Berlin Diaries

Here are some pictures of the exhibition Not Stained, Not Pure. The exhibition had several parts but all of it was based on exploring ideas related to the experience, my experience, of understanding how I aim for this goal of understanding the natural order of things and wish to be fearless, and the reality of what I really feel, which is a lot of fear. This seemed very a propos for my trip to Berlin because it called up so many of my deepest fears, beginning with my fear of flying. So I started there by making drawings about that. Each day, as I made more images, themes emerged and I tried to let images come without judgement about good/bad. I wanted them to be a diary of sorts and not about making "art." So, I let it flow: the good, the bad and the ugly. And I found this really cool pen that has a brush at the nib that makes the most beautiful marks. I am so in love with this pen, as you can see.










This image kept coming up, so I decided to crochet it.



These were some others that I particularly liked:







Each morning I would mix drawing on paper with drawing on the wall of the gallery. On the wall, I would write out the Heart Sutra and two dharanis (sounds chanted that have no particular meaning as words). After the first day, I washed off the previous day's writing, let the wall dry, then wrote out the Sutra and the dharanis again in another colour.


Day One.




Day Two.


Day Three.




Day Four.




Day Five

The wall began to be very beautiful with all the colours because it was impossible to completely remove all the watercolour from it each day. For the exhibition, however, I washed off the last writing and left just the stained wall.





On the wall opposite, I crocheted a large piece (about two meters/six feet in diameter).





Even for the incredibly fluent Sonya, the word "stained" was a puzzle. Apparently it is not something that has a real equivalent in German.


I also keep a running log of my purchases in Berlin, which I displayed. (Note the German self-patterning sock yarn...it was a bargain!)

And I did create a sound piece that used the chanting from the Zen Center in New York mixed, or layered is perhaps a better word, with a variety of sounds I collected in Berlin: the grocery store, the U-Bahn (subway), a dinner party, the sirens of the near-by fire station, etc. I am trying to figure out a way to be able to download it, or a sample of it, to my website and the Hope and Glory website, but I haven't been sucessful with that yet.

In retrospect, it looks like a lot of work. It didn't feel like a lot of work. It felt like a very natural and normal part of each day's activities; the normal flow of how I communicate about what I see around me. It made me happy to learn that I still very much love to do that--draw and make work from that part of my person.

So now I have six weeks to reflect and recover a little from these two busy months of traveling before...Newfoundland. But I shan't think of that today.

Berlin 6AM

That was me, this morning...getting on a plane to Zurich and from there, JFK. We landed at JFK at about 12:45 pm, which was nearly 7 pm according to my clock. I have lots of pictures: art, yarn, chocoloate (what else is there?) but for tomorrow. The rest of this day is for getting through as best I can without falling on my face. I'm tired, but it's a good tired.

Not Stained, Not Pure

It is hard to know where to start! I do not have access to the internet at the gallery so I am trying to cram five days of email and information into one hour now that I am somewhere with access. Of course, now I can't think of a thing to say despite that I have been preparing blog entries in my head all day long. So, I will have to share some pictures and see if that sparks anything profound, or not so profound.


This is Sonya and Alex, my hosts in Berlin. They co-organize Hope and Glory and they have been very generous with their time and efforts to make me feel at home here. We are on a double-decker bus heading to Martin Gropius Bau to see an exhibition of an Israeli artist named Dani Caravan.



Before we could get to the museum, however, we had to walk past Checkpoint Charlie, the former point of exit and entry between East and West Berlin. It is now a tourist attraction. I was photographing all the people photographing the people who have just paid 1euro to have their picture taken with a fake US and USSR soldier. Go capitalism! Yah!



Here is a shop near the gallery: Pimp Your Hair. For "Herren und Kinder" which means men and children. Uh-huh.



Now here is an intersection that you will never see in the US: the corner of Karl Marx Strasse and Karl Marx Platz. I stood right there and nothing bad happened to me. I swear!



