Mark as Incomplete (or) Gathering Moss

Textiles projects in process

Nov 07, 2023

1. Mark as Incomplete (or) Gathering Moss
2. Studio Sale?

1.

I love the way a line (yarn, in this case), can be knotted, looped, or passed to and fro until it becomes a form (a hat).

Perhaps like this:

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Several lines together (scraps from old hole-y t-shirts) can be sewn together to make a flat plane, which might again be sewn together to someday make a form (a new shirt).

Perhaps like this:

What glorious transformation!

Somewhat recently, we bought a copy of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Gathering Moss. I haven’t read a single bit of it yet, but someone else in my house has, and I’ve found the book itself gathering moss on the coffee table, on the bathroom floor, under the bed. Those words speak to me of warmth and welcome, but especially of slow, long-time aliveness.

Mending, like the growth of moss, seems to me a practice of engaging with that slow, long-time aliveness. I believe when you mend a garment, or fix an object—past the pragmatics of extending the useful life of something—you’re adding energy and resonance to that thing. Just look at the mending work of the brilliant Celia Pym. Hers are garments absolutely steeped in aliveness. Or the wisdom of Maria Cline.

And mending takes time! It certainly takes more time than ordering a replacement sweater for the one that got eaten by moth larvae. Especially if you have a habit of stuffing said sweater away in darkness to be eaten again… and again. In this, mending feels like both a necessity and a luxury — something we must do to take care of the things we have and divest from the truly harmful labor practices of fast fashion, but it’s also something many people may not have the luxury of time for.

I try to find time here and there to tend to the beloved things I have, and to make new things too. Most of the projects I share below are being mended or made in slow-time (ha, ha). Don’t mistake me for the magical type of person who can knit a whole sweater over the weekend. I realized quickly that mending is never ‘complete’ — as in, finished.

The last vestiges of my post-college job hawking easy jeans at American Apparel, this cotton sweater I love so much. Mending holes with darning, and threadbare areas with duplicate stitch.

I saved up for this gorgeous TOAST sweater, then the moths got it, and now it has spots and apparently lots of lint. Mended by needle felting wool roving in the hole-y areas.

A beautiful wool sweater I picked up at a vintage store last week. The seller advertised it as being ‘distressed’… but I’m envisioning lime green mends!

Estate sale bells with the greatest sound. My archival-minded sister says I need to clean them to stop them from actively corroding (another form of slow-time growth). I’ll be bringing them up to the yurt eventually :-)

NOT MENDING BUT MAKING:

This is a wool rug that I wove on my 4-harness floor loom. I’ve been sloooooowly finishing the warp ends by braiding them, then feeding them back into the weaving to hold and conceal them. Left to right along the top edge of the rug above, you can see warp ends pre-weaving, post-weaving, and finally trimmed (and complete). Plenty more to go!

A rare new-yarn treat in support of the great shop that opened up in our neighborhood this fall. Knitting a Petite Knit Stockholm Hat with merino and mohair… ooh la la!

2.

I was digging in my flat files the other day and realized that there’s a LOT of work in there just lurking about in the dark! So, I’m thinking of having a studio sale… do people still buy art? Holler if you think YES, HAVE A STUDIO SALE. I need your votes of confidence…