Burundi Looping, Learning And Laughter

There's a special kind of magic that happens when guild members get together to learn something new. An alchemist might be able to produce a similar effect (like turning lead into gold) from a recipe that combines lovely people, love of learning, and intention to make time for guild activities. When you factor in laughter, show and tell, yummy treats, and good lighting, the result is definitely magical.

The Flambeau Area Fiber Artists invited me to Ladysmith, Wisconsin, to teach Burundi looping last weekend. Eight people signed up for the class, which is a considerable leap of faith for a guild whose members are so geographically dispersed -- especially considering nobody really knew what Burundi looping was!

So here's the short version: "Burundi looping" is the name I use to identify a particular complex looping variation in which each stitch intersects with multiple previous rows. I learned it from Peter Collingwood's book, The Maker's Hand. Peter's example was a bag he collected in the African nation of Burundi. In looping, there's a strong tradition of identifying stitch variations with the places where they're used (or found). So for years, I've called this variation Burundi looping.

This structure is much less elastic than simple looping. And at a glance, it would be tough to identify it as single-element construction, let alone as first cousin to the most basic form of knotless netting. It looks more like a woven twill.

This is a workshop I love to teach. It includes a lot of technique, but the progression makes perfect sense and the combination of skills can be applied a lot of different ways, once you know them, and with many different materials.

The most disappointing thing about the workshop was that, once again, I didn't think to take more pictures. Right now, I'm really wishing I could show you a photo of Nancy and the double-weave pick-up coaster fabric she brought for show and tell. She wove as an "in between" project, for Pete's sake!

That's the kind of passion I see all the time in guild members. That's the kind of passion that inspires me.

Steal This Idea

When people are seen leaving my studio toting old pillowcases stuffed with who-knows-what, I have to wonder: Do the neighbors think we're being robbed.

This dangerous-looking crew, cleverly disguised as schoolteachers, recently came for a studio workshop on Constructed Vessels. Because students produce so many models (plus two or three vessels) in this one-day class, I give them each an old pillowcase for stashing stuff. It helps keep the work space clear-ish.

Having teachers as students is always a special treat for me. This group stayed on task, but when the task left room for conversation the topics were fascinating. I'm mulling many ideas they inspired, but there's one I want to share with you.

One of that group is an elementary art teacher. She told me she read about Artsonia in a blog post I wrote last year, and fell in love with their concept. A surprising number of her students say their parents don't display or save their children's artwork. An online gallery like Artsonia gives other family members a chance to see and admire the kids' work, and even to order products printed with it.

But how to find the time to photograph and upload all that artwork? She said she called Artsonia and asked them. One of their suggestions: Ask for a parent volunteer to come in once a week to take digital pictures. I'm assuming a grandparent volunteer would work as well.

So here's the idea I suggest we all steal: Ask for help. Yes, it's sometimes harder than just doing the job yourself. And the job may not get done exactly the way you would have done it. But how important is that if the job gets done?

When we reach out to help someone else, we get so much in return. When help is asked for, that's a gift, as well, because it opens the door and invites someone else to have the satisfaction or learning experience that comes with helping.

The pep talk I give myself when I balk at asking for help goes like this: "You've done much harder things in your life. Just ask."

Now I'm asking you: What's your experience with asking for help?

Artists' Date

In lieu of being on vacation this week (stuff happens), Bill and I took Tuesday off to go to Green Bay for an artists' date (and to buy two gallons of wood glue).

The Neville Public Museum is showing Through the Needle's Eye, the 19th national juried competition and exhibit from the Embroiderers' Guild of America. As much as I enjoy my fibery friends, there's still no one I'd rather see an exhibition with than Bill. It always surprises and delights me to hear his impressions of a show and the pieces in it.

He, of course, loved the 5-panel America The Beautiful tapestry. His other favorites were and The Last Fall by Carol Lynn Stratton and Out of the Flames by Kay F. Haley.

Out Of The Flames by Kay F. Haley

The show presented the gamut of embroidery technique -- skills I greatly admire and do not possess. But what inspired me most were pieces worked predominantly in simple running stitches.

Deanna Funk of Springfield, Illinois used running stitch on stitched-resist shibori dyed background fabrics to create Paths and Circles and Rocks and Rills.

Karen Schueler of Newark, Deleware had two pieces in this traveling show -- Park By The Arroyo and Neighborhood.

Neighborhood by Karen Schueler

Her description of  Neighborhood focuses on the technique:

I ‘paint’ scenes of my neighborhood by stitching scraps of dyed fabric onto painted linen in the tradition of ‘rag pictures’. This is user friendly stitching. Need a color change – stitch another color over the top. Don’t like what you’ve done – snip it out. Need some definition of the shape – change your stitch direction. What were separate bits of fabric gradually meld together, stitch by stitch.

And while I admire the technique, what I loved about the piece was the emotion it evoked. Nothing is quite as straightforward in any neighborhood as it might seem when viewed through rose-tinted glasses (what is hidden by that tall fence?). And yet we love what we love, including the flaws.

Plan A for the week didn't work out. We snipped something out, changed direction, and stitched together a Plan B that worked. And we're good on wood glue for a while now.