. She's great. So, as I look at these pieces I think I like them better as individuals than I do in combination. The photo shows two pure elements.

Here are a few shots of the finished piece, The top two layers are hand quilted with gold metallic thread to a piece of lightweight interfacing and there are small clusters of seed beads sewn into the middle of each circle. What was I thinking?

I wanted the back to be something radically different, with an element of tension. The wedding day is all pretty colors and shiny things, but marriage is a more complicated mix, which I tried to convey through uneven color and pattern. The words running along the back are part of the wedding vows. I think it's neat that when the priest wraps the couple's hands in the stole they see some of both sides.

Sunday morning stuff

There aren't enough hours in the weekend--in my life for that matter. I can't really complain about this weekend in particular, since I did spend a good part of yesterday playing. Now it's Sunday morning about 9AM. I've had a cup of coffee, puttered around the house a bit, and now I'm sitting on the back porch with no real desire to leave this spot for a few hours if that were actually possible. I've got to get up soon, make myself look semi-presentable, and run off to church.

I feel a little guilty when I don't do that with a gleeful spring in my step. Church--faith for that matter--have never been simple things for me, at least not as an adult. For the last year, as I've considered the possibility of vocational ministry (that's a churchy way of saying becoming a priest--Episcopal priest that is), Sunday morning has become a much more complicated milestone in the cycle of the week.

I should probably digress here for a minute and explain that in the Episcopal church one does not individually choose to become a priest. It's a much larger and longer community process. It generally begins by discussing your sense of calling with your parish priest. That's the first gate through which you have to pass. You don't go any further in the "process" without your priest's endorsement, except possibly to another parish in search of a different priest. The next step is often to begin meeting with a spiritual director, if you're not doing so already. This is an experienced and/or trained person (lay or ordained) with whom you can talk, listen, and reflect about your spiritual journey. I am blessed to have a great director (that's such an understatement).

That's where I've been for the last year and a half: meeting with my director and my priest, reading, thinking, writing. Part of the reason for taking so much time is that the next step in the process--formal discernment--was shutdown in the Diocese of Washington for retooling. Discernment processes vary from one diocese to another, but from what I know they all involve the aspirant (person who thinks they are called to ordained ministry) discerning their call with a group of people. There are also essays to write, a psych evaluation, many many forms to fill out, ultimately leading to a meeting with your bishop who, like your parish priest, is charged with the task of saying yes or no. It's not an election or decision by committee (although there are recommendations). The final decision comes down to two people: the bishop and the aspirant. So, all of this formal discernment takes about a year and ultimately could result in the aspirant becoming a postulant, which means that you can now apply to an Episcopal seminary, spend 3 years in school and fieldwork, endure incredible scrutiny, sit for the General Ordination Exams, and ultimately end up back with your bishop saying yes or no. At some point along the way (I think senior year) the postulant has become a candidate for holy orders. Next comes ordination as a deacon, about 6 months of deaconal service in a parish, then ordination to the priesthood.

So, guess what I did? The diocesan discernment process began again with a weekend retreat last month. I didn't go. The plan is for these retreats to happen quarterly rather than annually, but this one was the first and last chance to enter the 1-year cycle in 2007 in time to complete it in summer 2008 and begin seminary in fall 2008. I just extended my own journey by another 12 months! Why?!? I don't have a nice neat answer for that. I don't doubt my faith and I don't doubt that I am experiencing a time of new calling in my life (see what spiritual direction does to your vocabulary). What I'm doubting, or perhaps stumbling over, is whether ordained ministry is the way I should respond to this call. If you accept that we are all called to some form of ministry to the world and our fellow creatures, then is this the right form of ministry for me?

And, in 1000 words or less, that's why Sunday morning is complicated for me. It's 950. Time to get ready for church.

Later that day--more about deconstructed screen printing

The tubing was fun, but I'm whipped.

Continuing the story about Peters Valley...I've done screen printing in the past and, while I like the control it can provide when it's done well, I can't say that I've ever really done it well. For the last year a lot of my work has involved fairly simple cloth manipulation (I can hardly call it shibori), low-water immersion dying/over-dying, followed by discharge and/or paint applied by stamp, stencil, and brush. I've also done some reasonably successful work with thermofax screens.

The stuff that I was doing in Kerr and Rayna's workshop has taken me to a new level, opened a lot of design possibilities, and really loosened me up. Up to now I've worked on large quilt tops that used my hand-dyed cloth, but most of those pieces of cloth were prepared as strips or as full widths of less than 1 yard. Last week in the studio I didn't touch a piece of fabric under a yard. You'd think that much empty white space would be intimidating, but it was actually liberating.

