Steps for successful work

Done!

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Back in October of 2018, I was talking to my husband about the mythical weave shed that I imagined for myself. I may have been talking about it for the past several years, to the point where the myth was taking a very definite shape in my mind. In October, we both started talking about it as if it were a real thing, and it was just that simple – one of us said “we could actually do it, you know” and the plan started to take shape.

So, Berwick Weaving Company now has an actual building to itself, and I could not be happier. Have you ever made something happen, from dream-to-actuality, and at the end of it realize that you have literally made your dream come true?

I have, and it’s terrific.

The road to the studio, from when we hired someone to when it was finished, was surprisingly short. We got quotes in October/November, and they started the building process in January. Working through a wet and windy wintertime, the studio emerged in about 4 months. They were quiet, respectful, and responsive. I am happy with our builder, Bentley Built Homes. It may be the first weave studio they’ve built, but it may not be their last.

Before, and after.

It wasn’t always entirely smooth, but putting it all in perspective the process was remarkably freer of angst and stress than I had expected. The building is so quiet, and such a difference from the old weave room that looked out over a busy street! It’s warm, sturdy, and peaceful. It’s tucked in underneath my favorite old maple tree, and looks remarkably like it’s been there for ages already (though I do need to do some landscaping).

It took about a week to move everything in and organize it all – organization was always my biggest worry, because weaving comes with a lot of gear. But I’ve been in the studio, working, for about 3 or 4 days now, and I really couldn’t be happier. The efficiency one gets from knowing where everything is in a space, from everything having a place, is valuable.

The studio is not a retail space; it’s really just a more private and efficient space for me to work. I do plan on setting up a studio tour maybe, and as always if people want to visit they can message me through Berwick Weaving Co.’s facebook page or email me and set something up. I am “open by chance” – no set hours.

For those of you interested in that storage I keep talking about:

These shelves are terrific. Taking advantage of the 10 foot high ceilings, the shelf is eight feet high, and eight feet wide. Twelve inch deep shelves, so I don’t lose anything behind something else. I was shocked at the amount of fibre I actually had – in the old weave room everything was compressed, or boxed, so I had no real idea until I took it all out there and started sorting! I love it, and every time I look at it, I am inspired. I find it so useful to have it all out, and in view.

Some weavers keep their fibre stored in plastic boxes, or tubs. I just can’t do it. This will require more dusting than if I’d chosen to do that, but it’s worth it.

On the other side of the room, I chose to repurpose shelves I’d had made for my in-house weave room. I’m very happy I did – I love the look of them, and the cubbies will prove useful.

I’ve managed to fit all the looms in, save one small rigid heddle loom I decided to keep in the house. It’s a convenient size to use in front of the tv, or in the sitting room.

I found a place for my beloved mangle, and put a good sized table in as a workspace, or for (future, planned) teaching space.

I love this space, and am over the moon with it. I look forward to many happy hours in there. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Progress, and Planning.

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Things are pretty exciting here these days, as far as the construction of the studio goes. The back garden is transformed, and it has made me realize just how different something can look if you change one thing (or, in this case, a progression of small things that are turning into an entirely new view).

We began with this:

The day the Big Adventure started. The old garden shed is now gone.

And today, this is the view.

Window day! As cold a day as you can imagine, and the workmen were stalwart and hardy

Quite a progression!

It’s really quite something to see a building happen. Those men are nothing short of heroic – framing in sleet, roofing in snow, installing windows in frostbite conditions! I keep thinking of the lovely warm studio I’ll be sitting in next winter, but those guys must be cursing this weaver and her stupid studio, I swear.

My big disappointment this week was that they put the windows in and then nailed plywood over the doorway. I had been planning on creeping in there after they left, to dream about the layout of shelves etc. As disappointments go, this is pretty far down on the list so I’m not going to complain.

What my impatient desire to see inside it says to me is that I have, in a way, forgotten that there’ll be plenty of time later to be inside it. It’s a funny thing, magicking a building out of nothing – you get so caught up in the planning and process that you forget the reality of it – that one day (fairly soon!) they’ll tidy up and leave, and I’ll have whole new routine – walking out there of a morning to sit in a pool of sunshine and weave away the hours.

