Trees for tourists

There has been some discussion lately on local radio about how the Corner Brook Pulp and Paper Mill (arguably the reason why there is a Corner Brook, or at least, why Corner Brook can boast of being Newfoundland's "Second City") can not harvest upwards of 25% of its trees because they are in areas that have become increasingly popular with tourists. The mill has had to import wood from other places because the goverment has been telling them that they don't want to ruin the aesthetics of the landscape for tourists. Given the increasingly competitive market for newsprint, which is mainly what the mill produces (do you read the The New York Times? The paper most likely came from Corner Brook), the mill is upset that it can't get to its own wood.

The mill has asked the provincal government to create a resource strategy that would clarify some priorities so they can plan for the future but the government is being a little vague, side-stepping the real questions with broad statements about supporting all industries and economic sectors, etc., etc..

It will be very interesting to see what will happen now that a major economic player like the mill has bumped up against everyone's new favorite belle at the ball, the tourism industry.

close your eyes slowly and offer a delusion...I mean...donut

I have been think a lot about validation lately. The House Museum project has been totally funded by me (and my family). I used up the vast profits from my percent for art project to get it started and, despite my efforts otherwise, it is, to date, an unfundable project: too Canadian for US foundations, too American for Canadian agencies. But so what? I don't have to answer to anyone else's ideas about what is acceptable, I have free rein. But....but...

Besides the money thing (and that isn't to be overlooked lightly), grants bring with them a certain amount of validation: we think what you are doing is worth something--money plus our seal of approval. I sometimes feel a bit of a fraud for not having that kind of validation. I mean, anyone could do anything and call it art! Oh, wait.

Perhaps it is all just part of a larger issue I have with seeking other people's approval. I know I am much too attached to the good side of that, judging from how sharply I feel the negative side of it. I don't know. Would I feel less like just one person doing my thing in a little house on the edge of a big rock in the north Atlantic if I had a letter and a cheque from some institution?

Any kind of fairy tale will do, apparently.

the key to all mythologies, etc.

I have lifted this from another blog that I have been reading and loving for its topics as well as its title: Casaubon's Book. Anyone who names their blog after George Eliot's Middlemarch is ok with me. I invite you visit her blog and visit often.

She is currently trying to reduce her family's energy footprint by 90% and is challenging others to try as well. Here is what she has to say:

"So here are 5 reasons to participate in the 90% reduction challenge.

1. Because we need to make be be the finale of seem. Instead of seeming to act, instead of talking about things like raising mileage standards on new cars, we need to deal with the reality that most of the cars have to come off the road. Instead of talking about biofuels as though they are meaningful substitute for oil, we need to start talking about feeding people in an increasingly hungry world. Much of what is happening now seems to be action, but isn't. The lie that we can keep things basically the same, only with windmills needs to be killed and buried, and the truth brought forth, with all its horny feet.

2. Because what we are doing is simply rational preparation for what is to come. Dave Pollard's analysis of the economic impact of further rises in gas prices is really important http://blogs.salon.com/0002007/2007/05/23.html#a1873- the fact that we've absorbed 3.50 gallon gas is no indication that we can continue to absorb price rises. I think Pollard's conclusion is an important one, and should remind all of us that we *will* be making massive cuts in our energy usage sooner or later. But sooner is better for the earth and better for us - voluntary cuts are a lot less painful than mandated ones.

3. Because with great power comes great responsibility. We're rich. If you use a computer and can read this blog, the odds are excellent you are among the richest 10-15% of the people on the whole earth. Yes, I know you don't always feel rich, but you are. So making major, voluntary cuts is not impoverishing yourself - it is balancing the scales a little, making things a little more just.

4. Because in order to keep up our lifestyle, we're doing things like this: http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,484661,00.html, and that's just plain wrong. Does anyone think that the damned war wasn't about the oil anymore? The less of it you buy, the less incentive you give the bastards who orchestrated this to keep killing them.

5. Oh, and it helps stop global warming too ;-)."

a thing rarely encountered

(updated 5/26/07)
We travelled under a cloud. A four-day car (and ferry) trip and all of it rainy. At the end of eight hours in the car with two children, getting to our motel room and watching HGTV wasn't quite enough to keep one happy or sane. Yet, we made it safe and sound and so I am very grateful. And this morning, I awoke to...not snow (that was yesterday)...but brilliant sunshine. I did the only logical thing: laundry!

I had another tearful reunion with my washing machine today. After three years of use, I never, ever take for granted the notion of tossing in a load of laundry at the last minute while in NYC. On the other hand, no electricity has its benefits, such as the upper body work-out that only three loads of laundry can give, and the chance to do laundry while day dreaming and gazing at the lovely Blomindon Mountains. Still snow covered, which is partly why we are still having temps below 10C (that means below 50F).

