The first flight of unease

In my month home, I was able to work on some new bricks. These have lots of milkweed seeds and coma mixed into the beater with the abaca and cotton, leftover from a teaching gig. I am realizing more and more that I am mostly interested in working with what I have, what's left over, making do. Being frugal and being able to transform and reuse material seems like a much more important skill to have than imagining something and then working with only exactly the perfect materials that I order fresh.

I brought some molds and pressed paper home so that I could cycle through a couple rounds of bricks without having to go back and forth to the studio, since by the end of my month, there was too much to take care of at home. 

This is something I wanted to do right after my Cali trip but didn't get a chance to do that until just a few nights ago.

Before sewing (all the papers made in my new studio with my new mould!), and

after sewing.

I also got very intense about cooking at home and trying new things, like a Spanish tortilla! I can't believe I managed to flip this one without major disaster. It didn't last long and was my packed lunch for after a physical when I was ravenous after fasting for bloodwork. Later that week I got an MRI, so I really packed in the medical stuff while I could.

But the major thing that kept me from my work was what this garden supply business calls Procrastiplanting! This is my first spring at home in a WHILE, and I felt my window to take care of spring yardwork was really small and fleeting. So when a tree guy came out for an estimate and noted that I hadn't mulched in a while, I realized, I really had not! Not for years! How would I know these things?? After my first year of home ownership where I tried to get a few bags from a big box store and spread it myself, I decided to take the plunge and get yardage delivered.

Well, that was extremely stupid. Years ago I had paced out my border to calculate what I needed, and it was only about one cubic yard for an inch of mulch. But I couldn't find the paper where I had scrawled out my numbers and thought I wrote, "1.9" when actually, when I found it after the fact, it was "1.1". The minimum order was three cubic yards and the guy said it's "not a big pile" so I ordered 3 and 3, compost and bark mulch. This load of compost mulch arrived first, and immediately I thought, uhoh. Thankfully, when I called in a panic, he let me cancel the second order.

I know the pile looks THE SAME, but this was at the end of the day, working three hours with a local 7th grader, and then a bunch on my own. I had already started weeding beds a week prior, and the morning the mulch arrived, I woke up to a bad twinge in my left hip flexor. By lunch, I knew I had already shredded all of my soft tissue but had to keep working. For over a week, I worked daily so that it was gone by the next week when rain was forecast. But I could barely walk, stand up from the toilet, climb the stairs, sit, lay down, etc. Two PTs and a massage therapist didn't address the core issue even though I told them I was in excruciating pain, and where. Go figure.

Because I had planted in such disorganized ways over the years, I have a really crowded area here and then empty spots. But it's a miracle that I even got to see the columbine get to nearly flowering as well as the other plants, because normally the critters eat everything but the milkweed and anise hyssop down to the ground. I may not get to see the purple flowers because today I flew to Dallas.

On a brief walk behind the hotel I saw lots of fancy homes and pristine lawns. I was so upset at the Cleveland airport, on the plane, and landing in Dallas, because almost no one is wearing masks. It completely dumbfounded me, that THIS MANY people think that it's a good idea not to look out for each other by doing this very simple thing that is proven effective. I also was upset about the recent racist Dallas shootings of Korean women in Koreatown, so I felt like either Covid will get me or a rabid gunman will. What a country to live in.

Judah is right next to my classroom for the workshop/conference that starts tomorrow. Fortunately, it's two days instead of a million, and my hosts are extremely organized and on top of things and really know how to handle hospitality.

This is a famous press and I forgot the name already. But what caught my eye was the two-on mould that I saw in a corner and then pulled out. Jesse let me put it on the table to take a better look. 

No one is using it and the ribs and facing on at least one edge have pulled away from the outer frame but it was fun to see.

This is the conservation lab where Jesse works and it is very nice.

I love the color coding that requires no words!

And of course, my eye fell to the top of the room this time to a mould that had a new weird deckle on it. We removed that and I was amazed by the watermark work on this. I can't even read it but the details were so fine that I could barely understand what was going on with it.

This is what's crazy: the darker mesh is much finer, and sewn carefully into a HOLE in the regular facing!

Here is the backside of it. I'm assuming the rounder wire lines are helping to support the squiggles that are sunken down to create darker areas in the paper because more pulp will lay in there. I wish I knew where this mould came from and who worked on this facing. Time to lay down as the next few days will be full with the conference and then another scary flight home.

Old home, new home

Sewing scraps is always very soothing, though also flares up my tennis elbow (from work, not tennis!) and stuff in my hand and shoulders. It also messes with my back and hips and feels similarly to what happens when I drive, which is mostly why I avoid and dread long drives. Who thought the ergonomics of driving should be/stay this way? But it's hard to stop sewing, as there is never any end to the scraps. This random bit is from a friend, a friend's mom, and old clothes.

