SistahCraft

Wish I Was Back Here.

 (Rockaway Beach, immortalized by the Kings of Punk, The Ramones.   Mr. K and I were here, the day the temperature hit 104º F / 40º C; all pics enlarge).

 

I won't embark on an explanation regarding my lassitude in posting; suffice to stay, I staggered around in the heat most of July, while preparing for a project that would take me from the urban postcard above––

To this:

(Thanks to the ancestors for Pandora, and Audible. I also want to thank my neighbor and friend, Valerie L., all the neighborhood dog owners, Rawal Ravail Restaurant, Pizza Express, No. 8 Chinese Restaurant,  Go Green Light Cuisine, the vendors of Arthur Avenue, in particular Cerrini Coffee, ––I'll see you tomorrow––who have been keeping me going).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  NO JOKE!

On the paper taped to the wall is the diagram of a very large stage, 9' x 12' (2.7m x 3.6m) defined by a hallucinogenic stripe layout.  I have to achieve this by machine knitting in the Intarsia or Tapestry method. If you don't understand the aformentioned link site, this is what came from my machine. I have to knit a damn lot of some huge sections! I don't want to tell you what the deadline is. Or how my yarn order got caught up in the Mercury retrograde, and arrived very late!

(Section 1)

The yarn is Brown Sheep Wool's Bulky. The mat is Wondermat!

Now, I have taken a long enough break. See you soon, and if you need to get in touch with me, you know where I am––for a while. Will post again shortly––for real!

Peace and Sheep Fleece,

Sahara

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now this, is blocking! Right Nicole?

 

 

 

Flower Power! The Blossom Of Fiber in Harlem

 (Fabulous fiberistas! From left to right: Fern Gillespie, Laura Gadson, Michelle Bishop*, Veronica Kerton-Johnson, Rosa Walker, Gail Edwards, Urmie D. Seenarine, Patricia Williams, Audrey Weaver, Edna Johnson, Anna Alvrez, Valerie Deas, Joann Boris-Salley, Ife Felix, Shimoda. Not shown: Me, Dindga McCannon, Jackquelyn Jones, Ketney Jean-Francois, Lisa Daehlin, Sherry Shine, Willena Nanton. Photo by Gerald Peart. All pics enlarge).

Until now, I disliked fake flowers as mockery––think cheesy silk blooms with a drop of clear acrylic on a petal to masquerade as water. Flowers rendered in needlework can look even worse; a parody, rendered with limited skill in a medium totally not suited to the plant or flower being reproduced (I fell victim to the latter last year. My attempt to crochet apple roses in a timely fashion, turned out so poor I dropped out of the show). But, what if such super-realist ambitions were abandoned? What would be the outcome of the desire to cultivate using mediums and techniques of intimate acquaintance, to create plants and flowers that spoke to feelings? Or were spiritual messengers? Or just plain happy and fun to look at? 

A Damn Cute, Bloomin' Show, That's What

This year's exhibition brought together 22 artists, producing flower and plant sculpture in a luscious bouquet of styles, spanning the spectrum of fiber art––just about every which way you could work your hands was worked.

(Flower as memorial; They Used To Hang Out Here, by Dindga McCannon. Machine and hand embroidery, machine applique and writing, hand printing, digital transfer). 

The restrictions by the NYC Parks Department that dictated the mode of display (art must be placed in pots, cannot touch anything, etc., etc.,), didn't tame our creativity; indeed it was the catalyst for an outpouring of work which turned even brighter when the sun blessed us, and ignited conversation among viewers and participants concerning the aesthetic value of "fake" flowers.

Art vs Affectation? The People Have Spoken

(These beautiful, well executed pansies are from Valerie Deas. Hand cut, quilted, machine and hand assembly).

 My photos don't do justice to the artwork. In fact, the feedback from the viewers I spoke with, have become a kind of benchmark for my own artistic exploration in dealing with nature's flora––they aren't meant to be copied.

"I don't want a reminder of what I can't grow; it should be just art."

"These look better than what I have in my garden and require less care, too."

"I hate silk flowers. These are more like art. I could have one in my living room."

"I love silk flowers, but these are different." 

