Generosity I

This has always been one of the most striking aspects of the online handspinning community, especially the art-inclined, spindle-happy, walk-on-the-wild-side crowd with whom I've kept company for the past several years.  Every time I engage in a "swap," I end up receiving way more than I offered, at least to my point of view, and it's  staggering to watch the way people knock themselves out to offer More and More Interesting and More Luxurious in the general swaps on Ravelry.  There's a lively atmosphere of giving which is both refreshing and nourishing, and I literally owe the existence of most of my creative handspun yarns to the generosity of my various fiber friends.
The image above is a random view of my fiber shelves, and almost everything pictured came to me as a gift.  A sampling taken from anywhere else in my fiber storage facility (aka, our apartment) would yield the same ratio of overabundant given things. Sorting through all my fibers in a mass re-organization, I sat and contemplated all those who had given me these bits of fiber, and the feeling of gratitude swelled once again.

I almost hesitate to write about this, because a characteristic of real generosity is that people don't tend to like being called out about it. However, I have been so inundated with gifts since returning from Australia (not to mention in Australia, as you will see), it had to be documented somewhere.

(gratuitous Australia photo, since I mentioned it)

So, before I left town, we already had an ongoing swap in full swing in the Novelty and Art Yarn Spinners group on Ravelry, which had brought the following into my life:

Beautiful grey fibers, a carded batt and killer buttons
from Made by Pixies.

A glorious, endless batt from Funhouse Miki, and one of popsicletote's magical handmade spindles.

A veritable lifetime supply of dyed mohair locks (photo shows only a fraction) from Kat in Perth, who mailed them to my friends in Oz, where they were awaiting my admiration.

Then, on my last day of freedom in the Blue Mountains of NSW, I went to the home and studio of Michelle Snowdon, aka wooldancer.  This was an immersion in fiber wonderland, with handspun yarn by Michelle, her brilliant daughter, and also Lexi Boeger on display around the house, in addition to textiles and handmade toys, beanies, works-in-progress everywhere I looked.  We went out the the studio, where Michelle handed me bag after bag of fiber, including one pre-composed grab bag and one collection of items she had picked out for me.

My personal take-home stash, including a sparkly batt (lower left) carded on the spot by Miss Spinstar.

The luscious grab bag contents, and an undyed skein spun by Spinstar for dyeing experiments.

All the contents of the grab bag are now on this spindle, as of yesterday:

I spun the whole lot, then plied the singles back onto itself, which I may do once more (this is Michelle's influence, she is into prolific plying lately, and it's catching.) I managed to pay for some very small amount of what I took away from Michelle's house - fiber is her business, after all, and I had come there intending to actually purchase some fiber.  But on my way out the door, she lobbed the gift of all gifts at me, and remembering this moment still makes me lose my hold on words (this sentence took a long time to type.)

Handspun yarn by Michelle Snowdon, genius.

I wore it around my neck, and photographed it against the backdrop of the Blue Mountains, whose landscape reflects the colors in the yarn, as I was to observe over the next few weeks of silence.

And you know what?  I thought this was going to be one post, including all the bounty that met me upon my return, but I'm going to stop here and save the rest for its own entry, since this post has gotten so big. How apt that the topic of generosity overflows into more than one entry.

Tour

I did the Tour de Fleece for the fist time this year.  For those who don't know, it's a spinning event concurrent with the Tour de France.  Handspinners challenge themselves to spin every day that the Tour rides, and we join various teams and set our own goals and it's just fun.

I kept thinking I'd blog about it, but as the days went by, it was all I could do to keep up with the Tour and my goals.  I spun each day while watching the live stream of the Tour on a laptop.  We're close enough to the French time zone to watch it live, which added to the excitement and motivation.

Watching the cyclists go all out certainly helped me push myself, when I got tired of the difficulties of unfamiliar spindles.  My goal was to spin up and ply some yarn for weaving on traditional Bolivian and Peruvian low-whorl spindles.  I also did some wheel spinning, finishing up a motley sock yarn, and even had a couple of art yarn bursts - wild sprints that broke up the monotony of the plain yarns.

Since I'm leaving town like, now, I've just uploaded a bunch of my Tour photos and put myself at the mercy of Blogger.  No messing with order or size or anything, just adding some text.

It's nice to have some finished yarn out of this deal.

Oh, and yesterday I plied some cotton.  From now on, my Tour spinning is going mobile, and will be mostly cotton, silk, and some fiber I've ordered in Oz.

And here are the guys when they were in Doha back in February.  There's a Tour of Qatar every year, and some of the big teams and riders show up. No crowds and flat terrain - it must be a very different experience for them.