And last but not least. Please come to the one-night only exhibition of "Not Stained, Not Pure: A Meditation on 10-Days in Berlin" featuring a sound installation, a series of works on paper, an ongoing wall drawing project and a crochet work. Join us at Hope and Glory at 9 p.m. on Friday evening (Emser Str. 126, NeuKolln). Beer will be served.

It is Easter Sunday in Berlin. I survived the plane rides although there were some tense moments. I have been studiously not thinking about the return trip.

I am set-up in the gallery, which is, as promised, somewhat primitive in terms of living space. But it is everything that I need: a bed, a fridge, an electric kettle and lots of space and time for working and thinking. I have been drawing a lot, walking around a lot, and feeling immensely grateful for the German educational system that means that nearly everyone from all walks of life can speak excellent English.

At the moment, I can not post pictures because I have to use Sonya's computer to get internet access. The gallery may be wired later in the week but perhaps not.

The neighborhood where I am staying is almost exclusively Turkish with a handful of Asian immigrants there too. I realized that, in Dallas, we stayed in Irving, which is the Queens of Dallas. In Berlin, I am staying Neue Kolln, which is the Queens of Berlin. Or something like that. Now that I think of it, Gillams could be called an outer borough of Corner Brook.

Always destined for the outer boroughs. Not a lot of glitz but the food is good.

Snare and Delusion

So...instead of packing or making 90 little books of knitted mile photos for all my generous knitters or preparing meals for my children to eat while I am away...I decided I absolutely had to, right at this moment, take photographs of the spinning that I have been working on so I could post them here. I wish I could unscrew my head for the next 24 hours and replace it with someone else's. Maybe Vanna White. She looks so happy and content on those yarn labels.

But anyway, here are the pictures that are replacing wholesome meals for my darlings:



This is hand dyed targhee top. Targhee is a breed that has fleece similar to merino but stronger without losing the amazing softness. It was not dyed by me but by Spinning Bunny. She calls it "Berry Patch" but I have decided to call it Pynn's Brook, which is where we head every late August/early Sept. to pick the blueberries that are made into the jelly that gets us through the winter. I don't think I am giving away a state secret in naming it thus, given the number of cars we see along the road to the berry patch(es). I spun thin singles, as thin as I could, then navajo plied, which makes it a 3-ply yarn. But because the singles were quite thin, the resulting yarn isn't too bulky. I haven't measured it but I am guessing it is a worsted weight. I think I will have about 750yds when I am finished plying the last of it. This is destined for Wee Ball Yarns. It will be the first time that I haven't dyed and spun what I sell, but this is so perfectly Pynn's Brook to me that I think it is ok.



Here is the other colourway I got from Spinning Bunnies. It is actually yellower than this slightly blurry picture suggests. I was trying to spin thick singles but it is over-spun and irregular, which is disappointing. This will become a hat or something. I can't, in good conscience, try to sell it. I had my wheel set on a very slow speed and high take-up but still it is over-spun. I am not sure what I am doing wrong but obviously I need more practice. I am debating whether to go back to thin singles and navajo plying for the rest of it or to keep trying on the thick singles. I guess it doesn't matter at the moment since....help!...I need to pack!

Things Larger Than Myself

In hopes of distracting myself from my increasing pre-flight anxiety (although it may be too late for such measures), I have been trying to keep up with the situation in Tibet. If you are interested, you might want to take a look at this blog, which has some fairly up-to-date information about what is happening there. The blog is written by a man who is a Unitarian Universalist and Zen priest and he often has information and general thoughts that I very much enjoy reading. Once you read - and sign the petition for whatever it's worth - about the terrible things happening in Tibet, scroll down a little and check out his six-word biography. I may have to steal it!

Here's the link: Monkey Mind

Fear of Flying

As I was obsessively watching the weather reports for Wednesday evening, I realized that I had to get grip on my little problem, which is I am deathly afraid to fly. I have been working hard on this and part of my motivation for going to Berlin was to prove to myself that I can do it. Last night I started have little moments of panic--maybe they were also related to leaving my family for 11 days--but I mostly managed to talk myself back from the ledge.