Whether rendered, re-imagined or totally recherché, the comments by viewers on both sides of the grass was that hey, if it's done well enough to elicit recognition and an emotive reaction––other than the neutral pleasantness of silk mimics? It's winning.

Here are more examples:

(Ampelopsis Agripeta Amor "Veni, Vidi, Vici**"; Hand-spun wool vines incorporating hand cut, stamped and painted felt leaves, needlefelted berries, and florist wire; constructed trellis from found branches, cotton string. by Sahara Briscoe––me).

  (Future flora! This very popular crochet burst was created by Urmie D. Seenarine).

(The rendering of these knitted sunflowers, right down to the seed stitch dirt was genius! Touch of Gold, by Rosa Walker, adapted from 100 Flowers To Knit & Crochet, by Leslye Stanfield. Veined leaf pattern by C.Comb).

(Little Green Me; machine pieced, multi-media formed face. Laura Gadson).

What Are Those Numbers?

The numbers aided the judges in their selection of flora to be shown at the inauguration of the community gallery at the City College of New York in the fall. Here's a big shout out to the judges!

(Excluding Michelle, from left: Tara Powell, of Barbara's Flowers, Jerry Grant, Artist, Isisara Bey, V.P. of Count Me In, Katrina Parris of Katrina Parris Flowers).

  

 And a huge thanks and shout out to my sisters Michelle Bishop and Laura Gadson for making it happen and giving me the opportunity to plant the seeds of my own artistic growth!

*Michelle Bishop, Producer

**The latin identifier is made up.

Hitched To A Legacy of Dreams: Uppity Women!

( A handbill from the Nicodemus Town Comany; all pics enlarge)

Last Thursday night's opening performance of Lorna Littleway's adaptation of scenes from Pearl Cleage's Flyin' West, the first of two poignant, power-punching plays opened  my memory book. In another life, my fellow hustler-in-craft, Ajouba gifted me her T shirt, printed with the bold-faced proclamation above.  I am now forever grateful to her for unwittingly hitching me to one of the more important pieces  in the historical  patchwork of American life.

1898––We Shall Not Be Moved

   (Yes, you will. Bryan Webster as Frank Charles; Joresa Blount as Minnie.  Scene photo credits: Images by Tanja.)

In this both humorous and caustic drama, Sophie, Fannie, and Minnie are frontier women and established exodusters in Nicodemus, Kansas, a growing blacktopia in the face of the Jim Crow era.  To disrupt  their  peace enters Frank Charles, an arrogant poet, who's passing ("I let people draw their own conclusions") for white. Newly married to the naïve Minne, a dis in his inheritance coincides with a property gift to his wife, inducing him to coerce her to sell out and move  to with him to London. When Sophie surprises Frank in an act of violence, she calls upon her sisters to liberate their youngest sister from domestic slavery.

 1930––Hitchin' My Wagon To A Star

(Brutally betrayed. From Left; Michael Jones as Leland, Patricia R. Floyd as Delia, Bryan Webster as Guy, T. Reneé Mathis as Angel.)

Blues for An Alabama Sky is an intarsia of dreams. However, economics, racism, sexism and homophobia is shredding the fabric. What's the escape route? For Guy, a homosexual costume designer, it's Paris, via Josephine Baker. Angel, a nightclub singer, wants a headline and Delia, a Planned Parenthood advocate, Harlem's first birth control clinic.  But the introduction of Leland "Alabama" Cunningham into Angel's life will appliqué a layer of confusion over everyone, his gentle manner veiling a rigid personality unable to cope with the expansive identities emboldened by the renaissance of Harlem's artistic and intellectual movements.

 Spreading The Love

(Pat relaxing after a sterling performance.)

Ancestors! This was some of the best work I've seen in a long time. The copiously talented cast under the direction of Rome Neal (Artistic Theater Director, Chairman of the Board of NPC theater program), turned it out! I implore you to get to the Nuyorican Poets Café to buy online tickes for these veritable works of the African-American experience. It's up until April 16th!

A big shout out to my friends––Pat Floyd, (Law & Order, three time winner of the  Golden Earphone awards), Bryan Webster, Co-Producer and Artisitic Director of Sugar Valley Theatricals), The Juneteenth Legacy Theater* and the most fabulous Tom Martin (All My Children, TWAS) who hitched me to the legacy path.

