The Zen of Knitting

May 18 2014

Winter in the Maritimes can be dreary and wearying. A long vinyasa of boots, heavy coats, gloves, woolly hats and scarves. This past winter was definitely one of the worst; it seemed never-ending. No sooner had one storm blown out when the next piled more snow on top of what hadn’t even been removed.

To warm up our winter at Blue Lotus Yoga Space we invited students to “cast on with us and cast off stress.”  Our ‘Zen of Knitting’ workshop offered an opportunity to let go of tension - so important in knitting - to share the experience, and laughter, to create a new item for our winter wardrobes and in my case to re-discover a long lost skill. All aspects of a yoga practice too.

It’s acknowledged that knitting is therapeutic and meditative. With its soothing, relaxing rhythm, focus on the moment, on the joy of the process rather than the result, on observing, being willing to start again, it has much in common with how we work in yoga.

One of our yogis, Christiann, who describes herself as “an obsessive knitter”, and enters world-wide knitting events, lead us through the fundamentals of casting on, often a big puzzle.  With two students who knit ‘European’ style this was not just fun, it reflected something else we share in yoga, different routes to the same discovery.

For me, who hadn’t knitted since I was about 16, it was amazing to find how quickly my fingers, and body, remembered, how the flow was still there, just dormant. Another yoga parallel

Posture, or pattern, for the workshop was a simple infinity cowl or scarf, in easy stockinette stitch. The ends could be sewn together to form a circle or knitted as long as wished for a neck-wrapping scarf. Like yoga, adapting, modifying to suit each student.

We practiced some gentle chair yoga, sitting stretches and twists to keep our knitting bodies from getting tangled and knotted, shared herbal teas and snacks and later in the session had a show and tell of our work.

Books and a Bowl of Soup

Wednesday, March 19

I believe. In playing to learn. In playing to be creative.

That’s just what I did last weekend.

Also I believe there is no one ’right’ way to do most things.

At this time of  year particularly I find myself needing a fresh experience to relieve winter doldrums,  to create something different from my usual focus on textiles and fibres but remaining related and with possible application for my work.

Intrigued by a ‘Build a Book’ workshop offered last Sunday by members of Underbridge Press, a student-run publishers at Mount Allison University, I spent an expanding afternoon at the Owens Art Gallery in Sackville.

The play was to learn Coptic book binding, or Coptic sewing, a centuries-old method of binding papers, used by the Copts, early Christians in Egypt, and still used today, mainly by artisans and art book lovers.

What fascinated me most was the word ‘sewing’ as I spend a lot of time with a needle in my hand. There are many elaborate and beautiful variations on the basic Coptic stitch, which was the one we were shown. Dr.  Wilson, a Theology professor demonstrated each step, encouraging us to try it out before starting on our own book. Elijah Teitelbaum, president of Underbridge, and several students gave us continual help, sending us home with supplies to keep us stitching away.

It was intriguing and mind-opening to know these students had learned the technique in theology classes, in mediaeval history, in art studies. My history and art history lectures were immensely interesting, but not nearly as broad-based and enterprising as they evidently are at Mount Allison.

Coptic binding involves covering the outside book covers, carefully measuring and folding the inside pages, referred to as quires, making holes on the cover and along the folded spines, then – using a curved needle, stitching them together, one quire at a time.

Because no adhesive is used this method allows the book to open completely flat.  Ideal for use as a sketch book, a journal, for recipes; so many uses.

Coptic bound books can be made and given as gifts; the outer covers decorated with motifs to suit births, birthdays, weddings, to commemorate special occasions.

Many websites show an amazing variety of beautiful examples. Some are small enough to hold in your palm. There are elaborate and imaginative variations on the basic stitch; bands resembling weaving across the spine, threads flowing across the covers, others are decorated with beads or found objects.  No bounds to imagination. None required.

On the way home my companion and I enjoyed, as always, a bowl of soup, cauliflower and fennel, at another favourite place, Calactus Restaurant. Perfect ending.

