cloth.paper.string

brrrrr....

When this the scene on the inside of my bathroom window (yes, there's a moisture issue in this old house...) and wind chill advisories warn of near immediate frostbite on any exposed parts of those who venture outside,  I can't help but wish I had made myself one of these, or knit myself a pair of those.  Luckily I can easily whip up the hot version of this and dream of the days when she will visit my garden (mind you, this is still months away).   What is warming you these mid-winter days?

three by

I've been a big fan of Six One Way since Stefani and Eren started chronicling the weeks with three photos, each one telling a small piece of the story of life as the mama of three young boys.  Their simple yet stunning photos speak for themselves, both separately and together. 

I was thrilled to see that they've invited others to play along in sharing a week in the life of the family in the form of a photo triptych.  I was looking for a photo-making spark and I think this might be just the thing that prompts me to point my camera around my house, despite the lack of good natural light this time of year.

That said, I've found the mosaic maker to be a bit addicting.  I couldn't stop with the one for Six One Way tonight, but instead had to piece together two more crazy quilts of images from the weekend. 

Between liquid and solid on the calm grey lake.  Special thanks to Nana and AJ for the babe-sitting that allowed for the slow and carefree meander along the beach with my sweet.

At the start of the John Beargrease sled dog marathon - the 400 mile race honoring the man who delivered mail along Lake Superior's North Shore by dog sled in the early 1900s.  Once again, I'm amazed by the outdoor happenings in my hometown.  And, I'm so grateful for the recent gift from E -- Jan Brett's new book featuring Aloo-ki, a Inuit musher.  My little one was thrilled to have a chance to ride, chattering about Aloo-ki and the huskies all along the kid's track.

blues: inside and out

Outside, steam rises off the deep blue lake.  Heat is all relative when the air temperature is -18 degrees F.  Needless to say I didn't stay outside for long.

Inside, the blue cable sweater is finished.  For the second time.  I ended up getting help at the local knitting shop, thanks in part to all of the encouraging comments and emails.  Picking up stitches isn't that scary after all.  Even if there are over thirty to pick up...

the inspiration...

There's so much of it around me these days.

The almost-frozen but always changing lake and those resilient birds that must know that the days of floating are few.

My inspiration wires.  They have finally made their way onto the wall upstairs.  I first saw one years and years ago in Pure Style Living and was immediately taken by the idea.  Since then I've seen them popping up all over.   My new favorite spot to see that which inspires others and how they bring it into their spaces is the inspiration board flickr group.  Definitely worth a visit.

That special embroidered piece from Marnie, now framed thanks to Ikea and a little creative mounting (colored canson paper, a few stitches in the corners).  I'm certain it's not archival in any way shape or form, but it works.  I'm so pleased with having a little handmade inspiration next to my sewing table.

And the gocco swap -- I'm amazed by the turnout.  Simply blown away.  Check out the list of participants!  And in the coming weeks stop by to the swap's flickr group to see the gocco'ed goodness that is being shared.

reminders from a sunday

While winter may feel eternal, it will pass and bring forth spring. 

Blueness actually still exists behind those persistent clouds. 

And most importantly, there is great warmth in celebrating loved ones, and doing so in person.   And, if you can get away with it, it's always best to have the cake before the meal.

heart-felt and handmade

When I was wee my parents ran an antique store that sold, in addition to farmhouse finds, the creations of a woman named Chicky.  I don't ever recall meeting this woman, but I knew she lived behind the stable on the slow and windy road to town.  Thinking back to the small community we lived in, I must have seen her with regularity, but I can't conjure up her face.  I'm certain it's because, for me, the image of her as a hen sitting on her eggs with a needle and thread, stitching away is the one that is rooted deepest.  Chicky made what folks today would call softies.

One year - it must have been for Christmas -- my sister and I both received our very own stuffed dolls made my Chicky.  These mice quickly became our mousies.  We have since both loved these little velveteen dolls literally to pieces.  My mousie is now blind, without whiskers, has a tattered ear and hand and is tail-less.  Her knickers, bonnet, apron with the cross-stitched 'S' on the pocket, as well as the little hankie that went in said pocket are long gone.  My sister's mousie still has a tail, but otherwise wears the time and the love much the same. 

These stuffed mice mean much to me and to my sister (pictured above with her shawled mousie sometime in the late 70s).  They also mean much to my mom, who gave us these handmade and thought-filled gifts, all while passing on an appreciation for that which is well crafted, that which is unique. I know this to be true as often in my hopes to impart similar appreciations on my daughter, I find myself thinking of my mom and my childhood.  I also know this to be true because of something my mom - now nana - made for her grand-daughter last year:  her very own mousie.

Chicky's days of sewing have passed, so my mom took it upon herself to figure out how to make one on her own.  My sister's mousie was borrowed and studied.  Fabrics were carefully selected.  Countless hours were put into assembling and sewing clothing for this doll.  My mom isn't a seamstress, and I'm not sure that she's ever made a three-dimensional sewn object before this adventure, but that didn't stop her.  These types of details never do, as she's always jumping in and figuring out, and also always seems to be wildly successful in these endeavors.  Of course, the mousie is amazing. 