Certainly the screen allows you to deposit dye quickly over a large area, but the object isn't to just gob on dye--or at least usually it's not. What I found though was that when I looked at the screen as a dynamic mark-maker, rather than as an intimidating, technically precise stencil, I embraced a tool that allowed me to work large enough and quickly enough to force my brain into improvisational mode--if there is such a thing. No, I wasn't just grabbing any old scoop of dye paste and throwing it in the screen. I was a little more intentional than that. What I mean is that the ever-changing pattern produced by the deconstructing screen contributed enough texture and life to the finished product to allow me to to focus on color and pattern. You might say that invited or accepted the screen's participation in the process. OK, now look at the name of my BLOG and listen as I ask the essential question, "Does any of this make sense?" I've got a long way to go, but I feel like I've got a good new start.

Here are a couple of samples of pieces from the workshop that might help illustrate the point. I'll post more over the next few days.

Deconstructed screen ready to be released.

The yardage on the left is the result of printing with the screen shown above.


Screens drying in the sun and finished pieces batching in black plastic.

Why am I awake at 630?

I woke up this morning wanting to write. I guess that's a good thing. My journal hasn't seen as much action as I might like lately. I'm not sure where this BLOG will go, or even if it will, but I'm can't see it replacing entirely the experience of writing in my journal--preferably with a really good fountain pen (we'll have to discuss the fountain pen fetish another time).

If you've just read my very first post (yeah), then there's a better-than-average chance that what you're wondering about most is the God thing. Me too. I promise that I'll get to that. It's unavoidable.

For now, let's talk about the amazing experience I had last week at the Peters Valley Craft Center (www.pvcrafts.org). I went for a 5-day workshop called, "Two of a Kind: Think of Silkscreen & Batik" taught by Kerr Grabowski and Rayna Gillman (graciously stepping in for Els van Baarle, who was unable to be there). Now, I'm not exactly a veteran of dozens of fiber workshops, However, based on the few that I have taken (not to mention tons of other management workshops) I am willing to testify with conviction that there was something amazing happening in that place, in that studio, with those people. We ate, we drank, we shared stories and art, worked our asses off, and it was great.

Here's a picture of Kerr, Rayna, and Jesse (our studio assistant). The mess in the foreground is my work area. It's a mess, gosh, what a surprise.

This was my first exposure to Kerr's method of deconstructed screen printing (adding thickened dye to a screen, letting it dry, then releasing it with a sodium alginate paste--with or without added dye). It was also the first time I've done batik since I was in my teens. Combining the two--wax in the screen, wax on the cloth--added even more possibilities.

Oh shoot. Look at the time. Gotta go. I'm off to go tubing on the Shenandoah River with a bunch of friends from church. Few things are as much fun as floating down a slow river on a hot day with your ass in an inner tube.

A beginning

I suppose that I could start with a review of my entire life, with particular focus on the mental exercises and general upheaval of the past few years. I think that would be more than a little tiring for everyone involved. Besides, I'm not sure that I want to attempt that in a single session. Suffice to say for now that the following is an adequate, if categorical, description of me:

• I'm 44, which I was recently reminded is essentially mid-life.
• I've been "married" to the same man (Dan) for 16 years.
• We live in a quiet middle-class neighborhood in College Park, Maryland.
• My immediate family are all fairly close by and my parents still live in the house I grew up in. Everyone from Dan's side of the family is in New York or New Jersey, which is still pretty close.
• I work for a publisher as a project manager for internal IT projects. This job uses virtually none of what I studied in school (BS and MA in Geography). While it's financially rewarding and "challenging" it sometimes makes me feel like I'm in the wrong skin at times. I think maybe lots of people feel that way at one time or another.
• I was raised Methodist, drifted away from church, then discovered the Episcopal church as an adult. My church community and my faith are both big parts of my life.
• For the past several years, but particularly for about the last two, I've been considering seriously whether I believe I have a call to ordained ministry. "Call" is most definitely a churchy word, but I'm sure that will be addressed in detail in some future post.
• I've been an artist my entire live, but have only been willing to call myself by that name for the past year.

These two big things--art and church--are the contenders in the tug-of-war that is my life, or so it seems at times.

That's a pretty concise summary. Perhaps too concise, but it sets the stage on which the story can unfold.