The Integration of the Books: The Make Version

Integrating the books of two people into one collection is an intimate activity.

"Do you think Milton will be OK beside Yeats?" I asked when combining our collections. Thus Bill Bryson is hanging out with John Ashbery, Jamie Oliver with Sophie Grigson. It's a very friendly, if somewhat self congratulatory, hall bookshelf.

Problems arose when moving over to the corner. There just wasn't enough room for all our things combined. His martial arts volumes take up considerable space as do my knitting magazines. Neither of us could, or should be expected to, put into storage such integral parts of ourselves.

Now, he is a buyer and I am a maker. A "make doer" is more accurate a term. My magazines had been living in milk crates. Though they fit perfectly into the available space, a more aesthetically pleasing solution was desperately needed. So, while he was scouring around for the perfect thing to buy, I picked up some inexpensive fabric that closely matched the existing Ikea shelves and wrapped it around the crates. 

I quite like the result. It's not fancy but it is tidy and does the job. It also gives my yarn bowl the prominent home it deserves.

One Step Ahead, Three Steps Back

Another way to stay inspired is to learn something new. "Learn, learn, learn," I always say. Your brain, like your body, needs to be exercised throughout your life or else it will turn to mush.
I had a last minute opportunity this weekend to sit in on a crochet class. Behold! My first ever granny square. I've always wanted to know how to make one of these. It's not perfect but I am delighted with the silly thing.

Unfortunately, my mushy brain took a costly vacation recently. I've been knitting away on Sock #2 in the Noro Natural colourway. As I approached what I thought was the end, the nagging suspicion that something was wrong kept niggling away. Then this morning I finally, and embarrassingly, figured it out. I had forgotten to turn the heel. I picked up directly after knitting the flap and have been chugging away at a confusingly odd-shaped foot ever since. Doh!! Just goes to show that even a so-called "experienced" knitter can make a bone headed mistake. Rip it. Rip it. Frog.

This is a picture I took this morning while waiting for a streetcar. I hope the coolness of the shot redeems me slightly.
Regardless, it's an interesting view of how new Condo-Toronto has blended, or tried to, with beautiful old historic Toronto.

Insomnia Art Project

Sometimes I wake in the middle of  the night and can't get back to sleep. As I age, this is happening more frequently. Rather than fight it, I've taken to using the time on random odd projects. Sometimes I knit or write a journal entry. Once I sorted my underwear drawer. Four-thirty AM a few weeks back found me sitting on my hall mat polishing all my shoes. 

Last night I made art.

I've been clipping and keeping images for years. When I'm feeling inspired, or more often, uninspired, I arrange them into a collage in my notebook. Late at night is the best time for this because that's when the inner critic is asleep. Usually I add little passages from whatever reading is my current obsession (in this case it's John Ashbery's Flow Chart, The Noonday Press 1991). Text as visual art; the link between words and pictures, is something that deeply intrigues me. Marcel Broodthaers is a favourite. There was a great show at The Power Plant on the subject a few years ago called Postscript, that I went to see twice. Did anyone else catch it?

Anyway, I like this one so am sharing it here. Usually my assemblages are dark and broody. This one feels light and hopeful to me. It reminds me of the approaching dawn.

Holiday Outfits

Thanks to Lily, Ruby, Leah and me, the girls are ready in time for their Christmas parties.

"Quilts and Art" or "Quilts Are Art"

So I visited The Textile Museum last week.  Currently, they have two amazing exhibits. 

 I spent most of my visit on the second floor with Fashionably Wrapped: The Influence of Kashmir Shawls.  One thing the Museum does exceptionally well is to put beautifully displayed collections into historical context that is clear and relevant.  The fabric becomes so much more than fashion when one learns that European demand for Kashmir shawls drove the Indian weavers to come up with faster and cheaper methods of creating them.  When these methods became easily copied in Europe, the original market collapsed and thousands of Kashmir weavers died of starvation, taking the secrets of their craft with them.  Knowing this and then looking closely at the interlocking twill of a huge shawl that took somebody eighteen months to create by hand, makes the viewing so much more personal.  One can almost see the hands of the weaver in the threads.

On the third floor is the Quilt Collection.  It is, as one would suspect, stunning.  Such colour and patterning.  I highly recommend a visit before this display closes in March.  It did get me thinking though.  All these quilts are from the private collection of one family. Many art and artifact exhibits in Toronto are thus - on loan from wealthy collectors and displayed with much credit given to the benefactors.  In this case, it works.  Textile Museum?  Quilts?  It works, right?  However, so many exhibits elsewhere these days seem to be of the "Joe Smith's Private Collection of Stuff He Really Likes and He Gave Us A Lot of Money, So Here It Is", variety.  With the lack of proper funding, museums seem to be more and more bound to this type of thing.  It just makes me a little sad.

Art

Art therapy? Then what the heck does this mean? Perhaps it's just that I like these colours. I know I like my plastic crayons.

Shall I Fill It With Yarn?

Here's the chest in it's new home. Dragging it up the stairs nearly herniated all my middle aged, herniable places but I did it!

Pleased I am.

