nichepoetryandprose

Now, as I am finishing my manuscript of poetry on local foods, I am aware of the change this means for me.  I know there will be a new project but I am not yet certain what it will be.  I have many things to choose from… perhaps I’ll begin a new series of poems… perhaps I’ll write some non-fiction on an environmental theme… perhaps I’ll finish some of the paintings I have begun.

Although I like best to write, I find creative activities substitute for one another.  For example, when I am not writing for an extended period of time, I am often embedded in some other creative work such as painting or sewing.  Now, as I finish my manuscript, I have begun to weave on my loom.  It gives me thinking time as I approach the end of my writing project, to work through the final steps in my mind.  It also creates some certainty for me and provides a transition to my next project.

To me, weaving exemplifies the lure of creative endeavor.  The producing requires knowledge and skill, and builds confidence.  The process is relaxing and time is made available for thought and concentration.  The threads and fabrics are luxurious to touch and the colors are bright and joyful.  When I am finished a project, I am so proud of the resulting textile, I want to show the world.

My loom is a simple floor loom, 24 inches wide.  I bought it at a country auction, about 15 years ago.  My sister and I were among the stragglers at the auction, trying to outlast a heavy rain.  In the corner, we saw a bundle of varnished wood and some metal parts.  “I think that’s a loom,” whispered my savvy sister.  When the item came up for bid, there were few left in the audience, and no one knew just what ‘it’ was.  I can’t remember what I paid for it, but I know it was a bargain.

My loom and I have not been steady company.  It takes forever to install the warp (I began to install my current warp in May!), and weaving is hard on my back.  But the fabrics we have made together, my loom and I, are beautiful and comfortable and good for the soul.

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yellow line

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the road is fabric

weave of asphalt

ditch and yellow line

warp of guard rail

fence and heddle

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trees in plantations

lines on the hayfield

hip and curve of the earth

weft as she turns in her sleep

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shuttle, piloted

through landscape

and watershed

textile in folds

texture the yearn of the loom

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faults in the granite

potholes in pavement

rifts in the fabric

where weavers might falter

revisit the work

of earlier times

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learn the lessons

taught by the loom –

choose the weft wisely

balance the color, the texture

maintain the tension

fix mistakes as you go

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when your back hurts,

rest

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listen to the whisper

of weave

of yellow line

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Copyright  Jane Tims  2012