And a new routine is needed. These past grey winter weeks I’ve been very excited about the process of planning projects, but not so great on the follow-through. Kind of like, well, my feelings about the building going up out back. The planning has been terrific, but the reality of it means work.

Linen warp, wound on the reel. One of my favorite parts of the process – out of chaos comes order and beauty

It’s easy enough to feel like you’re doing something when you’re planning – researching, reading, winding warps…. These are the recent ones; busy work because I’ve been reluctant to get my arse on the weave bench and just do it. The weather isn’t helping, and I had a touch of the flu, and I just haven’t been dedicated. The current weave room is crowded and not entirely conducive to actually spending time in it, and the human brain is capable of a multitude of excuses.

But I think that we all go through dry spells, right? Times when we spend more time thinking about what we’ll do than actually doing it? I’ve struggled with this the past few weeks and have come to realize that it’s all actually part of the process. We aren’t machines – we need to take time to dream and plan, to make mistakes (cut off warps that just don’t do it for us, to flip through one draft after another, and find none that speak to you). This is fairly fertile ground – it’s a way to refocus, to experiment, and to visualize the things we make – be they scarves or tea towels, or studios.

We can’t beat ourselves up because we aren’t producing all the time. We need downtime to figure out what we’ll produce; to think and dream and visualize. We tend not to prioritize this part of it, because we live in a culture that privileges busy over calm. We can’t fit this part of the process into the interstices – we need to allow it, and use it, and wait until we feel that spark again, right?

So maybe it’s not a dry spell, but a fertile moment. A moment when we germinate ideas and our sense of what our practice is. In the Spring (soon to come) these seeds sown now will begin to sprout and grow. Like this idea that became a hole in the ground, then became a studio, good things come from these times when we are quiet and thoughtful.

I dragged my long-suffering husband through IKEA this past week, looking for storage solutions for the studio. I don’t want to buy anything until I can stand in the space and think about it, until I have exact measurements and a plan, so all I wanted to do was to look and touch things to help with the planning. He trudged, dead-eyed, through the store, while I learned this sort of thing is best done alone, or with a like-minded girlfriend. I have narrowed it down, though, so even though it caused him some distress, I have a better idea of what I’m going to do inside.

“Billy” bookcases with these lovely cubbies, as opposed to long shelves. Perfect for sorting fibre

“Gnedby” – I assume they’re actually meant for CD storage, but will be perfect for 8/2 cottons

I’ve settled on a mixture of “Billy” bookcases with “Gnedby” sections for the smaller 8/2 cotton. The ceilings of the studio are 10 ft high, so there will be room for Billy extensions. Billy can be installed either with or without glass doors, so some of it will have doors – the sections closest to the window with southern exposure, and those in which I’ll be storing inventory.

So, as with my weaving practice, the studio build also requires some quiet moments in which to plan the final products. It’s not about producing, but about producing well after contemplation and planning.

Anatomy of a design: or, the accidental birth of a scarf

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Right around the end of last year I went to my favorite farm wool shop and there was a pile of one of my most-loved fibres on sale. It was deeply discounted, so I grabbed quite a few skeins.

Step 1: Find a sale

Step 1: Find a sale

I do this a lot – I get the wool, and then just kind of play with it – the color, the texture, the feelings it evokes.  There’s a lot of serendipity in it – it depends on what’s available that day, the light in the store, my mood… what’s on sale. This is, in many ways, one of my favorite parts of the creative process . It is difficult to parse the steps in this sort of decision making, but it’s good to learn to recognize that quickening one gets when one is on the right track. I do know that when I ignore my hunches in these matters, I usually end up with something that I do not find entirely pleasing.

