Spiritual Wool-gathering Part II

I was told white, mostly white.  I showed a sketch to my sister-in-law and she approved the simple floral design on the white background.   I laid the wool very thinly, entirely covering the white silk chiffon so it would shrink but remain fairly flat.  And it looked beautiful.

 

I felted it. It was still beautiful, but my 90" piece was now 53" long. Too short for a clergy stole.

So I'm trying again.  Instead of one long piece, it is two pieces side by side with additional chiffon cut into a curved neckline.  Same design.   Much more white.   I'll felt it tomorrow.

Spiritual wool-gathering

Art and religion.  A longstanding combination.  I've been asked to venture into felting prayer shawls by my rabbi.  The idea appeals.  I did some homework and learned that there is a prayer to be said and detailed instructions for tying off knots in the four corners.  I have a few designs in my sketchbook.  But the first actual commission to come my way that mixes religion and art is for a minister's stole.  A friend of my sister-in-law is about to become a pastor.  Different homework teaches me different measurements, no prescribed prayer or blessing.  We have settled on a design.  My requirement for myself is that I do not create without having the right mindset. This piece will be for sacred work.  It doesn't matter that it is not my religion.  Sacred, spiritual, blessed.  Find that space in my heart and in my soul.
Meditate.
Pray.
Felt.

Crazy

Back in Michigan, accessory stores would ask to sell my scarves, but not much ever sold when I tried to do that.  MaryLiz, the owner of Leon & Lulu's,  which is about the coolest store in the world, would hold artists' markets four times a year. I did several and always sold a lot of stuff.  I asked her whether she would ever consider carrying Woolynns and she very honestly said no. She said part of why my things sell is I am there with them.  I explain the nuno felting process (thus the prices) to people.  I encourage them to buy the right piece for them, not the most expensive.  MaryLiz explained, rightly, that without that added attention, most people would look at the tag and walk away.  In her giant store, that is likely what would have happened.

I thought about her words often.  It may have been the best business advice I could have received.  So when looking for places in the Twin Cities, I have been looking first for stores selling locally designed clothing.  Then I need to meet the owners and see if they really sell the pieces or just work the cash register.  I need to see how large the space is.  I have been doing my homework and I am pleased to introduce the first shop carrying Woolynns here in MN.

C'est Fou is in one of several renovated houses on Grand Ave in St. Paul.  It is part of a wonderful shopping district with independent businesses, restaurants, bakeries, etc.  The owner of C'est Fou is Susan Metzger.  She designs all the clothing and includes alterations in her prices.  You will not leave her shop in something that doesn't fit you perfectly.  All the accessories are by Minnesota artisans.  The day I brought some pieces over for her to check out, she found herself unexpectedly busy with two women who were going to Scotland this summer and wanted a few new outfits, clothes that would travel well and weren't from a department store.  A little something special, in other words.  Susan allowed them time to browse, but once they began trying things on, she showed each one how a little tuck here or there could change the entire drape. She pulled sandals out from her shoe store so the women could envision summer (never mind that it was 30 degrees out for a high that cold April day).  She added belts, necklaces, offered to change a sleeve. In short, she was clearly there to make these women look good, not to make a big sale.  Exactly what MaryLiz was telling me I did for Woolynns.

I left seven scarves and three bags at C'est Fou last week.  Susan says that they already get much attention from customers.  The shop certainly shows them off well, and they are definitely being seen by a new market.  It is all I could ask for so soon after landing here in the Twin Cities.

All in a couple days' work

 

I used to keep my sketches and inspirations in a drawer.  That will no longer do.  A trip to IKEA, a power drill and some anchors (and some culling of scraps that I no longer remember why I kept), and now I have an idea board on the wall my work table faces.

Plastic floor covering from Lowe's and some indoor/outdoor duct tape and the carpeting is now protected from water. Finally, I set out some materials and start back to work.

The skinny forest is not an original idea.  Sometimes, to move into a new skill (felt painting here), I take someone else's design and see if I can make it in wool.  This was from a photo of a mass-produced painting for sale in a catalog.  Don't worry.  I won't sell it.

Drip dry after felting.  It is a good thing I know by now not to judge them when still wet.  They are never as nice when you first hang them up to dry.

