A couple of fabric collages I made. (Photos are a little blurry – I think my ancient camera is starting to fail me.) I’m not sure if that is the right term – I’ve seen similar things called ‘mini-quilts’ but that seems a little absurd to me…unless they are quilts for dolls or mice.
First some writing news – Fourth Floor Literary Journal is up and I have two poems in it! Yay! You can read them HERE.
Back HERE I mentioned my friend Helen wrote an essay about ‘Taking Care’ (killing) ‘Of Animals’. It’s also in 4th Floor. It is a funny, chilling read – you can read it HERE.
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I continue to be tired. It’s like when you’re on a Merry-Go-Round and you jump off and you have to run so you don’t fall over and then you feel a bit dizzy and woozy until you get your balance back. That’s me right now.
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The Beetroot liquid makes a great vegetable dye (the vinegar in it acts as the ‘fixer’.)
After we ate the beets, I had some beautiful hand-spun wool that a friend had given me, but it was in pastel colours. I prefer stronger colours so I dyed it with the beet juice. Here is how it turned out:
What am I going to use the wool for? No idea. Back into the stash cupboard it goes for now.
My book is going to print at the end of this week! I can’t believe it.
Helen Rickerby, who owns Seraph Press and edited the book, has somehow made the process of editing and co-ordinating the book (seem) effortless AND even fun. She is a wonderful editor who really gets behind the poets she publishes, deeply engages with the writing and works to present the poetry in the best possible way.
So anyway, drum roll please, here is the cover! (There is much more to Sarah Laing’s design than just the front cover – there is a beautiful back cover, book flaps, inside cover and illustrations within – however – I want to leave some of it as a surprise for the ‘in real life’ experience of the book!)
So for now, here’s the front:
The textile art is by Melissa Wastney, a friend whose artwork I love very much.
I wanted something for the cover that combined my love of nature and textiles, and which was elegant and understated. I think designer Sarah Laing has more than achieved that. Thanks so much, Sarah! I love the texture and wrinkles of the slubby linen and the way the trees look like they could be underground…
(The book will be launched in Palmerston North on the 2nd December and in Wellington on the 3rd December. Launch details to come.)
I enjoy ironing. I think if you like to sew, you have to like to iron because ironing is such an key part of sewing.
I even have a poem about ironing in my book, called ‘Sunday Night’.
It doesn’t mean all my clothes are perfectly ironed, because I am a haphazard ironer. I only do it when I have a spare hour, which isn’t often.
The other day was a lovely sunny spring day, perfect for a bit of laundry – I got my vintage tablecloths out of storage – thinking ahead to summer meals on our porch. I gave them a wash, dried them in the sun and then spent a happy while ironing them.
One of my favourite cloths is one I picked up at an opshop, ‘The Birthday Cloth’:
It has all the months of the year around the outside, with that month’s birth-flower and birth-stone. Here are a few of my favourites:
As well as the vintagey (50s? 60s?) flowers, I love how quaint and twee it is. A cloth just for birthdays, which women must have laid on the table to serve tea and birthday cake to their friends or family.
If you like vintage textiles, there is a great New Zealand blog called Glory Box here – where they examine all manner of fascinating stuff around textiles and textile history.
I think it is important to USE the vintage textiles (and anything else!) you have – don’t worry about spills and wear. I firmly believe there is no point owning beautiful things just to store them. If they get ruined, ah well. It’s a good lesson in not getting attached to arbitrary things…nothing is permanent, nothing lasts forever.
I’ve used the birthday cloth a few times for friend’s birthdays. It makes people smile.
I like imagining all the birthdays that might have happened around this tablecloth.
Helen Lehndorf 