The last time I flew was in 1997 when I went to Newfoundland for the first time. I remember looking down during the flight back to NYC and being able to see my heart beating through my fleece jacket. I thought that this kind of thing can not be good for one's overall health so I stopped flying (natch). This was really not so hard since I was incredibly busy with two small children and most of my family live within a five-hour drive. Cut to ten years later and this wonderful invitation to come to Berlin and make a project lands in my lap...what are you going to do but get over it already!

Although, I am not sure what it means that I am slightly sweating just writing this down. Wish me luck!

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

Just did my taxes for 2007. Note to self: Remember to make more money in 2008.

Movie: The Movie

On Wednesday we (Finn, Lucy and I) had a wonderful opportunity drop into our lap. A friend of ours was visiting Deitch Projects, a gallery in SoHo (who knew there were any left?) to see an installation by the film director Michel Gondry. He is known for films such as The Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, among others. His installation coincides with his latest movie titled Be Kind, Rewind. In the gallery he has set up about 10 various little movie sets, a props department, costumes and two stations for developing storylines for short films. Visitors to the gallery are invited to sign up for a time slot, which allows them about 2.5 hours of time to develop and shoot a short film. No editing allowed--all shots are final shots. Then, there is a little viewing area where you can see your film, along with others that have been made during the exhibition.

Our friend and his two sons were having a great time looking around and messing with the sets, etc., when Michel noticed them and invited them to make a movie. He went so far as to have the gallery open early so that they could get a time slot since all the others were booked up. But he told them that they needed to invite more people since the project worked best with groups of 6-15 people. And so it was that we were making a short film at 10 am on a Wednesday morning.

Our group consisted of six children, ages 3-11, one teenager, and three adults. In the end, it took us more like four hours to complete the process but it was an amazing experience, especially for the children who lead the process of story development, made the costume decisions, and were just incredible as writers, actors, collaborators. The only downside was that we did not get a copy of our film--everything we produced: our storyboards, title cards, etc., are being kept by Gondry.

We titled our film, Movie: The Movie. A synopsis of the plot would be along the lines of "a group of children break into a movie studio to make a movie about a gang of robbers but along the way they get distracted by a television. They click through several channels and watch: a cooking show, a show called "Hard Wood Floors," the 10 o'clock movie called "Fairies Dancing In the Woods" and a bit of a newscast where they learn that a band of real robbers are on the loose. At that moment, the real robbers break into the movie studio and also get distracted by the TV, which is showing pictures of them as wanted criminals. The gang of children notice the robbers and tie them up and bring them to the police station."

Sundance, here we come!

Built for Speed, Not Comfort

Is it human nature or is it an illness created by living in a culture that values speed over everything else? Yesterday, someone asked me how my project went and my first thought was "what project?" Oh yeah...that old thing...

Sigh.

Part of my feeling like the Dallas project is already behind me is that the next one is looming large on the horizon. A week from today I head to Berlin for 11 days. Eleven days to make art, live art, look at art. Did I mention it is 11 days to do all those things...alone? Yes, after over a decade of having constant companionship, I will have 11 days on my own in a foreign city where my only mission is to make art and look at art. And maybe eat lots of pastry too. It feels totally unbelievable.

My primary thought about making a project in the gallery space where I will be both living and working was to keep it simple. Please, stop laughing! I am sure I can make a simple project if I stay focused. Ok, the project has already morphed a little and involves creating a sound installation, which, you know, I haven't ever really done before. But other than that. Alright, it also involves finding a zen center in Berlin willing to let me record their chanting, then manipulating that sound file with the sound file of chanting I record in NYC, not that my zen center has given me permission to do that yet. And making lots of drawings.

Simple, you know.

Appearing Canadian

Next week Dan will head to Buffalo for a day. No, not just to eat some wings, although I am sure he will do that. He will be carrying our passports to the Canadian consulate there to be stamped with...er...well, a stamp...that means we are now offically Canadian permanent residents. Sorry, I think that needs to read: Canadian permanent residents!!!!!!!

The consulate sent us a letter saying that "it appears that your application is complete and..." Appears? They love to leave you with that little frisson of doubt, those Canadians. (Like how I am already adding little bits of French into my daily vocabulary--so Canadian!)