But I can't complain. I love cold weather, I love the chance to see spring transform the landscape not once but twice this year, and I love my adopted home here in Gillams.

I had some lovely pictures of our laundry and even an arty shadow shot that was all about fully enjoying that thing so rarely encountered of late: sunshine. Alas, dial-up service seems to make uploading photos a lengthy procedure. I will try another time.

PS. Just to be clear, most people in Newfoundland have all mod cons. It's just that, when we had the basement dug under our house, the contractor advised us that our "septic system" could not withstand regular use of a washing machine as well as toilet flushing and showers. So I purchased a hand agitated, non-electric washing machine made by a Mennonite in Pennsylvania. I love it and it does a great job, but I do suspect that nearly all other Newfoundlanders have a septic system, not a "septic system" and therefore avail themselves of a regular washing machine. But hey, everything in life is a trade-off...

I am not busy. You?

At F&L's dentist appointment the other day, the dentist was asking me about homeschooling (after I explained why we were able to come to an 11am appointment), and one thing leading to another, I remarked that I bake most of the bread we eat because, you know, I have the time to do it. The hygenist laughed and said, "That's the first time I have ever heard anyone say they have enough time! People are always talking about how busy they are!"

It got me thinking. I mean, we are busy. Homeschooling is one of the biggest misnomers of all time--we are not home very much--enough to make bread but I figure it out around everything else. But why is everyone is going around talking about being so busy? It is pretty safe to say that everyone is busy. It is a given of modern life thanks to all our time saving devices. So why even talk about it? Sometimes I think people are actually bragging about how busy they are--as if a full schedule is a way of determining one's importance. Who knows, maybe the opposite is true.

I also have been thinking about this after seeing the movie, "Into Great Silence" (see post below) that documents the lives of Carthusian monks who live in near silence and spend most of their time in prayer. And because I spent the better part of three days in a Zen sesshin a few weeks ago where I sat zazen for upwards of 14 hrs/day. During the movie and during the sesshin some of my thoughts were spent in wondering if this kind of thing--long periods of silent meditation--were worth anything at all to the rest of the world. Or was it only valuable as a personal experience? And if so, does that have any value to the rest of the world? I have no answers--three days of meditation left me with more questions than answers! But it made me decide to stop talking about how busy I am and start talking about my time in a different way.

I have decided that I am not busy.

I have time.

SABLE: Does the World Really Need to Know?

I have a friend in Omaha, NE, who could support himself as a clipping service for people. He clips'n'saves newspaper articles on a range of subjects for various friends. For a long time I didn't bother to read the New York Times since I knew he would save any articles that might interest me. Then he got a real job and the clippings have, understandably, dwindled a bit in number. Yesterday, however, he sent along a clipping from his hometown paper, the Omaha World Herald. It is a story about a widower who discovered "Skeins and skeins of (yarn). Shelves and Shelves full." It belonged to his wife and he found it after her death. I can't find a link to the actual article, dated 4/16/07, but here is the quote that really got me:

"Nathan said he found skeins of yarn on every shelf of every closet he opened in his Omaha home. He found it in big garbage bags. He found it in plastic bins..."

Apparently the yarn, patterns, needles, etc., were valued at about $5000. He donated it to the local Girls Club so they could teach young women and girls to knit.

Ok, a happy ending for all that yarn. But knitters...let this be a lesson to you! I made Dan promise not to go public with the extent of my yarn stash after I die. Now that I think of it, he really didn't give me a straight answer on that.

Last Harvest

I was listening, very casually, to NPR last weekend and suddenly I hear some guy talking about sprawl and suburbs and going out and really talking to the people who live there about what they like about it...and I think, 'damn! he stole my project!" As it turns out there is room enough for the two of us (he is not a knitter for one thing). His name is by Witold Rybczynski and he is, among other things, a writer. He has written a book called Last Harvest: How a Cornfield Became New Daleville: Real Estate Development in America from George Washington to the Builders of the Twenty-first Century, and Why We Live in Houses Anyway.

I have only read about the first 50 pages or so, but it is an interesting take on the changing look of suburban development in the US. As a resident of Sunnyside Gardens, I can atest to the success of living in a walkable, mixed use community centered around common green spaces. If this is the future of development, as Mr. Rybczynski seems to be suggesting, then that is a good thing.

The Metaphors are Flying

Hot on the heels of my incredible success putting a video on my blog, here is something I found about metaphors. As we know, this project is a giant metaphor. Metaphors are the very currency of art.

Enjoy.

Harmony Trail - The Movie

Edgewater ain't what it used to be

For those who fell in love with Edgewater, NJ, based on Joseph Mitchell's story in Up in the Old Hotel, I have some bad news. It's gone.

