you know you're home when you have dog spit on your glasses

A moment ago, while waiting for my tea to steep, I ate the last handful of travel gorp.

It was delicious—sunflower seeds and peanuts all mixed up in with some of the raisins and plums I’ve been drying. It’s a mixture that was as helpful for my pre-travel angst as for on-the-road nourishment once I was actually off to California.

It’s a hornpipe—Off to California—and a cheery one at that. Good thing, for I played it often and often in the days before I left. What better way to keep a reluctant traveler in a vaguely optimistic frame of mind as she tries to decide what on earth people wear out in the world—and how mended her clothes can be and still feel presentable.

Eventually I settled for comfort and familiarity, pried myself loose, went out the gate and got onto the road—

—where the mist-covered miles of Eastern Washington at dawn and the exquisite open expanses of Central Oregon were enticing enough to keep me going.

And sun rise behind Mount Shasta? Oh my goodness! What a thing to see out the window on day two as Oregon slid into Northern California.

And what a thing to be among those open, oak-covered hills!

Oak-covered, that is, until suddenly all was trees. Tall trees and cushy moss and dangling lichen and endless branches. So much. Exquisite and thick—enveloping and overwhelming all at once. (Remember that I’ve lived on the prairie for 40 years). On and on went the road, up and up and down and down and round and round—

—until—abruptly—the trees ended and I was in Fort Bragg, a lovely town perched on a cliff between those redwood-covered hills and the Pacific Ocean. Astonishingly, the air smelled of both.

Indeed, even as the talks began at Pacific Textile Arts,¹ the cool damp breeze wafting into the room somehow adding to the mystery and almost fairy tale quality of being there, at that moment, with this astonishing group of textile artists.

Happily there is no need for me to try to summarize or describe what people said since, thanks to living in the distant future, we have recordings of most of the actual speakers.² Plus I’d never be able to do them justice.

What I can do is sigh with wonder at the collective magic, blush with delight that I got to be in the thick of it, and revel in the variety of ideas and practices embodied by this small gathering of people who, having devoted most of their lives and creative energy to tapestry,³ continue to believe in exploring its possibility.

Truly, it was an affirmation of generosity—of the weavers themselves as well as of warp, weft, and the myriad materials that make up both. (Kathryn Pannepacker’s Listening Loom project truly rocked my world).⁴ It was a moment of text and textiles, of words and lineage, of tradition and innovation and curiosity—the thread if you will (and really how not cuz it is our metaphor and our material so we can use it if we want), that connects us all.

Back at Jackie’s where many of us stayed, the conversation continued: stories, memories, mind blowing ideas, and delightful company. Plus a campfire. Of course.

And even a few tunes.

Then it was over and I was headed home—overflowing and exhausted and longing to get back to work. This not only because I couldn’t help it, but also because—well how not to want to do my part to keep this yarnish conversation going? Also… Beryl! And Comics! (I often can’t draw while away from home).

Indeed, thoughI’m usually a pretty slow driver, all it took was some tailgate instant coffee, a few excellent podcasts⁵ and the surprise of some roadside milkweed in an Oregon ditch—

—to keep me all the way up at the speed limit for most of the way. Wahooo! Watch me zoom.

Nothing like seven stalks of yellow/brown bast and great drips of sticky latex on a favorite skirt to get a girl buzzing down the road.

Before I knew it, Beryl and the squirrels were reminding one another who is the boss of our yard, and Milkweed and I were continuing our own conversation. ⁶

And honestly, from then until now, that is about all—

—or almost all—

—we’ve wanted to do.

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1. Link to Pacific Textile Arts. Astonishing resource! Check it out.

2. This gathering was conceived by Jean Pierre Larochette and Yael Lurie to honor the talented and wondrous human, Jackie Wollenberg, for her myriad contributions to tapestry, textiles, Pacific Textile Arts, and all of us. You’ll hear more about Jackie in everyone’s own words in the linked videos of the the Saturday and Sunday Morning Talks from Tapestry by the Campfire . And as a bonus, if you scroll down through the videos (if you can stand to do so without stopping and watching them all), you can hear Jackie talk about her own work as well.

Unfortunately the Saturday afternoon talks were not recorded, so the words of Victoria Stone, Deborah Corsini , Pam Patrie and me will have to remain ephemeral. I’ve linked Deborah and Pam’s websites though (Victoria — you don’t have one!), so you can at least see some of their amazing work. As for me — well since I yack away at you here every week you probably get more than enough of that already.

3. Thirty years ago, almost to the day (September 1993), I attended a symposium in Vancouver BC, Canada called Making A Place for Tapestry, organized by the glorious Barbara Heller. I had only been weaving tapestry for three years at that point, so wandered around watching, listening, absorbing and marveling at the work and the camaraderie and the commitment and devotion of everyone there. I spoke to absolutely no one (too young and shy and in awe), but have never forgotten it. To then get to be among some of these same people, and to actually belong, was a thing indeed.

4. International exhibitions to commissions, personal work and a powerful loom-centric social activism— all in this little gathering. Astonishing indeed.

5. Here is a link to the Palouse Hills Weaver’s Guild 70th anniversary exhibition at the Dahmen Barn — the image for which features a detail of a tapestry of mine, one of three in the show. All the work in the show is for sale, so if you’re interested, feel free to contact them. Maybe they even ship things? So marvelous to continue the collective conversation here at home with theses exquisite weavers and their work. Really, who needs to go anywhere????

6. Somehow all my footnotes got mixed up, so this is supposed to be footnote 5 about the Weavers guild anniversary show, and number 5 about the fabulous podcasts I listened to. Except the podcast info that I wrote somehow vanished while I was editing! Eek. Well, here they are again:

1. Anne Merrow’s fantastic interview with Allan Brown of The Nettle Dress Film on The Long Thread Podcast. (Thank you endlessly Anne for asking him all those lovely technical bits about the yarn and weaving. So helpful, though of course now I just want to sit down and discuss the specifics of working with retted vs non-retted bast fiber ).

2. Another interview with Allan Brown and Dylan Howitt about The Nettle Dress film by Manda Scott on the Accidental Gods podcast

3. The brilliant Alice Kettle on The Material Matters Podcast