We could mail our passports to them, but given our recent experiences with the USPS, we thought it was worth the extra money to deliver them in person. Dan will get them back the same day and be home, with his feet up on our chesterfield, listening to Bare Naked Ladies and eating Kraft Dinner by evening.

Beauty, eh?

What Goes Around...

I just received an email from Janine (yes, blogless Janine of the missing package containing 60 feet of yellow garter stitch. News update: it may have been stolen! Imagine the look on the thief's face when he opens the package expecting a camcorder or something...). Janine grew up in Tennessee and knows from Jesus Loves You. I think her words were "You Yankees are so serious and take things so literally" Ok, Janine! I am laughing at myself. But what can I say? I have a 2000-foot long space in my head where all that knitting used to be. I had to fill it up with something!

More importantly than God and Man, I need to share a project that has come to my attention. It is titled The Lost Boys and it is being created by a Canadian artist named Michele Karsh Ackerman. She has spent time at the Pouch Cove artist residence where she was researching and working on installation projects dealing with World War I and the connection of the young soldiers with the lost boys in Peter Pan (which was first published during the first World War). In her research at The Rooms, she came across the devestating story of Beaumont Hamel.

Her new project is to knit a miniature (doll size) sweater for every soldier who was killed that day at the Battle of the Somme--700 in total. She has 200 knit and needs around 500 more. She would love some help from other knitters, especially knitters in Newfoundland. The sweaters are to all be white or off white (natural). Any kind of yarn can be used (she wants differences in them) but approx. the worsted weight. Please use a medium size needle - about 5mm or 6mm. You are also welcome to tuck any kind of note or personal memorial of your own inside the sweaters.

I have the pattern and would be happy to email it to anyone interested in knitting sweaters. The finished project will be presented at The Rooms, I believe this summer. I am not completely sure the best way to get the sweaters to the artist but I have offered to be a collection point and to carry them to Newfoundland with us in May. If you are interesting in knitting, I will give you more details as I know them via email.

Given that I have been the beneficiary of volunteer knitting from upwards of 90 generous knitters, I thought I had better get some little sweaters cooking on the needles. The first will be for my great uncle Eddie who survived being gassed in the trenches in France in WWI. Then, I think given the senseless and tragic deaths that have been adding up in our name lately--as senseless and tragic as those of the poor Newfoundlanders at Beaumont Hamel--I think there are plenty other memorials that can be made.

Rivers

Bringing up the subject of god on a blog where most people are coming over to look at a knitted mile seems a bit of a red herring but, in my mind, my attempts to understand this world of ours are as much about knitting a mile as they are about figuring out the meaning of that billboard in Alabama. It's all process: watching the process, being the process, or something like that. I'm still working it out.

After reading Patti and Shawn's comments yesterday, I had a couple more thoughts that I wanted to toss out.

First, I was reminded of a story I read somewhere (sorry for being so pathetic on references). The story goes along these lines: Two Zen monks were walking along--they were monks in a tradition that was very strict and forebade them from touching women--and they came to a river. There was a young woman there who needed to get across for some very important reason (sorry again for being vague on details) but she could not swim and so she asked if they would carry her across. After a brief hesitation, one of the monks offered to carry the woman across, and he does. The two monks then continue on their way. About a half hour later, the other monk finally bursts out and says "I can't believe you carried that woman across the river!" The other monk replied, "why are you still carrying her?"

Later, as I was looking through a book called The Art of Just Sitting, a collection of essays on shikantaza edited by John Daido Loori, I came across an essay by Zoketsu Norman Fischer. Here is a snippet from the first page of his essay titled "A Coin Lost in the River is Found in the River":

"Zazen is fundamentally a useless and pointless activity. A person is devoted to zazen not because it helps anything or is peaceful or interesting or because Buddha tells him to do it--though we may imagine that it helps or is peaceful or interesting--but simply because one is devoted to it. You can't argue for it or justify it or make it into something good. You just do it because you do it. It's not even a question of wanting to or not wanting to. Zazen for zazen's sake. Birds sing, fish swim, and people who are devoted to zazen do zazen with devotion all the time although there is no need for it.

