Lily King, kitchen moves and dyers to the world

I just finished Writers and Lovers, the Lily King novel, which blew me away. I can't believe a novel about writers, among other tragedies, could be this gripping.  I usually find writers writing about publishing so exciting, nearly as good as grating carrots. 

But she's no everyday writer. She's powerful and I really recommend you read this.  I'll look for more of her work. 

This came out a few years ago, and it looks as if she brings out a new novel every few years, so I'm hoping there's another soon. She crafts sentences that just come at you, and knock your breath out.

Gary was reclaiming his plants this morning, very happy about how they managed in his absence, especially the snake plant that finally got going.  And he pruned large sections of his butterfly bush, because that too had flourished to the point where he had to stoop to walk under it.

He's thrilled with my morning glories, and I'm hoping for seeds so he can start some too.  And now he's thinking about a hibiscus, after seeing mine. If he has room.

I've started moving things out of the kitchen bit by bit before the repair work gets started. I don't have a date on that yet, but better do it bit by bit, because it's heavy work. And I'd rather do it myself so I know where things are. I think we've experienced helpful people putting things away so you never find them again. 

Like Handsome Son clearing the table a while back. Took me three days to find the salt. He'd filed it alphabetically with spices, instead of on the salt and pepper turntable with half a dozen salt types. Logical thinking which baffled me. But he assumed I had one salt, and probably one pepper. 

I have a ride to tomorrow's knitting group, and I had to organize a project to take with me. I resurrected this 

Late July, I thought I'd be wearing this by now, but one thing and another.. 

There was a presentation a couple of days ago,  Master Dyers to the World,on great dyers in India and Pakistan in the eighteenth century and earlier, by George Washington University Textiles, given by Lee Talbot.

The subject was the Bible of dyeing of that period, 

As usual with museum and collection presentations, the interest was largely in the provenance and quality of finished items. So it's not a place to learn about process or sourcing, or the social position of the makers. However, they do label their slides fully enough to give us place, techniques and current location, to follow up on.

The large tent with dyed woven hangings was the kind of moveable palace used by rulers in the Mughal period in India, conspicuous consumption. Often this kind of display was meant to convey the power of the ruler.

As dyers from India -- this was long before Partition, so India meant the whole subcontinent, including present day Pakistan -- developed high-level skills in dyeing and block printing cotton textiles, they dominated the market. Then came the industrial revolution, and Britain passed protectionist laws to prevent Indian textiles from being imported, in favor of the British textile industry. 

You see how Indian design had centered European taste and clothing for their export market. There's a lot of design from the subcontinent designed for Western tastes. And they catered to the developing Japanese market, their uses of textiles for wrapping as well as clothing and wall hangings. Thailand also imported from India.

I have a great catalog raisonnee from the Met exhibit a while back, on the history of textiles, which points out that Indian cloth, dyed, stamped and resist treated, was a key barter commodity in the flourishing spice trade.

This presentation was a look at one part of the skills and connections of a worldwide trade.

Happy day, everyone, so much to do!

Ginnels, orchids and an irruption

I've been thinking about the word kanal, German for YouTube channel. It showed up in a recipe video, and made me think of related words. Canal, for one. 

And ginnel, hard g, the north Yorkshire word for a narrow passage between joined houses. I wonder if ginnel has Norse origins, as many northern words do. All I've found is French ancestors though. 

Sunday morning while I was stumbling about early on the deck, Gary appeared, home again. Good morning, you okay, I'm exhausted, need to sleep now that's a lovely orchid blossom, see you later. Gone.

Sunday was the sudden appearance of this lovely thing 

Later to be a model for an ink drawing, I seem to be on a roll because of flowers blooming 

Meanwhile I got in a walk, a bit shorter walk because of a tired left leg,  maybe from new stretches last night. Here's something I noticed 

Picking flowers for today's bouquet I did a sneaky Picasso reference 

And later, after shower and laundry, since I ran out of socks or walked out of them, I made  crisp tofu katsu sticks. The dipping sauce was the the usual ketchup, soy sauce and apple cider vinegar.  

I served myself with cilantro, an interesting dark flavor against the sweeter sauce. Tomorrow I'll make crisp shrimp with tofu katsu and sauce.  I've been baking the tofu in the toaster oven, so I'll try doing the shrimp the same way.

Today's the start of my fourth week without a car, and I can't say it's been hard, up to now. I have only needed one ride, and I get a lot of things like food and medicine delivered. It's been surprisingly okay, up to now. 

So, since there's a least one more week to go, we'll see. I can get to the knitting group, which includes library visits,  and doctor visits. And I Freecycle on my step, but can't pick up, though that's not altogether a bad thing if it keeps stuff away!  Anyway I'm considering driving or going carless and I'm undecided.

Happy day everyone. On foot or wheels of various kinds. 

Sez Ted and Big Ursy 

Morning glory advances and drawing, how long?

Friday's time on the deck was vintage. Perfect weather, low humidity, few biting insects. And I got my first clearwing hummingbird moth sighting of the year, working on the butterfly bush. Also a chickadee, a first this year. And a monarch butterfly. These are all less common than in earlier years, likewise fireflies, just the occasional one, but still welcome. 