Now I’m completing one of my books, envisaging how it will be decorated with fibres, how this will fit into my textile work.

A Dozen Doves for Valentines

Saturday, February 15

 

 

Woke up yesterday to the heart-thrilling sight of a dozen mourning doves perched in our apple blossom tree.

 No photo though to capture the enchantment. I hesitated to open the curtains wider in case I startled them and my camera’s flash produced only a blur.

But the pale peach breasts, the soft blue under their wings and a sharp flash of black and white tail feathers as they groomed, so welcome in this harsh winter, are clearly etched on my mind’s canvas.  They fluttered and preened; some moved from one branch to another, others sat in still, silent meditation as early sun warmed them.

 

All winter I have been watching, and putting out seeds, worrying at seeing only a couple at our bird table, so it was so re-assuring to know they are still here and trust us to feed them. And to know that, before too long, nature will remind us of her ability to restore and renew and the doves will flock back.

Unfortunately they’d eaten all the previous day’s seeds and going out with more caused a flowing stream to fly to the taller evergreens. By mid-afternoon all those seeds had disappeared. This morning, ahead of another wintery blast, we’ve sprinkled more for them to enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

Threads of memories and intentions

Sunday, January 12 2014

A year ago today I stepped off a plane into the coconut tree landscape and smoky, spice-laden air of Kerala, South India. Was it really that long ago?

Another stay in a country that intrigues me; this time for three months to study and create textiles – another of my joys.

 I returned to Tasara – translation ‘the weaver’s shuttle’- a weaving centre in the small village of North Beypore, about half an hour’s rickshaw drive from Calicut.  Previously I stayed with the family when a group of us were in India for yoga and Ayurveda studies. I knew I would return.

 

This time it was complete immersion in Indian life. With other textilers from Sweden,  Australia, Greece, England and India I ate with the family, learned Indian cooking, shopped in the village shops, showered and washed clothes in cold water, lived with spiders and other assorted creatures  and worked.

 

 

I arrived early and my first weekend included an invitation to a temple wedding. About a thousand guests and the finery of the women’s’ saris was a feast for my fibre artist’s eyes. During our stay the group was lucky to attend another wedding, this time a simpler affair, but still gorgeous clothes, at a neighbouring house.

 

 

Weaving is no longer a paramount business at Tasara. But I could never afford a full-size loom anyway, nor do we have room for one. The techniques we learned are mostly ones I can do at home – some only in warm weather. Almost seven days a week we did hot wax batiking,  fabric painting and dyeing, block printing, screen printing, shibori and wet felting. The two latter my absolute favourite processes.

Arashi is a form of shibori; quite simple really. Tightly wrapping a wet cloth around a rod or tree branch (several of my best pieces were done this way), you then dye it, rinse, undo the string and voila. The excitement is the unknown pattern that results, then what you do with it. I added sequin ‘bubbles’ to my fish cloth which now hangs in our bathroom window.

 

Making felt from scratch with bubble wrap, soapy water and rovings was a great joy f0r me. It’s quite hard work but seeing a lovely piece of soft fabric emerge and then knowing I will embroider and embellish it is incredibly satisfying.

 

Not every day was textile day. I spent two weeks at a peaceful tea garden estate in the Western Ghats, had a full Ayurvedic massage, taught yoga to family members and others in the group. I was fortunate to attend a concert of classical South Indian vocal and tabla music,  find a dancing Shiva for my yoga studio and, one of my greatest joys, visited an elephant sanctuary.

 

All too soon it was goodbye to colour and warmth and a return to snow.

A spring session of yoga followed. During the summer, wanting to downsize, we put our house on the market – no surprise, no sale!  In the same spirit of de-cluttering I spent several months at a local Sunday flea market. Also created some mixed media works and attended a three-day movement workshop. The year ended with another yoga session to teach.

 

Now our winter session is underway and I’m looking ahead.

My plan is to spend as much time as possible when not teaching to work on the large bundle of textiles I brought back with me. I need to do this for myself,  for my creative spirit and fulfilment. Next year I hope to return to India to continue this thread.