*Take a look at a scene from Blues.

Melting Mental Blocks

(Bronx Park "Creek" after the final frost; all pics enlarge)

"From January to April, I don't expect much from myself."

This testament became my emotional blankie, spoken by a wise sister at the Spin City Meetup, a hand-spinning group I belong to.  And as if her words needed reinforcement, the NY Times published an expedient article on self-compassion –– a virtue undervalued in pop society's obsession with criticism. 

OK, what's the connection to this post? Well baby! At times a series of events can have you criticizing your existence.

I had a heck of a fall with 2 more knitted rug commissions, the last one 19' long.  Just in time too, because my knitting machine broke 2 weeks later around Thanksgiving. Stressed but undaunted, I managed to produce my knitted accessories for a holiday trunk show –– the store closed 3 days later.  More bad news I won't list here, then nature took a major dump of snow, snow and snow.  Frozen with perdition, my brain felt enervated. What new year? It looks the same outside! Now I gotta' seek work, figure out what to do, I need, I want, the house, my studio, Mr. K, my machine, parts, money, clients, the future…ARRGH!

Put A Filter On It!

The Wise One's remark revealed I was spinning on the expectation/self-critic whorl. Why?  It's not about me; we're all dealing with nonsense. Hey, the moment you awake back on earth? You're engaged. My sanity at stake, I decided the only thing to do during this period is heal, with verbs that start with the prefix re: replenish, recharge, revive, etc.––you get the picture.

So now that we've caught up, let's catch on.

 Knitting And Spinning Solace

(Mr. K tug-of-warring with our foster dog, Nádine. His hand-spun, hand-knit gloves kept a grip. He won. Boiled wool coat, John Bartlett).

The internalization of a new skill always gives me a boost of self-esteem; currently, it's knitting gloves.

Given the reality that spinning yarn from fiber is yet another craft I've chosen that demands a huge expectation of oneself in regards to time, I concluded the working of a small item could show off my yarn for a quick bit of gratification. It worked! The fiber is Colonial Blue merino from Ashland Bay Fibers, candy caned in the singles with Aqua, then plied*. For glove instructions I turned to Mary Thomas; her book is a good entrance. Upon mastering the basic pattern, Nanette Blanchard's book Glove Knitting, helped me fine tune them for fit. You know, gloves aren't difficult to make and unike socks, won't wear out as fast. And no one bothers you knitting them in public because using double-pointed size 1 needles, you look like either an expert or a crackpot; so go for it––it's gonna become the next big thing. 

Some Quick Blog Notes

(Mr. K and the ladies Nádine and Della, the "it" bull).

Whooooeeee! There's a lot going on, people. With the shards of ice left from winter's grip just about melted and our brains  beginning to bud and sprout, look in the right sidebar for current listings of mental fertilizer. And I've added a Spinner-A-Large column, sharing my explorations in yarn formation for fashion.

My mental blocks are seeping into the ground. I feel good now. As we head toward the real New Year, you can actually observe the inauguration of newness around you. Spring is the compassion the Divine has blessed us with––the chance to be re-born!

Spinner-At-Large: In The Lap Of Luxury

 

 

(Where it all begins. Suzie Pro spinning wheel, Majacraft; in lap: Bombyx silk top in Geisha, from Outback Fibers. All pics enlarge)

It's like working with molten metal.

I've become a bit of a silk junkie. It some practice to learn to spin––similar to learning the physical nuances of a lover. But once my fingers understood the the amount of sensitivity needed to exert the proper grasp? I was undone. I cannot get enough of the feel of this fiber sliding between my fingers in the drafting zone, then again as I twist and slick them down onto the bobbin you see; the transformation of a mass as light as air into a strong, metallicsized, lustrous length of love.

The fiber had a few slightly matted spots, calling for pre-drafting, but all in all it's been a smooth ride. The yarn––28 w.pi.––will be machine knitted into a lace top, as soon as the current commission for a 19' knitted rug is finished (don't ask yet).

All in all summer's been fun, and fall? Well, my days on the bench are winding down, but the textile season is on the upswing. I'll holla' back soon, and in the meantime remember this chinese proverb.

"With time and patience, a mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown".  

Thanks Jennifer, for the beautiful necklace; this was the motivation.