We travelled to Edgewater today to check out Mitsuwa, a giant Japanese mall/grocery store in Edgewater. (Can someone tell me how I managed to live in NYC for over 20 years and never learn about this place??). Being a big fan of Joseph Mitchell, I was pretty excited to get on their fabulous shuttle bus and go to Edgewater. I had heard it had changed, but sheesh!

Here are some pictures taken from the shuttle bus window. They do not do it justice. We will be back!






This one is from the Mitsuwa parking lot. A small hint of what used to be.

the road is long

Thanks to Janine, wonder woman and knitter extraordinaire, for the idea of working the intarsia fair isle by winding off the usual bobbins of color and simply weaving them back as I get to them. She suggested using a darning needle, but I found I could actually just weave the small balls of yarn through the carried loops without a needle. Hooray! I thought. Janine is a genius!

Well, I have no doubt whatsoever that Janine is a genius (a blogless genius, however). But yesterday I knit for hours and it was a slog. It was not fun. It, in fact, sucked. After several hours, I looked at my four inches or so of colorwork and thought about how this piece was but one of eight, and I thought I must figure out a better way. One thought I had was to knit the background (the lawns, as it were) and add the houses later - knit them separately and stitch them on later. But ugh, I want it to be of one fabric. This is metaphor! This is art!

I couldn't even take a picture of the damn thing. I left it sitting in its tangle of bobbins on a pile of shades of green, blue and white. I can't look at it at the moment.

I don't like getting my butt kicked by a piece of knitting. Grrrrr.

The Bigger the Fridge, the Lonelier the Person

There was an interesting article in last week's issue of The New Yorker about commuting. It addresses many of the conundrums of living in the suburbs, exurbs, new developments, or whatever you want to call it. And, if you stick with it, there is even some knitting content at the end!

Go Slow: Gestures of Resistance

I have had the good fortune to be introduced to Shannon Stratton recently via email. Shannon is the curator at ThreeWalls, an alternative art space in Chicago, and the co-leader of a session at the College Art Association's 2008 conference in Dallas, TX, titled Gestures of Resistance: Craft, Performance, and the Politics of Slowness. With the other leader of the session, Judith Leemann, she has started a website. It has been very exciting to learn about Shannon's work and her thoughts about knitting and craft and slowness as a political act. It also is exciting to know that what I have been up to is part of a larger collective unconscious, or whatever you want to call it, in which people are feeling the need to use labor-intensive handwork as a way of resisting the pervading culture of speed and consumption.

Shannon asked me to answer some questions as part of her research for her MA thesis. I thought it would be appropriate to post some of her questions and my answers as part of this project, which is all about using knitting on a large-scale as a way of exploring one of our culture's most prominent symbols of speed and consumption: sprawl. Since this project began perculating in my head a year ago or so, I have liked thinking about the way my knitting the large scale fair isle reproduction of a photograph of sprawl was, in its way, a completely absurd response: I am going to invest more time in the planning and actual knitting of this thing than it would take for most houses in new developments take to be built. I have other aspects of the project, also equally absurd in terms of time investment, which I will describe later. For now, however, here are two of Shannon's questions and my responses. Please chime in with your responses! If you give the ok, I will post those too. I would LOVE to hear what you have to say on the subject.

Do you differentiate between knitting as a craft and knitting as an art making strategy?

I assume you are asking me about these distinctions as they relate directly to me, personally, rather than as larger categories as they relate to all those who knit. On that assumption, I have to answer that I do differentiate. I knit socks and sweaters for my family for all the reasons that most knitters make things—I love the craft, I like handmade objects and it is a way of sharing my love for my family. On the other hand, I knit projects that I would distinctly categorize as art. At some point, these do begin to blend, however, especially in my project, The House Museum, where I have created an installation encompassing the entire interior of a house in Newfoundland as a way of exploring ideas related to tourism and culture. THM is a tourist attraction, open to the public from July – August every summer but it is also our home. I like to think that every activity that happens there thus becomes art, including whatever knitting I happen to be engaged in. Also, for that project, I have knit and crocheted curtains, pillows and other “useful” objects for the house but their conceptual underpinning, and my motivation for making them, is firmly rooted in an art making strategy.

What drew you to knitting as a format to begin with?

I have been knitting since I was eight, and seriously, regularly knitting since my early 20s but it didn’t become one of my main art practices until I was almost 30. I was trained as a painter in art school and it took me a long time to shake off all the prejudices I was taught to believe about what was “real” art (i.e. painting). It was such a relief to stop painting! I have always been drawn to wool, cloth, textiles, knitting, sewing, etc. The materials speak to me and excite me and fill me with ideas. I recently started spinning wool. The first time I ever used a spinning wheel I had the slightly unnerving but very exciting experience of feeling like my hands knew exactly what to do—that I had I had done this before and my whole body understood it. I have since heard that other people have had this experience. I think that these processes – knitting, spinning, etc – are so elemental to human experience that they are known to us, to our hands. I have given in to this feeling in a big way.

yikes!