Saturday's walk to the pond, cool and cloudy, great walking weather, is now no longer a stretch goal but routine. While I was there I pulled off a dead branch which was dragging a big bough down, and the bough sprang up gratefully, about fifteen feet up.

Already some leaves are falling, mostly wild cherry. You'll see beechnuts developing, and brambles growing in a planter, such temptation.  I expect birds and squirrels will see them off before they're ripe.

And back home I added in a couple of garden stakes to give the morning glories something to climb up. A couple of hours later, the tendrils are already establishing themselves. Warp speed.

I "pruned" the bird-planted butterfly bush by treating it rough. I'm not a careful snippity gardener, at least not with this guy. 

I just tore off lower branches full of dead foliage and tossed them into the trees on my walk.

When you consider the savage cutting and hacking and poisonous tools and materials used in suburban gardens, you wonder if many a murder has been averted by people rushing to take out their deadly aggression in the garden. All that slashing and dragging about. I do wonder.

Indoors the rescued orchid is getting near to flowering 

Anyway on to art.

Here's a little ink drawing from today 

And a bit tired, later I did a doodle while I listened to The Foundling, a favorite Georgette Heyer.

A couple of people have put a really good question about the drawings, not doodles,  I've been doing lately, viz., how long does it take. The answer is twofold, pour a cup of tea and sit a minute. 

One is that to an artist every piece of work, for better or worse, comes out of every mark they've ever made. That's because your eye sees based on all the years of practice it's had. Your drawing hand, too, has a lot of stored knowledge.  Your brain knows to permit the seeing without naming that's vital to drawing.  

Your experience tells you what tool or approach will work for this subject or idea -- you don't only draw stuff you can see, you may be drawing a concept, see Odilon Redon, early O'Keefe, and more. Here I drew my perception of what I was seeing, both object and idea.

The lightness and movement of the subject suggested fine-point ink, my pilot pen, the humbleness needed a small scale, here a page smaller than my hand. And the fineness of the line needed a bright white, slightly rough, paper for contrast.

So these little drawings took well over eighty years. And literally thousands of drawings and paintings and walking and looking and seeing and musing.

But what you probably really wanted to know was how long this particular one took as seen by an observer. In each case, a few minutes. 

The other thing that's not evident to an observer is that the focus needed is so total that, for me, one drawing is about it for the day. If I drew more, the focus would blur, the eye would flag, the drawing wouldn't be worth keeping, and certainly not worth showing you, and signing.

And I think you know I'm a true believer in drawing from life or memory, creating the composition there and then. I don't work from photos, even my own, where I created the composition. To me it feels dead on arrival.  The photo did it already.

I also work alla prima, meaning straight onto the blank page, no blocking or drafting or preliminary marks.  That takes place in the mind's eye. 

None of this is meant to pass judgment on different ways of drawing. It's just how I work.

More than you wanted to know, probably!  Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Happy day everyone, it's happy somewhere for someone, if not everywhere for everyone.

Blessedly cool, drawing and and plying

 Friday morning 

This was lovely, since I was up in the middle of the night trying to get cool and having an early breakfast while I was up.  It cooled off while I slept,  much later than usual, and wondered if I'd missed my walking window. Seemingly not.

So I walked to the pond and saw the first turtles gliding into the water as I got close. Frogs are all splash, scream, swim,  while turtles are slide, leisurely, under water and away. They're the sophisticates of the pond.

 

and home again to the plying process.

 I had made a two ply yarn from the singles you saw earlier, blending a green wool with the silvery sparkle yarn. 

More plying is planned because I have quite a few singles and I can make a warm two-ply from them, so I'll have a good supply for probably warm socks. So many ideas, so little time.

I needed to set up the plying better, because I was getting the yarns tangled. I can do this easily using yogurt containers.  It's better than my usual Ready!  Fire! Aim!  approach. Of course there are beautiful craftmade plying thingies, but sometimes cheapo diy does it.

So here's the set-up. Yogurt containers with a hole punched in the lid for the yarn. The tp holders of spun yarn fit inside, one per container. This way they can't tangle. Then the two threads are fed through the lid and attached to the spindle. Then they're  spun the opposite way from the original spinning. This is how you set up the ply. Then I made the plied yarn into balls ready to use. 

There's a sexist name for this plying setup when it's a fancy tool, so I'm replacing it. 

This is a brainy Kate. Just sayin.

Ply is an interesting word, from the Latin for fold. Seen in plying yarn, making plywood where the folding is lamination, and other meanings. Complicated is an offshoot, and you can see why, layers of meaning or activity.  It's an economical word, containing many meanings in one syllable.

And some drawing happened again. Cool enough to sit outside with a cup of tea and peacefully draw the hibiscus. Just as a point of interest, there are different meanings around drawing and sketching. 

In my usage, a sketch is a preliminary form of notetaking, not the final artwork. A drawing is the freestanding artwork, not a preparation for anything else. So I'm drawing here, not sketching. 

I do sketch ideas for things I'll make, because they're the preliminary ideas for something yet to happen.  None of this is a big deal, just a thought. 

A neighbor who's been away came to visit and make sure all's as well as it can be at this point. This is a nice neighborhood. I gave him a bunch of sage to take home.

Happy day everyone, enjoy what you can.