On my way up to stay with my brother for the weekend I counted the minutes and hours peel away as I sat in traffic first on the Merritt Parkway and then on Rt 95. Hours counting the amount of work I was not able to do while sitting inexplicable parking snarls along the Northeast Corridor.
I've gone up to RI to the home of my parents which is now occupied by my brother Chris and his wife Meghan who is a master weaver. I wanted first to be able to spend some Q-time with my 6 year old niece Ghislaine and her 3 year old brother Joseph. Secondly Meghan was re-warping her 6 treadle floor loom and promised allow me to assist her. Third my brother is amazing in his ability to fix and make things. He promised to help me construct frames for several large paintings I've been working on. Many reasons to return home. I continued to count more as soon as I arrived. Five to remember the presence of my parents through the sound of classical radio WCRB in the kitchen; the bird song clock, which was my mother's; the garbage disposal sound which I always associate with my dad. Additionally walking around the house and the yard evoked so many years of being on this property with my parents, for our wedding reception which occurred in the yard under a big tent and then for years with my own children who ran around and played where I now saw my nephew and niece.
Counting became the focus of my evening as Meghan taught me how to measure the warp for the loom using a warping board. The counting becomes a focus and a rhythmic practice as you move back and forth with the yarn looping under and over and crossing thread at the appropriate spots.
Meghan said after awhile I wouldn't need to count because muscle memory would take over.
I found with my little niece and nephew playing "car' on the furniture nearby it was hard to focus.
I needed to count as a form of focus. Meghan speculated that the color and texture of the yarn could affect focus depending upon how attracted or repelled you were by it. This seems a fine research question for materials in the therapeutic use of fiber arts. Laying the warp on the warping board is a contemplative practice and could be used to transform traumatic memory.
I've gone up to RI to the home of my parents which is now occupied by my brother Chris and his wife Meghan who is a master weaver. I wanted first to be able to spend some Q-time with my 6 year old niece Ghislaine and her 3 year old brother Joseph. Secondly Meghan was re-warping her 6 treadle floor loom and promised allow me to assist her. Third my brother is amazing in his ability to fix and make things. He promised to help me construct frames for several large paintings I've been working on. Many reasons to return home. I continued to count more as soon as I arrived. Five to remember the presence of my parents through the sound of classical radio WCRB in the kitchen; the bird song clock, which was my mother's; the garbage disposal sound which I always associate with my dad. Additionally walking around the house and the yard evoked so many years of being on this property with my parents, for our wedding reception which occurred in the yard under a big tent and then for years with my own children who ran around and played where I now saw my nephew and niece.
Counting became the focus of my evening as Meghan taught me how to measure the warp for the loom using a warping board. The counting becomes a focus and a rhythmic practice as you move back and forth with the yarn looping under and over and crossing thread at the appropriate spots.
Meghan said after awhile I wouldn't need to count because muscle memory would take over.
I found with my little niece and nephew playing "car' on the furniture nearby it was hard to focus.
I needed to count as a form of focus. Meghan speculated that the color and texture of the yarn could affect focus depending upon how attracted or repelled you were by it. This seems a fine research question for materials in the therapeutic use of fiber arts. Laying the warp on the warping board is a contemplative practice and could be used to transform traumatic memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please tell me what good thing you encountered today.