With this particular addition to my stash, I had no real idea of what I would do with it, but I had picked up a color I don’t usually use – yellow. That bright yellow skein, through whatever alchemy of mind and memory, made me think of Hudson’s Bay blankets. So I made sure to pick up the other colors necessary for that classic design and decided to create an homage.  I say that because I’m fairly sure there’s a copyright of some sort on using the term “Hudson’s Bay”…. what I wanted to make was something that would evoke those same feelings that the iconic design would do – it’s Canadian, retro, and instantly recognizable.

Step 2: Make sure it's a GOOD sale

Step 2: Make sure it’s a GOOD sale

So, I went home and had those skeins and had an idea, and was inspired. It was glorious, and I knew JUST how it would look and feel to work with it, and wear it. I had images of a whole series of pieces using this theme. It was going to be so great.

Then I went on holiday for three weeks.

Step… on in, the water is fine!

When we arrived in Belize, the palette was completely different. The seasons and plants around me in Canada had been preparing me slowly for the inevitable winter:  greys and browns and muted colours. Indirect sun, the somewhat mixed joys of bright red parkas and new mittens. That’s where I was in my head, and that’s how “Hudson’s Bay” instead of “Sunlight” came to my head when I saw yellow wool.

Belize knocked that right out of my head. All of a sudden it was hot pink bougainvillaea and cerulean sea. Hot blues and greens, bright pinks, reds and warm browns. Coconuts, mangrove deep-greens, and the candy colors of the houses on the street. I spent a lot of time taking photos of things not only to capture the moment, but also to capture the color combinations, the moods, and the surprising mixes of texture. (look for work soon, using this palette)

So. Once back home and happy from the holiday, but a little run down from being ill while away – Belizean germs are tenacious  – I returned to my planned homage to Hudson’s Bay and in a burst of energy (some of it, perhaps, drug-induced?) I warped the loom and set to work.

And here’s the thing. You can have all the inspiration in the world, and have terrific seawool yarn (a mix of merino and sea cell) in the right colors and at the right price. You can have time and space and desire. But unless all of it “works” in that indefinable way that makes something a successful design idea, you’re in trouble.

I warped the loom quickly and with less attention, perhaps, than usual. Hey, I’ve done this a million times….this is old hat, right?

Step 3: don't waste a bunch of time overthinking it. Just get rid of it and move on.

Step 3: Know when to stop. Don’t waste a bunch of time overthinking it. Just get rid of it and move on.

I chose the wrong reed and the warp (the vertical threads) just didn’t look right.

I didn’t think it through, and started weaving – hoping it would sort itself out.

I cut off the weft I’d woven in, twice. I tried different colors, different textures. Nothing looked right, somehow.

So, a third time I unwove (is that a word?), and with very little grace or hope of success I grabbed a giant ball of acrylic (ptui!) that I’d bought at a big box store a while ago. I don’t even know why I bought it – I don’t usually work with acrylic because I am a bit fibre snob and like to use natural fibers. I make a point of looking for locally sourced fibres and get a lot of pleasure out of them. I tend to sneer a bit at acrylic.

But who can resist a sale, right? (see Steps 1 & 2)

I wound some of the acrylic, and wove some in.

Step 4: Try something different once in a while

Step 4: Try something different once in a while

And it worked! It is lightweight drapes beautifully. I made it very wide and so one needs to make sure it will fold and drape without feeling too  inhibiting. it’s warm and drapey and I love this scarf. You will love this scarf. 12″ wide x 5.75 feet long.

Turns out that acrylic ain’t all that bad, especially when you mix it with other nice things and it’s the right weight/scale/texture for the piece. It will also keep the price of the scarf at a rational level.

Huh.

Step 5: finish it, and see what you've got.

Step 5: finish it, and see what you’ve got.

Warm, but lightweight. Drapey, iconic, and attractive

Warm, but lightweight. Drapey, iconic, and attractive

Because I was suffering from a Belize-related lack of focus, this particular scarf is only good for my neck. There are irregularities in the weave, and I had to repair some bits and while I cannot deny that it looks great, you kind of have to… squint, just a little in order to make it so.

However, now I have the code cracked. I love this scarf. If you want one, you can order it here or here 🙂