Weaving! Turning! Spinning!

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Herron: S/S 2013 is here!: The spring thaw has begun here in Maine and with only one week left until the official first day of the Spring season the transition f...

     I met a fellow blogger in early March!  Artist Dee Clements taught a weaving class at the Chicago Weaving School.  It was hard work- with all the yoga I practice, my back was so sore from just a few hours of weaving.  We began by spinning a bit of yarn, the yarn I spun is shown on the right side of the photo below:

A close-up of the cloth I made.

My view at the loom.

Dee and I, both wearing scarves we wove ourselves!

    The week after, I visited my Dad in Madison, Wisconsin. A few years ago I tried a little something on the lathe with him, but this was my first real attempt at making something to keep!  He is a very talented woodworker, and has made many things in his home.  I wanted a handmade bench, and feeling inspired from Dee's workshop, I wanted to spin my own yarn for the seat of the bench.    

Me, using the chisel to cut my spindle.

Not exactly, the same, but pretty close!  

While I was on the lathe, my dad made the frame for the bench.

My dad stained it for me, and it is ready to pick up in April- now I have to start spinning!!!

     I am still reading Proust too, I'm on volume 3.  This small phrase struck a cord- it is so nice to have the time to make art whenever I please.  To be able to travel, and visit friends and family when I want.  Perhaps one day compromising will be nice too, but for now: the delights of solitude are many.  I truly value, and appreciate the time that I have available to learn new art techniques, and to create.  Especially in the spring, with summer so closely approaching! 

"I asked myself whether marriage with Albertine would not spoil my life, as well by making me assume the burden, too heavy for my shoulders, of consecrating myself to another person, as by forcing me to live in absence from myself because of her continual presence and depriving me, forever, of the delights of solitude." (Proust, The Captive, Life with Albertine)