rain rain

5-05-09

While in the midst of recovering the studio for upcoming work and enjoying the recent grey skies above my head (six days of rain and counting), my thoughts are dwelling on old threads that should be revisited and new ones stretching out before me. You wouldn't know it from the scarce activity here, but I have been waking with the feeling of being crushed by my own potential to make; it is both exhilarating and debilitating. It is the precise feeling I have when walking into a library, the feeling of walking into infinity, so much to read and learn and do and only a finite amount of time to do it in. Each idea and potential item clamor for attention: my spinning wheel obtained in March waits patiently beside a generously gifted floor loom, spindle drawings vibrate invisibly on blank paper, tangles await capture and cataloging, thirty-two fleeces -that's right I said 32- sit dirty and potent with possibility. Each need careful development and dedicated time, and all the while a million other ideas of rain down: clothes and pillows and books and kites and furniture and gardens and shoes and dyeing and and and . . .
The choosing of what to hold fast, begin, or let go being the most pertinent questions.

Recently, Twitter and I engaged in an experiment of sorts over the last few weeks months. Sometimes creating satisfying blog posts take a bit too long, but I'd like a brief record of at least some of my studio doings. Could it be used as a studio log? Nearing a hundred tweets later and I think I like the song, if you'd like to follow along you can find me here.

Tomorrow Tangle returns home, a few alterations await her and then some local travel.