Our life is already fine the way it is..."

More Questions Than Answers -or- Decide How Much You Want to be Offended Now...Then You May Proceed

Today, being Sunday and all, feels right to delve into a topic that has been simmering in my head since we started seeing "Jesus Loves You" billboards in Tennessee. Actually, I think "Jesus Loves You" billboards are fine, as far as they go, but I did have some questions about a billboard, or rather a series of billboards, that we saw in Alabama. We saw a couple of them that were clearly made by the same person or group, who were not identified anywhere on the billboard. They were all black with white lettering on them, and here is what one said:

Why not stop by my house
on Sunday before the game?
- God

I guess here might be a good place to mention that, as a Zen Buddhist (why do I think that by writing that I have just made myself not a Zen Buddhist?), I don't believe in God. Buddhism is a religion that believes that the idea of a god is yet one more separation between the sentient being and their full realization of the true nature of things. So billboards purporting to spout the casual conversations of God to others should not be a big concern of mine. But something about this little group of them really confounded me. Is it ok for someone - who? - to do just that: to decide to write little snippets of casual conversation and label them as coming from God? And then print them out and put them on highway billboards? What, exactly, is the purpose of this?

I was brought up as an Episcopalian in Massachusetts. My mother's family is full of Anglican ministers and even a bishop somewhere in there, in Newfoundland and England. My dad's family...well...not so much. But the long and short of it is, this is not your "go tell it on the mountain" crowd: stiff upper lip and all that. Of money and religion we do not speak. In fact, when I was still searching for a teacher and a sangha, I went to hear Sogyal Rinpoche give a two-day talk. At the beginning of the first day, his assistant gave a little speech that was along the lines of "you may hear some things here that will resonate with you strongly. Do not go out and tell all your friends but let them sit with you quietly." I loved it. Don't go tell it on the mountain!

But back to the billboard. Here was someone who was inventing the word of God. Isn't that supposed to be frowned upon?

Also, I was reading this book titled "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert on the road. Out of some kind of reverse snobbism, I had avoided it since it was so popular but I was desperate for something to read at one point in Dallas so I bought it and was immediately sucked in. There is a lot of conversation about God in that book. Her description of God as the ultimate in unconditional love, not tied to dogma or really tied to anything except the willingness to be open to it, sounded good to my peacenik, anti-instituitonal ears. One of the main ways she goes about getting closer to God is through meditation, which sounded good to my zazen practicing mind/body. So I am all grooving on this book where this person who is about my age is going to all my favorite places in the world and having these mindshaping, life changing experiences, and then "why not come by my house on Sunday..."

And I was offended. There, I said it. It pissed me off, me: the non-believer, the student of Zen.

I still am not exactly sure what about that billboard that struck a nerve with me. Was it the casual tone? Was it the notion of someone pretending that God is out there recruiting people to visit him/her/it/them? Was it all of that? Also, I thought about if someone put a quote from Buddha on a billboard, would that make me angry? Well, there is a huge difference. For one, "the Buddha" meaning the historical Buddha was a real person, like Jesus. You are quoting Buddha and you are quoting a real person. God is an idea, a concept, or perhaps a phemonena beyond description. You are quoting...what exactly? That billboard made this idea/concept/phemonena of "God" into a person who wants to hang out "before the game"?

Maybe it made me angry because the people I know who are closest to being bodhisattvas on this earth are ones who have worked very, very hard to get there. They move through the world in what seems like an effortless way now, but I know their paths were full of doubt and facing up to all their personal flaws and weaknesses, and full of just plain hard work. This damn billboard seemed almost to be mock all they have done, as if dropping by church before a game was all it takes.

But as I write this, I am reminded of something that the teacher at the Zen Center said as we started a three-day sesshin last spring. He asked us if it mattered what people called us - is one really better than another? More accurate in its description of who we are? He started out with his name, then his darma name, then "teacher... my love...asshole...jerk" Does it matter? Which one do we cling to? And which one trips us up?