This is the book I had been thinking about and mocking up since before my Bay Area trip, maybe even before UAE. I am not convinced but it has been a long and grand experiment, and a good way to figure out how the studio works. 

The hanji embedded here in abaca is what I made when I first moved my papermaking stuff to my basement years ago while waiting for the studio to be ready. I had added kakishibu powder to the sheets, which works well for 2-ply hanji. But the hanji is really not interested in fusing with the abaca, no surprise. It can't, and the persimmon makes it even more resistant.

I had to oxiclean this batch and it was not even 50% as nice as it was when I left it, but there was just no time to pull all of it before I left, so that's why I came home to the mold in there. Besides, abaca turns immediately.

Scenes from cleanup: my cheat sheets to figure out which printed papers went where and in which direction, and my new favorite Tim Moore mould. I'm so grateful to have a light one, given how much PT I've been doing on my shoulder.

The Aardvark Press, in the useless corridor that I should never have let the architect draw in the first place. I didn't realize that we'd be digging up the floor regardless for the floor drain in the beater room, so it would have been on the way if we just put the sink against the same wall instead of the half wall here. I really wanted to tell the contractor to stop when I saw him framing it out but it wasn't my call. The new idea is to use the leftover laminate sheeting to cover parts of this side of the half wall to use to dry more paper.

The lovingly-made drybox by Jim Elling, one of his last ones. I love it and wish I hadn't cut my blotting layers an inch too short.

Since the ceilings are really high, I want to rig clotheslines that sit on a frame that goes up and down on a pulley like in Kalamazoo, but for now I figure out anywhere to hang. This is not a good solution without sandbagging/weighing the feet of the grids, which are not structurally strong.

I had all this energy over the weekend to start weeding my beds to prepare for compost and mulch, but then I tired out REAL FAST and have been avoiding weeding for the last two days. Yesterday I saw a broken egg and moved this bit to the side of the driveway so I wouldn't run it over and then feel even more sad.

Today on my late walk I saw this one next to the new tree on the tree lawn. Sigh. But soup is on the stove and the windows are open...mostly to air out the house because I didn't know that the gas was on with no flame for a while. That doesn't explain my vertigo but it doesn't help! Just two weeks until Dallas and still not all here, but I suspect that it mixed with deep hurt about how politics here spends so much time in hateful places. Hating women is so tiresome. Let us BE. And fingers crossed that the Korean burdock seeds I planted last fall next to this new tree take!

Recovery goes slowly

I'm still not anywhere near settled at home but I am so glad that I get this month at home, the first time I've been able to stay here for more than a week or two since December. As Velma reminds me, after the travel and intense work, you need time for the spirit to rejoin the body. I'm getting there but still need more time. I knew yesterday that things were looking up when I attempted a repair I've put off for two years, and today when I cleared some leaves from the side border that I never see AND took a walk! But less than a couple of weeks ago, Teddy picked me up in San Francisco and drove me to Berkeley and fed me and took me on a walk where I marveled at what people can do with gardens in a mild climate. From one window of her beautiful art-filled home, I saw this tree.

After being delivered from there to my next housing for the night, I marveled again at the things that sit outside windows. In this case, Helena and Rob have one of these installed both indoors and out and I love it. Very smart and functional, someday I'll build one for the studio. Their home was another dream come true, so thoughtfully designed and constructed in the ways that I wish more people built these days, thinking of energy and how we access and use it, and how much you can do in a small footprint.

The show opening I went to that afternoon at the UC Berkeley environmental design library was lovely and I barely got to see the art because there were so many people to catch up with. It was disconcerting to see how many people were maskless but it was fun to see my new duck book near Islam Aly's and Luz Marina Ruiz's work, really nice to also catch up with them in person after years of last contact.

Then the big event the following day. A student was kind and generous enough to shuttle me over to Richmond for the first day of Codex. I was sharing a table with other members of the Book/Print Artist/Scholar of Color Collective, and was so happy to be able to meet not only them (here, Tia and Allison are pictured), but the others in our neighborhood (Tia had wisely requested Codex to place member tables together so we could help each other with breaks, sharing food, and so on). From the first day we had a lot of unexpected disruption but it all worked out in the end, and I am really glad to have participated.

Because I was totally wiped out after a week of teaching and not sleeping, a dear student drove me from Codex to share Korean dinner with Youngmin, who would be hosting me for a while (she had already come out to take me from the book show to my lodging, then to dinner with the good and wonderful folks from Bainbridge Island Museum of Art, and then back to my lodging). All I wanted to was hot soup and that's what I got.

It was great to see Ellie again, who was very curious about all of the goodies. Being with a non-human mammal who demanded a lot of petting was wonderful therapy.

There is SO MUCH to see at Youngmin's house and what I shot does it zero justice but that's because I didn't want to take pictures, I just wanted to be with her. These are lovely pincushions all with the special touch at top that is deceptively easy to make. Seeing hers (I had gotten her pattern when pandemic started or maybe slightly before?) made me realize I had stuffed mine too tightly, so I loosened it last night to be more functional.

