Every planet returns
A big, much bigger knitted book. Nothing in it yet (not even enough pages), but it feels like a nice pillow.
Joomchi-ed hanji sewn and joomchi-ed again. Today I deal with the "do it later" aspect of these pieces: hanging. I've done two and have two more left, as I try to figure out better dowel and sleeve mechanisms.
Yesterday was full of drama, the worst kind (involving companies that don't care about customers, screw them over, destroy their property, and waste their time). So I didn't get to find a place to print my manuscript. Instead, I kept my hands busy. I hauled out the sewing machine, took apart an old joomchi piece, sewed it together again, and then joomchied it again. The jury is still out on how it holds together in its new version. I also watched a sweet video on tying scarves. SO FUN. Today, more errands, lots of knitting, and hoping the storm passes quickly (while testing new scarf knots and twists).
I had submitted to this book last year but was never quite sure I had made the cut, even though I got the email that I did. It has finally been published, but took a while to get from the UK. I like that my work is on the same page as a Japanese artist doing something very similar to what I started to do a few months ago. Meanwhile, I'm starting the cusp week (Nov/Dec!) with a strong cup of green tea, sad from the news of another death. Since this summer, I had been supporting one friend through her mother's terminal cancer battle, and reading about another. A few weeks ago, the mother passed. Yesterday, a father. This has been a long, hard year.
I am not a fan of the holiday season; I don't like all the slowing down, constant eating, dark days, gathering, and strange behavior. I don't like to feel like a pile of wet clothes, because it's hard to continue working at the clip that I label "fast enough." But even if this year is a bust, maybe next year will be better. Maybe I will spend less days contemplating my death and more days living my life. And I'll teach again, as soon as February in NYC at the Center for Book Arts. It will be nice to have a class not so far from home. No driving or flying necessary!
[Barens are so expensive. Here I am, trying to rig something on my own. Likely failure, but I can't not try.] It's hard to keep the energy up now that the furor of "holiday" season is bearing down. I'm in what I hope is the last 'hardest' part of the writing, but it's slo o o o o ow. I did get to go over some simple bindings today with Terttu that made me wonder what it would be like to teach private lessons in books. Would it be less stressful than teaching private lessons in violin? Probably.
After reading Melissa's blog last night and Velma's today, I got very itchy in a baby sister kind of way and went out to get the last bits of the "golden hour" of sun and work on rubbings for a book for a friend. I'm grateful for the good influences that got me out a tiny bit.
I had a funny conversation with my sister about if I had mis-shot in my career aspirations, and that if I had only been better at math, I wouldn't have veered off into music. I failed to get into a summer math camp (I know, that sounds ridiculous) b/c all I did was use trial-and-error to solve the problems on the application. I had a great calculus teacher, but I was awful at it. I had a fantastic orchestra teacher, and it made me want to make music with other people (even though I had a very grumpy violin teacher that made me reluctant to go to lessons and relieved when they were over). Reading this brain book made me realize I lucked out with a great violin teacher in college, who already knew everything in the book, and taught me to about mental practice (SO hard and more exhausting than physically practicing). He also promised that as long as I could move my fingers in SOME manner at the fastest vibration possible in my body, it would transfer to my loose and slow vibrato. So we practiced trills. I still have a motion-sickness-inducing vibrato, but I think if I had more time with that last teacher, I might have been able to disable the years of less targeted learning (AND the erosion of self-esteem + belief I could never get a tight, "acceptable" technique).
I am SO loving this book that I am reading about the brain. It's kind of hilarious (and sad and typical all at the same time) that for so long, scientists considered the brain more of a machine, while now the view is shifting to seeing it more like a living creature. HELLO! We are animals! Of course our organs are like animals, too. Anyhow, Julie had recommended it to me since it offers possibilities for a recovery that has eluded her for years. Yesterday I had to keep my hands working, so I sized paper (first failing miserably and then doing a little better) and at night carved this tiny block! In line with the way that the brain shifts and learns and changes, I was amazed by how just a month ago I was quite averse to carving wood, but already I miss doing it and am itching to do more.
I got to see Jami this weekend, which was a big treat, because
While killing time before our date, I saw these worry dolls and could not NOT buy them. A schooldays acquaintance had given me a hairpin back when I was maybe an early teenager, with these glued on, and I loved it. I doubt I will lay in bed and tell them my worries, since there are too many cracks near my bed into which they could fall, but I am fascinated by seeing them now and realizing that I am more interested in figuring out how to make them. And I can figure it out now, which might not have been the case decades ago. Meanwhile, I am back to work after a few days off and away from home, and decided to forgo another residency application. It's strange to not apply to everything under the sun, to be more thoughtful about my selections, but it's good practice for a shift away from frantic behavior.
It's noisy tonight with all of this hanji coated in rice paste snapping off of the plexi that is not really restraining it. I'll experiment with it when I actually get to printing, but that may be far off. I've carved wood for two weeks and am not as far along as I'd like, but decided to stop before losing all fine detail so I can consult with my teacher first and improve my technique.
At least, that's how the weekend felt, though work was still sitting in the front of my brain, the throne of stress. The respite I had was with Terttu at the Noguchi Museum. What a beautiful, wordless space.