Like I said, more questions than answers.

Odds and Ends

Firstly, here is what we saw in Montgomery, Alabama:



Springtime! We discovered a large playground in "Old Alabama Town" and F&L ran around, estatic to be free of the backseat of the car. I wandered around enjoying the old houses, the singing birds and the warmth on my hair. And then, one thought began to loom large: August. 70F/20C is all well and good in February but it comes at a cost. Pay me now or pay me later, as they say.

I think I prefer 70F/20C in August, come what may in February.

Then, these arrived yesterday:







They are from Peace Fleece, a group in Maine that tries to create connections between traditional enemies through fleece and other knitterly items. These wooden buttons were handpainted in Russia. If you order a certain amount from them, they offer you wholesale price, which makes things quite reasonable especially if you go in on it with a friend, which is what I did. Aren't they just so darn pretty? I have no idea what I will use them for except to look at them and feel happy.

And lastly, my reward knitting;



The Texas-bought Manos del Uruguay knit up into Fetching with some modifications made only because I had to shut down my computer for the roadtrip and hadn't bothered to write down the instructions beforehand so I found myself winging it for the thumb hole part. I love them not only for their incredible colours and soft warmness but for the fact of the purl stitches, the use of double pointed needles and the cable crosses. Look Ma! No garter stitch!

And Futhermore...

0.36 miles equals 1,900.8 feet.

Addendum to the Installation

We made it back to NYC yesterday afternoon but it wasn't until this morning that I think I actually realized I was home. Yesterday was something of a fuzzy blur, as if by finally reaching our destination I was allowed to check out slightly from reality. But I have checked back in after a good night't sleep--is there any greater gift?

There were a couple of things that happened after the installation of The Knitted Mile that seem worth mentioning. As I made my good-bye's to the curators, Judith and Shannon, they both said that they really want to have the exhibition travel since it turned out so well. And it is a really interesting exhibition, in my humble opinion. That would mean perhaps The Knitted Mile would be installed another time, or even a couple of times. They both felt that it needed more of an audience that it received in Dallas. I have to agree with that. The installation was powerful and beautiful and we were the lucky few who saw it. It would be great to have more people really see it firsthand. So, there is talk about a northern installation, perhaps in Massachusetts where Judith lives and works. The only thing that holds me back, well - two things - that hold me back from being very happy that they want to re-install the piece is 1. the giant tangle! It boggles the mind to imagine getting it back into fire hose position. Patience will be on order. And maybe Patti, who is the world's best knot untangler.

The second reason I slightly hold back from pumping my fist in the air while hollering "yes!" is that I still have about a dozen skeins of Vanna sitting in my living room that I was looking forward to returning to Michael's or donating to a worthy cause or whatever. Now....if the thing yet lives....shouldn't I knit up those last skeins? Have mercy on me! On the brighter side, Janine's package never did arrive, so it may get a second chance to be part of the project. And with all those extra feet of knitting, maybe we can push the length up to an even 0.5 miles. I do love me those round numbers.

But I can not think about knitting garter stitch today. No, today, among the laundry and settling back in, I plan to dust off my lovely spinning wheel and have a little "getting re-acquainted" party. My darling...how I have missed you...

The Knitted Mile: Installation Day

We awoke to a grey day this morning - about 35F/2C. This is Texas? I hadn't anticipated the need for hats and mittens on installation day, but there you are. I donned my winter coat and loaded up the car. The only hitch was that it was only last night as I lay in bed that I figured out exactly how I would be able to get all the knitting onto the road without it becoming a tangled mess (unrolling the rolls only works if you hold the rolls on their side and that proved too squishy and unstable). So, at about 8am, I was laying the knitting in the back of the car like a fire hose.



I am sure the hotel maintenance staff were thinking "¿Quién es esa gringa loca? " as they began their day's work with me carefully laying untold feet of yellow knitting into the back of my car. At about 9:30am, I was still not finished (it's hard to stitch when your fingers are frozen!) so I piled the rest of the rolls in the back and headed off to the gallery to finish the job.





