The currents of life swept me away the past months.
But a wonderful and unfamiliar long vacation in Brittany helped me find my way back to the surface again.
We saw the Blood Moon,
which is rather an event in an area with no light pollution. The nights are so dark that you can actually see the stars and the Milky Way. I mean, the whole sky is full of stars and constellations. Would I live there, I'd get a telescope. I sometimes just stood in the yard, getting cramps in my neck from staring at the sky.
With a beach crazy dog you'll always get the opportunity to see the ocean.
This is, by the way, the same dog who stops under tree canopies and under benches when it begins to drizzle. Who drinks like a giraffe to prevent accidental splashes of water on his face. And who wants me to clean his feet when they get muddy. Who doesn't run when the ground is wet because of the mud that splashes against his tummy fur. I could go on and on with examples of why this is a totally different dog at the beach than at home. He is so crazy getting to the beach that I have to keep him on a rather tight leash when we walk along the cliffs. Just to prevent him from plunging 30 feet or more into the depth. So we went to the beach every morning. Just to see him run through the sand and the waves, playing with kelp, simply being the happiest dog on the world.
Which provided me with ample oportunities to study sand textures.
I have dozens of pictures like these. They all reminded me of shibori resist dyeing.
One reason for my silence over the past months was that I didn't have access to my studio. Everything I wanted and needed to do I had to do from my living room. Which is rather large but still supposedly the place with our dining table (dining at the table was not really possible while I was teaching), our books and DVD collection and the sofa. In short, the place away from the workplace, where you might want to relax and entertain friends and guests. Not the place with a large loom, a sewing machine (which I couldn't use anyway), a spinning wheel, all my books and spindles and stuff and a table where I cut fabric, dye and do everything else on.
Circumstances prevented me from getting into my studio, so a lot of projects had ample time being mulled in my head but not seing the light of reality. A collection of shibori and katazome scarves is one of those projects.
Just a few days before we left for Brittany, I actually got my studio back. Now I have to renovate it a bit and hopefully by December I will be able to move back in. With my looms and my sewing and dyeing stuff and everything. We'll get our space in our living room back and I will have my space again dedicated only to my work.
You can imagine, the horizon of my life river journey suddenly looks much nicer.
The past months were more like rapids between high and dark cliffs where no light reached the bottom of the canyon. And sometimes I felt like drowning and never being able to breathe and see light again. But as long as life goes on, there is breath and light. Sometimes just around the corner of the next cliff.