The new mousie has become fast friends with my floppy-necked, dog-nibbled mousie.  Both are truly loved by the little one.  She likes to point out and kiss all of the old mousie's owies.  And she likes to take the clothes on and off the new mousie and admire her belly -- where there's a special embroidered message from nana.  The new mousie and everything about her story make her one of the most heartfelt gifts that we have been graced with.

I've thought about sharing the story of the mice since I started cloth.paper.string.  Somehow it is fitting that here on the 365th day of entering the world of blogging, the story finally comes together. 

I want to give a big thanks to each of you who have stopped by, looked at my pictures, read my words, felt the urge to leave a comment.  You are all so appreciated.  I'm really looking forward to seeing what this next year's inspiration brings, the heart-felt and handmade that it becomes and the sharing of it with you here.

blown away

As I've been carefully deconstructing a vintage wool bias-cut skirt that will never fit me, I've had Nikki McClure and her x-acto knife on my mind.  I'm continually blown away by her images, as I am by this fantastic printed gabardine which resembles her work so.

After holding on to this skirt for ages and ages, I've finally found a project that is calling its name.  But, more on this later.  I'm afraid if I share too much about my plans I'll jinx myself and won't be able to squeeze enough yardage from the pretty pie-shaped panels.

And, so many thanks for all of the suggestions and kind words about the learning sweater.  I'm going to give fixing it a go.  Will keep you posted.

knitting lessons

A little blue sweater will not stop teaching me lessons.  The first was how simple a cable is to make, and how silly I was to have feared them for so long. 

The second was that simple patterns can easily be knit in the round, but it's much better to knit sleeves from the top down rather than the bottom up -- this should have been obvious, since I was knitting in the round to avoid seams, after all.  And, I tried it both ways.  On both sleeves.

The latest lesson is that there's something wrong with my three-needle shoulder bind-off.  Seriously wrong.  Washable merino is good provided the garment is actually pieced together properly.  The little one wore the sweater just once before the washing machine so callously pointed out my error.

I'm tempted to give it to the cat at this point.  The sweater just fits my growing girl, but while she wore it she rubbed her belly and repeated mama and y-aaah-n and nit-nit-nit with such a sweet mix of pride and tenderness, that I really want to fix it for her.

And I think there are more lessons in this little blue turtle.  Like, how to pick-up stitches, and lots of them.  And if it's even possible to fix a completed sweater with a large portion of the back shoulder -- between the neck and the sleeve -- unraveled.  What do you think?  Should I bring it to the nearest knitting clinic for some hands-on help or is the sweater now teaching me about letting go?

sharing the love: mid-winter gocco swap

It seems that there's a bit of the gocco bug going around.  The symptoms I've observed run something like this:  discovering the wonder of the simple japanese screenprinter, wanting one's own device, thinking that they're no longer in production and than they can't be had, realizing that one can actually have one (found used or bought new), overcoming one's fear of messing up a screen or wasting bulbs, and then the falling in love.  Complete love.

I've been thinking lately that I want to share the gocco love.  And I'm wanting to experience a bit of the love affair others are having with their goccos.  And, I have a hunch that others too are looking to have and to hold more gocco inspiration (or to have that one thing that pushes them to finally get that gocco they've been dreaming about, or to use the one they recently received).  So, I'm proposing a mid-winter gocco swap. 

Here's the skinny:
Create a mid-winter-themed image (or, if my winter is your summer, an image that you're excited about sharing), print a run for the swap (it could be a single print, a small set of notecards, bookplates, stamps, stickers, a notepad, a fabric printed something-or-other, really anything gocco-ed that suits your fancy), send one of each of your creations out to each of your swapmates (you'll have 10-12 folks you'll be swapping with), receive a gocco-ed creation from each of your swapmates.   

The swap is open to anyone, anywhere with a blog and/or flickr account. 

The sign-up deadline is January 15th.  Sign up by sending me an email at clothpaperstring AT gmail DOT com with the subject Gocco Swap - be sure to include your name, mailing address and a link to your blog and/or Flickr account.   I'll send out your list of swapmates later that week (again, you'll have 10-12 who you'll be committing to sending your gocco-ed bits out to).

Mail your gocco'd bits to swapmates on or before February 11th.  Don't forget to take photos of your creations and post them to the mid-winter gocco swap flickr group.

Feel free to spread the word (and the love).  Cut and paste the HTML in the box to add a button to your blog or sidebar:   

<a href="http://clothpaperstring.typepad.com/clothpaperstring/2008/01/sharing-the-lov.html"><img src="http://clothpaperstring.typepad.com/clothpaperstring/goccoswap.jpg" border="0"/></a>

Happy gocco-ing!

Update:  The swap is now closed, with 49 gocco'ers on board!  See who's participating here.  And, check the swap's flickr group in the coming weeks to see the gocco goodness shared.  Participants have received a list of their swapmates -- if you signed up and haven't received the email, please let me know.  So many thanks to all for such enthusiasm for the swap! 

mosaic math

Wind + Snow + Bark
as captured by
Girl + Snowshoes + Camera.