Once there, we met up with Jenny, who also only just arrived in Dallas recently and who very willingly and generously offered to help out with the last bit of laying-in of the stripe. In fact, I don't think this would have come off half as well as it did without Jenny's assistance--thank you Jenny!





The car finally loaded up, we.....went inside the gallery to warm up! Isn't this supposed to be Texas? Did I say that already?

Then we headed over to the road carefully selected for its length and near total lack of traffic. For the detail oriented, it was called Hill Street from Main Street to where it meets up with N. Haskell.





Do you want to know exactly how long it was in the end? Is it important? I am tempted to not even mention it since it feels a little anti-climatic given that it felt very long. The experience of it was long in as much as we were only half way done and I was thinking "I can't believe we are only half way done!" I suppose not telling is like asking someone to take a test and never letting them know the results.

Ok, ok. it was 0.36 miles long. Do you feel differently about a mile yet?

Other random observations include:

- Some cars automatically followed the new line on the road despite the fact that it swerved across the road. One car even nearly ran off the road in order to follow the line.

- The stripe looked very convincing.





And then it would rise up slightly and twist in the wind. The road comes to life.



- Judith drove the car (heroically, btw) at 1mph while the stripe was put down. Finn and Lucy sat in the back (some of the pictures come from Lucy's camera). At one point, she went 2mph and Lucy said, "you're going fast now!" Finn said, "road rage!"

- One driver, who had observed us installing the stripe then got in his truck but stopped as he needed to cross the stripe. He, very politely, rolled down his window and asked permission to cross.



- When it came time to collect the stripe up again, we debated and decided that giant tangle was probably the best option.



The stripe now resides in the gallery, along with all the photograhs I collected from nearly all the knitters (the photo only shows about half of the photos--the other half are on the other side of the door to the next gallery).



It is hard to convey how beautiful it was. As someone other than me said, it was using the most humble means to take back something in a powerful way. It was funny and painfully lovely.

To everyone who contributed: your hands, your touch and intentions were here. We all felt it.



Thank you!

PS. I do have more pictures and video, and Shannon took many, many pictures as well. I will print out some for everyone who contributed when I get back to NYC.

So Not That It Is

We had a very not-Dallas day. We took the commuter train - yes, a train! - into downtown Dallas to attend Shannon and Judith's session at the CAA conference, which was titled Gestures of Resistance (surprise, surprise). It was a wee bit academic for my personal taste but there were some really great things said about craft and slowness as a political act. I wish I could have a written transcript of their introductory remarks since they used some nice language that I wouldn't mind stealing for my next artist statement.

The session was rather long but I came prepared with the last skein of Vanna so I could finish up the last bit of yellow knitting. Did I just say that? Yes! The last bit of yellow knitting FOREVER! Alright, I did start on the Manos last night but I thought I should be knitting on the stripe at the session. Keeping up appearances and all. Lucy and Finn were great, especially considering it was 2.5 hours of talk. Finn read a book while Lucy knit on a totally adorable Japanese kit that makes a cellphone pouch. She will use it as a bag for general purposes but it won us over with its intense cuteness yesterday. Then we got on the light rail and went back to the commuter train and were back in Irving in about 40 car-free, stress-free minutes. I should add that day passes for all this train riding cost us a total of $6.50 for all three of us - $2 of it only because Finn lost his day pass somewhere along the way. Ok, I am starting to like Dallas.

THEN, arriving back in Irving, we were all pretty hungry so we decided to drive around a bit in Irving to see if we could score some tacos or something when it became clear that Irving is home to a large Indian community. I took a wrong turn that ended up being the best wrong turn ever. We discovered the Taj Chaat House, home to the best south Indian food I have ever had outside of, well, south India. Sorry Dosa Hut, they have you beat!

Between the train rides and the Indian food, Dallas is definitely growing on me.