This is much more luminous than what you see, since the light isn't coming through the back, but she is an incredible artist who can do anything with a needle!

Here is another beautiful jogakbo piece. I don't even remember how long it had been since I last stayed with her, but from the first night we were up late talking and sharing things that only certain friends can understand: to be in this Korean/American space, to have a certain type of expertise and what demands that entails, to know how to take care of ourselves. She's much better than me at the latter, so I learned a lot just from being around her and observing.

Aside from the delicious food she cooked at home, we also got to have dim sum, which, again, I haven't been able to have since pre-pandemic.

After going to the fabric store to get more laminated cotton to make more papermaking aprons (we had done this on our last trip, too!), we stopped at Berkeley Bowl and I was pretty dumbfounded. This was a really hard part of returning to Ohio after the bounty of delicious fresh food that I was able to enjoy.

She was also super game when I suggested Ethiopian for dinner (again, not since pre-pandemic!). All I did was gorge myself, and I had a great time doing it.

While I knew that the collective table could have used more help, I needed one more day "off," and was so delighted when Youngmin and I pulled up to Moya's beautiful home and saw the impeccable spread she had prepared for us for lunch. This is only a snippet, and I got to take the jam home, from her orchard! So many treats were from the garden and even though it was raining, she rigged heat lamps so we could sit in the garage and look outside and stay well ventilated—and so well fed. It was such an important reminder to take joy in the details, and to use the beautiful things we own, whether heirlooms or found or made, to make every day special.

Inside, I was shocked to see some type of tapa! It was passed down in her partner's family without info on provenance, and falling apart, so he turned it into a little installation. After finally meeting Lisa and being able to hear more about her kapa training in Hawai'i, it was like kismet.

I also deeply envied their fruit trees, like this giant fig. Which is also a great fiber tree (for amatl in present-day Mexico).

This was my final dinner with Youngmin. She truly took care of every detail and I could not have asked for a better host in between teaching gigs and during Codex.

My last full day I was able to teach a lovely group of women in Barbara Shapiro's gorgeous new studio. I definitely was in tears hugging goodbye to Youngmin, just as I had been crying when hugging hello to Tam and Velma in SF and Richmond, and this felt like a true reminder of how important these connections are, after having survived this ongoing pandemic.

Of course, I couldn't get off the wheel and booked a brunch date for the day that I left, right along the Embarcadero, with a dear friend's daughter who is finishing up her post-doc at Stanford and getting ready to start a tenure-track job downstate. THEN I could finally get to the airport for the flight home.

And because I'm a fool, I scheduled a lecture/demo at Kent State University for days after my arrival. But it was great to see the new paper studio within the printmaking department, and to meet Leigh, who is behind it all.

They were fortunate to have floor drains nearby and she showed me all of the things she had built or ordered to transform this crit space.

The students were really engaged and wonderful, and I was so glad that they prepped all the fiber ahead of time rather than making me do it (always the sign of a good teacher). This weekend, I'm hoping for some more full unwinding before I get back into the work saddle. For now, eating lots of chocolate and so grateful to feel nourished and expanded by a far-flung but loving community.

Links:

Velma Bolyard

Teddy Milder

Helena Meyer-Knapp

Islam Aly

Luz Marina Ruiz

The Collective

Tia Blassingame

Allison Leialoha Milham

Lisa Rodondi

Youngmin Lee

BIMA Cynthia Sears Artist's Book Collection

Moya Stone

Barbara Shapiro

J. Leigh Garcia

From California with love

This was my panic the day before I flew to San Francisco almost two weeks ago.

Quick pickling red onions is a great way to get more skins for dye to teach class.

Sue managed to make this many hanji cords on day 1. That is a LOT for someone who just learned how.

Lots of cooking all week for bark lace, yellow onion skins, red onion skins, brazilwood, and then scalding badly a dried pomegranate that Servane found at home. That's my fault, I always forgot pots on heat.

I got to see Tam for dinner my first night after class started and this was on the way. I wish I could say that I've been sleeping, since every place I'm staying is so comfortable, but I'm not.

I forgot my phone (aka camera) one day so I missed the really wonderful bark lace shots but the dyeing was a big hit and it was so great to have an outdoor space to work.

Jennie was a giant help (at left) with my lecture midweek, and Alisa was a fantastic intern who was able to slot into class and had incredible hand skills. She's prepping more paper thread spinning here.

Michelle got really into casting bark and making flowers all week.

And Lars and Lisa got back to the bark later in the week. I had a WONDERFUL group and wish I had better documentation but I was in my teaching madness. Then I went into Codex madness. Today is the last day! Come by table #53 where I'll be for the Book/Print Collective. Three members gave a great online talk that I recommend highly.

After that, one more teaching gig buried amidst seeing loved ones. I'm out of my mind, more later!