A crinkle scarf trying to push its way toward a muted Spring.

Yarn and wool become a scarf, a necklace, a belt.  Your call.

A Skinny Forest felt painting for my studio.

It feels really good to be back at something like normal.

Social Being

I am waiting for inertia, like Elvis, to leave the building.   Previous moves always included a failsafe way to find a daily community.  College, work, mothering-related groups, children's schools.  This one is harder.  I don't know my children's schoolmates parents since we are no longer at a small private school.  I am having a slow time finding work teaching yoga.  I don't have any work other than the self-directed kind: unpack, rearrange, help children settle in, locate the necessities of living in a new place (schools, library, grocery stores, medical providers, etc.).  Oh, and felting, which is also solitary and self-directed.  It isn't as though I didn't know this was coming, but living in reality is a bit more challenging than preparing for that reality.  


In the meantime, I found the Textile Center in St. Paul, getting lost more than once on the way. (Not knowing how to get places is my least favorite part of moving.)  A beautiful space housing many classrooms for weaving, dyeing, sewing; a small studio currently housing an exhibit of art dolls (that were extraordinary); a library that was closed; offices; and a small shop.  I browsed, picked up brochures for summer camps for my girl, and purchased something to dispel the inertia: a book called 1000 Artisan Textiles (Quarry Press).  From clothing to accessories to household goods to wall hangings to 3-dimensional art, it is a feast for the weary textile artist.  Something to inspire and challenge.  It has me ready to pull out the sewing machine and learn more about garment construction rather than continue plunging into seamless felted clothing without a basis for my attempts. It has me ready to try a felt painting.  It has me ready to make another hat, another purse, a pillow, a bowl.  In short, it is getting me interested in the days ahead.


Is it enough?  Of course not.  It isn't as though I am all alone.   A friend of a friend took me out for a wonderful evening at the theatre.  A couple of old friends (one from MI and one from high school) are also here, though I have yet to see them in person.  And we have family here, too.  But it is the daily community that I am wanting.  I'm someone who knows her bank tellers by name, who chats with the other parents at a small school, who commiserates with the grocery cashier.  I am a very social being.   But it seems wool and silk are about to become my new best friends.  


I am more excited at the prospect than I would have expected.  


Hello, fiber.

Getting it together

Here it is in all its not very classy glory.  (Mind you, I am posting these having just read a blog by Team EcoEtsy on Keeping It All Organized.  I am nowhere near that. Yet.)  My new Woolynns Studio has all the essentials so far.  Big table, solar wrap, boot tray, buckets, wool, silk, yarn, a variety of heads, and a fresh paint job.  All that is still missing is plastic under the table so I don't ruin the carpet.  Notice the big window.  I get to see outside while I work!

Heads on a ledge

Fiber, fiber, everywhere

The goddess of creativity and a laughing head to oversee my work

The heads are out.

Four mannequin heads and one neck and shoulders are unpacked.  Boxes surround me, but far fewer today than last week when we unloaded the moving truck.  After several years of creating in a cold basement with a halogen lamp brightening the concrete floor and walls and allowing me to see the actual colors of wool and silk, I now have a studio of my own.  During the moving truck delay, we managed to paint both upstairs and down. There are windows lighting up my felting space.  I have overhead lighting and I have heat.  I also have carpeting, so I am playing with ways to protect the floor as I do my felting thing.  If we weren't renting, I'd rip it out and put in cork flooring.  But no. Must not destroy carpet with soapy water.

We are still without internet. I sit at Starbucks, taking a break from unpacking, and use the connection here and sip a latte courtesy of one of several Starbucks gift cards we were given before we left Michigan.  I want to post photos of my felting studio in its stages of readiness; poop brown paint and wood paneling becomes sunny yellow walls; boxes to the ceiling turn into shelves of bins containing wool and yarn and silk; heads appear on a built-in ledge archly overlooking the chaos as it settles into stability.  Sadly my photos are on my desktop and I am blogging from a laptop.

I have missed the deadlines for summer art fairs.  Given the stress of this move, I'll have to accept that this is for the best.  I already have a commission once I get my life in some sort of order.  And I have so many sketches I want to bring to life.  I can see the possibility of creating.

Soon.