New Jersey X 1000 = Dallas

We made it to the gallery today and made an executive decision to postpone the installation until Friday am. For any and all who might be in the vicinity of Dallas and able to come watch and/or assist with the installation of The Knitted Mile, here are the details:

We will meet at Gray Matter (113 N. Haskell Avenue) at 10 am. From there we will proceed to the installation site nearby. The installation will be photographed and videotaped. After the piece is installed, it will be removed and transported back to the gallery. There will be an opening reception for the exhibition, Gestures of Resistance, on Friday evening at Gray Matter from 7 - 9 pm. All are welcome to come by and see some great art that speaks to craft, performance and the politics of slow. The Knitted Mile will be on view along with photographs of (most of) the 86 knitters who helped to make this project happen.

As an aside, we made a visit to The Shabby Sheep, a refuge from the car madness that has Dallas in its grip. The people working there, presumably the owner and her dog, and the woman who was knitting (who can blame her - it is a really lovely shop!) were all so welcoming. It was a very nice moment - to be surrounded by things I know and understand (that would be yarn) and people who feel the same way. I love knitters!

And, after nearly two months of knitting yellow acrylic yarn in garter stitch, I felt a reward was in order.



Not a very good picture of some Manos del Uruguay silk blend (30% silk, 70% merino). Move over Vanna!

Here We Are

We left Sunnyside on Saturday am, loading up the back of the car with the knitting. The knitting took up the entire back space so all our bags had to occupy the passenger seat in the front.



By Saturday evening, we were in Roanoke, Virginia. I am sure it is a lovely place but as it was pitch dark when we arrived, we saw very little. Despite my best efforts to find hotels on-line that were in downtown areas, not on the highway, we were, in fact, on a strip where the only food options were Hardee's and something called "Jersey Lily's." And McDonalds, but that is not an option in my book. So we went to a grocery store instead. Simple but it worked and we were set for breakfast as well. This was good since our next day's destination was Memphis - a twelve hour drive. And we made it! It was a long day but we ended up at the Heartbreak Hotel, which is run by Elvis's estate. It was pretty funny and a real education for Finn and Lucy, who kept asking why so many people love Elvis so much that they need a special hotel for them. A hard question to answer, my dears.


Still knitting. Is that why they call it the Heartbreak Hotel?

And today...Dallas! We made it!

Throughout this whole trip I have felt very strongly that I am stranger here. It feels very weird to me to head south and west. Most of my travels have been north and east. I am comfortable heading north and east. I don't know from south and west. And so it is that I discovered that the south, with its very visible love of Jesus and Cracker Barrel, feels as foreign to me as any trip to Europe I have ever taken. I realized that I don't know the ways of this world, that all my usual ways of obtaining goods and services no longer work here. I hardly know the language even. It is a strange feeling. But it is fun too. To be a stranger can give one a lot of leeway, which I hope to take advantage of as much as possible in the next few days.


Here is a car wash in Texarkana, Texas. The picture isn't very clear, but it is called the 15:13 car wash, and the numbers refer to Biblical scripture which is quoted on the white panel on the side of the building. Who knew the lord spoke on keeping your car clean?

My final, somewhat disjointed, three-days-in-a-car thought is that, when I imagined this place (Dallas) and its relationship to cars, well, I really didn't know the half of it. It is intense! I think the project is very, very appropriate. But will anyone slow down enough to see it?

Here It Is

After a wee bit of drama, the packages from Newfoundland arrived:



I am speechless! It made me cry for the care and joy and trouble that went into this contribution. Into ALL the contributions. A friend recently told me that she only cares now about "honest intent" and her words have stayed with me throughout this process. The intention that this work is filled with, and I by no means mean my own ideas and intentions here, is just overwhelming. Look at this picture that came with the yarn:



These are women who are part of the senior's club in Port Saunders on the Northern Peninsula. It is so beautiful and heart breaking at the same time. It makes me cry!

But wipe away those tears so you can see this. Here it is (minus one more contribution that will arrive this evening):



Dallas, here we come: me, Finn, Lucy and a whole hellava lot of knitting!

UPDATE: I have THREE more contributions coming tonight! And I tried to make a final tally of all the knitters who contributed and I am at more than 80. It boggles the mind. Let's just hope that the Dallas police department are as impressed as I am...