How I Spent My Sunday

BEFORE

AFTER

I bought this 1970's record player stand yesterday at a second hand store. I'd been back to look at it several times. First it was eighty dollars. Then fifty. Then it was dragged out front with a big tag saying $40. Every time I thought I'd buy it but something about it just made me go...Eww.
Then I had a nice chat with the store owner, who incidentally, felt the same way, that the orange wood tone and fake French Provincial styling gives one horror flashbacks. She suggested that a nice cream colour would soften it up and make it more palatable. I'd never painted wood furniture before but what the heck?
I think she was right. Some sanding, priming, two coats of paint and voila! I like it!

The Paper Place, Me Want

The Paper Place is having an AMAZING contest! For details on how to win this paper dream tied up in a bow go Here. Thanks to Elisabetha and her wonderful blog for the tip off about the contest.

In order to gain five more entries, as per the contest rules, here is a picture of a craft The Daughter and I made using Chiyogami purchased at the store. (It's the skirt.)

Oooh...I hope, I hope I win!

Springy Crayon Inspiration

Saw some tulips today! Is spring here at last?

A Paper Diversion

Well, the knitting is all the same. The ugly socks are almost done and the purple tunic rollls along in stocking stitch.

In the meantime, I made this little dress from paper I bought in the gift shop at the Textile Museum. The crispness of the texture just screamed sharp pleats to me. I'm thinking Jackie O., mid-height pumps, supper party. Your skirt swings when you walk and the belt buckle glitters in the low light. You are efficient, yet sexy, and your legs look great. Get it?

Making these little outfits for paper dolls has been such a great source of play for me. As adults, we so often forget the joy of playing for its own sake. Also, since I can't sew, this is the closest I'll ever get to creating this kind of dress.

Speaking of the Textile Museum, if you've not yet seen the installation The Blues, get thee down there. It's quite remarkable in scope. The show closes April 6.

Thank You Sherrill

...for the beautiful card. You're so thoughtful and talented.

Drew A Festive Picture

Getting There

Well, it was a very sad and draining couple of days. Rivers of tears, miles of tissue and laughter too. When several hundred people put their differences aside to come together in grief and remembrance, it's a remarkable occasion. One beautiful person really can make such a difference in the world. Rest in peace Sandy.

Got my knit on last night with the Drunken Knitters. Laughing with these women is good for my soul. As Christmas gets closer, I like to take note of all the things in my life for which I'm grateful. Loud, yarny pub gatherings is definitely near the top of that list.

Do you like the festive scene created by The Daughter and myself? The gingerbread pieces are store bought. I worried that was cheating, but the lack of baking stress made the process so much more fun this year. I am concerned that this homestead is in grave danger from approaching giant Kitty. Look out!

Holiday Shopping Opportunity

I'm definitely checking this out. Would anybody else like to come along?

Baby It's Cold Outside

It's Not A Toy. It's A Creative Outlet!

Meet Bebe, one of the Fashion Angels.

I received the set of four dolls as a Christmas gift from The Husband and The Daughter. I admired the set in a toy store one afternoon and they actually went back another day to buy it for me. How cool is my family? They buy me toys for Christmas! This is more touching to me than any expensive jewellry, electronics or whatever, could ever be.

The kit comes with four good quality cardboard dolls (ethnically diverse, of course) and a slew of patterns and materials to make their outfits. What fun! I made this ensemble last Saturday after watching an episode of McMillan and Wife, in which Susan Saint James wears the cutest hat ever to a murder victim's funeral.

The Daughter is not allowed to play with the set without me. "Remember, it's Mommy's present," she was told.

Michelle says I'm weird but that it's a good thing. Hmmf!
I'm going to play with my dolls now.

Art Sunday

I made a pretty picture...

Rug Progress

Here it is so far. I must say, it's looking better than I expected. Needs to get at least twice as big, but I'm really moving at a good pace now that I have the hang of it. I'll also need to pick up some sort of rug backing.

The rug-to-be is photographed with my Kikki which I love. I only have 4 skeins - about 350 yards. I've been holding on to this yarn for months, terrified of wrecking it. But it's time to plunge in! My knitting needles are unpacked from the move and I can't wait to start something new. Perhaps a light shawl or capelet wouldn't require too much yarn? Suggestions anyone?

Corking Around

The snakes are going well (no current knitting projects due to having just moved). Some musings on fibre arts...
As I work on my mat, I remember corking with all my friends at recess during grade school. This was the early seventies. This memory always makes me think of the scene in Margaret Atwood's Cat's Eye, describing a similar reflection - it is called spool knitting in the book and Cordelia is pathetic at it. Has anybody else read this? This part of the story takes place, I believe, in the late forties, early fifties?
Now the daughter is helping with my mat. I bought her a great wooden corker - Canadian made, yay! - to replace the crappy plastic one that came with her craft book. She is becoming quite fast.
Anyway, she took her corker to school the other day and...you guessed it. "What's that?" "Show me how." "Can I have a turn?" Of course, this translates into "Mommy, can you pleease buy a corker for M? She really likes it and wants to make a hairband."
So, I bought two more. A spare won't hurt. I have visions of a circle of children, maybe even some boys in this scene, sitting in a circle on the grass...a knitting idyll. I love the continuity of craft, the tradition. Now I have a tear in my eye and simply can't go on.