Help! I need help!

I started the fair isle work on my section. It is a wee bit complicated trying to remember the fair isle, two-color pattern, as well as carry the other colors along (since it also has some intarsia), AND to make the decreases at regular intervals. In fact, I am having some trouble remembering all those things at the proper times so I spend about half my time tinking back so I can carry the other colors or suddenly remembering that there is, in fact, a pattern, or that I was supposed to decrease.

So I need some help!

Is there a way to do intarsia on circular needles? The problem is that I knit across and drop the one set of yarns, then I pick up the other set and head off down the row, then when I get back 'round...wait a minute...where's my yarn?? Darn it, way back there at the end of the section. UGH! Someone must have figured this out, right?

If you know the trick to knitting intarsia on circular needles, please let me know. I'm over here, dying.

Harmony Trail - part II

We were back at my sister's house and I had the opporunity to shoot some video and take more photographs. If I can figure out the technical challenges, I will try to post some of the video. I am pretty excited about it.

In the meantime, I still want to know, what is this place?

Back to the topic at hand

I have been a little sidetracked by a number of things, including this:



This is a sweater/coat that was intended to give some practice at two-color knitting and steek cutting. It is from a book called Norskstrikkedesign. It was one of those late nights when I was captured by the siren song of the internets, and I bought the kit from Nordic Fiber Arts. Now, I am not a yarn harlot. I have project loyalty and I have a very hard time starting new projects when I have something already on the needles. So, it took a distinct force of will to actually cast on the first of eight sections that will ultimately be my knit sprawl.



I decided to knit a black boarder around the whole thing to give myself some leeway in terms of how it will ultimately be presented. Also, it allows me to slowly work my way into the yarn and the piece before the fair isle work starts. I mean, not that I'm scared or anything.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today my mother is 80 years old. She taught me to knit when I was around eight (and then again when I was 14 when it finally stuck). One of my clearest memories of her when I was growing up is of her sitting on the couch at the end of the day, knitting. No doubt that was her first chance to sit down all day but she was not (and still is not) the type to sit with idle hands. Like so much of women's work, we always took her knitting for granted: the sweaters and hats and mittens kept coming and we assumed they always would. It wasn't until I really started knitting seriously myself that I realized what amazingly talented knitter she is. I like to think I encouraged her to see herself as very talented knitter--no one had ever told her that before and, at first, she didn't really even know what I was talking about when I would praise her work. Now, we encourage each other to keep challenging ourselves, pushing our skills, expanding our stash*. She is a wonderful knitter and a very wonderful mother!

Happy BIrthday Mom!



* as an aside: once a factory close-out type store near my mom (Building 19 1/2 for New England readers) was having a big yarn sale, mostly cone yarns but good quality wools. By chance I was going to be in the general area and, while I was probably not going to be able to see my mother, I was arranging my schedule to be able to stop by and check out the yarn sale. This, of course, was completely ridiculous because I have acheived SABLE (Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy), but, there it was--a yarn sale, we're talking enough yarn for a sweater for $2!. Anyway, I had several conversations with my mother about whether or not I would be able to make it the sale, the yarn she had purchased at the sale, etc. Finally my plans changed at the last minute and I was not going to be in the area and I won't be able to get to the sale at all. I received a phone message late in the day. It was my mother offering to go to the sale and pick up some yarn for me if I would just tell her some colors I might want--the thought that I might miss this opportunity was too much for her! My mother, the enabler.

Into Great Silence

Still playing at Film Forum for another week or 10 days: Into Great Silence.

See it!

do you knit in NYC? If so, read on...

Unrelated to sprawl but related to knitting...The Yarn Harlot will be launching her newest book on Thursday, March 22 at FIT here in NYC at 6 p.m. She is hoping to gather 750 knitters in their auditorium to show the world that knitters are a force to be reckoned with. Those who knit already know this to be true but apparently there are some out there who doubt our strength. Fools, all of them.

Click on the link to get all the inside information from the YH herself.

terra incognita

Being something of a mapophile, I love looking at old maps, especially looking at how new information causes the maps to change over time. As a young student, I took it for granted that maps were were based on facts and, as such, were neutral objects that told the truth about a place. It was only much later that I realized that all maps have a point of view that determines what and how they depict what they depict, and that this has the power to shape our experience of a place.

Some of my favorite maps are old maps that have large stretches of land labeled "terra incognita." These, at least, seem more honest. Sometimes I like to imagine my life like a big map with large portions labeled "terra incognita." As I wander through, bits are revealed and ever so slowly small portions of my terra incognita melt away.