Is that Cavendish??  I didn't even know them before this month - I've learned a lot about the Tour de France, and about spinning and my own abilities.

Now, off to Australia, and I don't know if I'll post again until September.

Ouerjan!

This is my favorite weaving pattern in Bedouin textiles, the one that always catches my attention and makes me smile in recognition.  Simple and subtle, it’s a prototypical Bedu pattern, and this may be why I like it so much.  I’m drawn to the basic, foundational marks that identify the origins of a piece.  

The graphic element is also compelling: scintillating patterns of dots, elusive in their simplicity.

In fact, this pattern is trickier than it looks, requiring a specific warp arrangement.

I know that now, because I’ve woven it!  I’ve been admiring it for a while, and feeling confused by it, thinking it mustn’t be that hard, but still failing to understand how it worked. Finally convinced myself to just try it, to confront it in person.  This is the only way for me to really learn anything about weaving – if I haven’t tried it, I have no hope of understanding.

I did not expect to warp correctly the first time.  Warping is my weak point, and I knew the first one might be an experiment in how to do it wrong.  But with the help of Joy Totah Hilden’s drafting chart in her Bedouin Weaving book, and the close examination of actual woven pieces, I made a warp, and it worked!  Even as I began to weave, I still didn’t understand how the pattern was going to form, but then it showed itself, and I recognized it.

I first learned the term for this pattern in Hilden's book, where it is written al'ouerjan (pronounced like "all wear jahn".) Then I went to the souq, and sure enough, the weaver there pointed out these sections of the weavings, saying "ouerjan, ouerjan."  She also showed me a two-color version, in a striking salmon and green combination, which she calls ouerjan med-khar.

Now that I've tried it, I feel even more affinity for this expressive pattern, and it jumps out at me from every corner of the rug souq.

Out of context

I took a rather neglected spindle-in-progress to the fitness club, to spin a little before spinning class (I like to bring together the two types of spinning, just for fun.)  It was in the pocket of my jacket, and since the room was cold and I started cycling in my jacket, I took out the spindle and put it on the floor beneath my handlebars.

Aspire Dome, the fitness club (shown in winter - now the sky is white)

I had a good view of it during the class, and from that angle, under the bright fluorescent lights, it looked extremely beautiful.  As I pumped my legs and sweat dripped off my chin, I felt a longing for the spindle and the elegant blended fiber.  The feeling was so powerful that it carried over after class, after going home, and I’ve picked up this spindle again and devoted fresh energy to this particular yarn, for the first time in weeks.

Mixed in with all my spindles, fibers, yarns, WIP’s, and textiles, this spindle and fiber had become just another one.  It was in a queue, waiting its turn along with a half dozen spindles-in-progress.  I had to see it completely out of context, all alone in the big, cold world of shiny gym machines and loud, driving music, to realize its power and beauty again.

I’ll remember this next time a project drags, or feels old and dull.  Take it out somewhere, look at it alone, where it’s the most beautiful thing in sight, and remember how lucky I am to have so many of these things going on.

Abby's Batt, Nine Wine Whine, on Bosworth Mini

Friday morning in February

syria a video by thnomad on Flickr.

I haven't gone back to Syria, probably couldn't right now, but my mind keeps going there, hoping for peace.

This is from behind the Ummayed Mosque in Damascus, on a rainy Friday before things changed.

String

I've been visiting Souq Waqif here in Doha regularly, particularly the small arcade where Qatari women sell rugs and other woven textiles.  There is so much to see that I'm overwhelmed each time.

I've been focused on the women's spinning and weaving, obvious uses of string that are most interesting to me, and I've been gratified to see both in action.

However, I keep noticing how often they are making different types of string for different uses, and how easily a strong bit of rope is simply accomplished from the bits at hand.

This is second nature for a nomadic people who have lived in tents and herded animals in the desert for centuries.  Camel leads and hobbles, reins, straps and saddle belts have been handcrafted as part of daily existence, along with the walls of the tent, the ropes for securing them, and all kinds of bags and rugs.

As a result, there is a huge variety of techniques, with string that is braided, wrapped, woven, wound, twisted, and very often tasselled, depending on its intended use.

Here, she is about to put her palms together against that double strand of two-ply yarn, and twist it smoothly into a cabled length to use as a tie.  Each tie takes only a few seconds of fluid motion.

I had been pleased to find evidence of handspun yarn in the souq, but it's clear that this is only one among many ways these women have of creating the things they have traditionally needed.

This arcade is filled with countless other examples of useful string, colorful and elegant, widening my appreciation for Bedouin craftswomen and their timeless knowledge.

Meanwhile, my own experiments with string continue.