I continued my studio tour the other day by visiting my friend Leah Adams, a neighbor, fellow parent, and felter. Leah has her studio at Ballard Works, a building near the Ballard Locks that houses 19 artist studios and also Sev Shoon Arts Center. Leah originally rented a small studio with a tiny glass block window. She recently moved into a much bigger, light-filled studio with a whole wall of windows. Leah shares the space to make it more affordable and was very lucky to find a studio-mate who works in felt and is a good match. It’s so important when sharing space to find someone who has similar studio habits. I’m sure we all had those roommates in college who left their dishes in the sink.

Leah makes wall hangings, small sculptures, and beautiful nuno felted clothing. She’s also been experimenting with making faux “sheep skins,” felting raw wool to make fuzzy skins that leave the sheep very much alive. But much of her time is taken with the bread and butter of her work: felting kits and felted rocks which she sells in shops and at craft fairs. It’s challenging to transition from her production work to the experimental projects that she finds more creatively fulfilling. We talked about being open to process, not getting frustrated by the time it takes to develop new work, and the bias in the “art” world against people who have to make their living with their “craft.”

Even though felting lends itself to sculpture, wool seems like such a foreign medium to me. I just have no desire to work with it. But I appreciate it’s unique charms. While Leah and I talked she was busy turning shanks of raw wool into fluffy puff balls. These are only the first layer of a piece which will be less than a quarter of its original size.

I bought one of Leah’s scarves at our school auction last year. I love wearing it and always get compliments on it. It’s actually the only scarf I wear that I didn’t make.

nuno felted vest

small sculpture

big windows, high ceilings and space

Continuing my January of studio visits, I spent a lovely afternoon with Alicia Tormey last week. Alicia is an encaustic painter and has a studio at Inscape, the old INS building which has been turned into studios and now has 100 artists all working in the same building. Alicia showed me around her very tidy studio which was full to the brim with new art, materials, and inspiration. We also took a field trip around the building and visited a few other artist’s studios. Even though I love my cozy and convenient space, I sometimes get studio-envy of people who work in the big, old, buildings full of history and artist communities they house. I definitely am jealous lately of their high ceilings and vertical space, ie walls, something I don’t really have in my attic space.

Look for Alicia’s beautiful work at Grover/Thurston Gallery. She has just signed on with them after the sad closing of Pacini Lubel Gallery and will have new work in their January group show. I’m excited for her new adventures.

blocks of bees wax

Alicia in her studio

Lou Cabeen in the classroom

Today I had a lovely visit with Lou Cabeen, an artist and surface design professor at the University of Washington. Lou will be one of the presenters at the upcoming SDA Washington Symposium on March 3-4. She has such an interesting perspective, as both a fine artist and an academic. We talked and talked and talked about dye chemistry, the set up at the UW, and fiber in the art world. I think we could have gone on all day.

The excuse for our visit was for me to see the class set up for surface design in the art building on campus. I love my cozy little studio but I am definitely jealous of their space and facility. What I wouldn’t give for one of those long tables sometimes! And the exhaust hood! And that sink! It’s definitely to “dye” for.

the work tables

the long, long washout sink

the dye room!

the geometry of dried fennel flowers

Surprisingly, our “snow event” has been sticking around. It’s snowing like crazy right now and isn’t supposed to warm up until tomorrow. I guess that means the kids are getting a whole week off from school. Lucky them.

I took a walk to meet a new friend for coffee (Hi Wyly!) and get some groceries. Along the way I found a few photo opportunities. It’s so different shooting in the snow. The light is flat, diffused, and soft. The lack of contrast makes it difficult to get good shots. But then, without the snow, there wouldn’t be any.

a cascade of grass head icicles

Hammamaelis blooming under the snow

hydrangea

artichoke

blueberry leaves

a neighborhood cedar

our snow covered back yard

We don’t get much snow here in Seattle. Whenever it’s predicted the kids are glued to the windows, waiting for any sign of flakes. In the last two days we’ve been having a “significant snow event” as the weather men call it. School was cancelled before the first flake fell and everyone’s staying home. The kids spent the whole day outside, cramming all the snow fun into one day as they can, since it’s supposed to start raining again tomorrow.

I took a short walk in the neighborhood and snapped a few photos before returning to the warm indoors. I’ve been taking the time to get my dye book organized but mostly dinking around and doing a jigsaw puzzle. It’s nice to take some time off and recharge my batteries. School’s already cancelled tomorrow, too. By the time the roads clear I’ll probably be pacing the floor and more than ready to get back to the studio. For now, it’s time for surfing the web, sipping tea, and spending time with family.

a gradation of dark to light

This morning was sunny and cold. I was in a hurry as I started to load up my car but I had to stop and get out my camera. The delicate ice tracery of frost had changed what was a wet and mushy garden into a photo opportunity that wasn’t going to last long in the sunshine.

The crystalline structures on the top rail of my fence were like a frosty lining of fur and the creeping thyme became bunches of miniature white roses. My neighbor’s unraked leaves received a fresh coat of white paint before they melted back into a soggy mess; compost for next year’s growth.

Like compost, these images grab moments of time, sitting and fermenting in my mind until they are called on to bring forth nutrients for the next inspiration.

frost on the fence rail

and on the creeping thyme

I’m looking out at my cherry tree, bare of all but a few last wet leaves, as I sit here at the computer downloading photos. I had forgotten about my trip to Golden Gardens Park a few weeks ago on what was, most likely, the last nice day of Fall before the rains came. This grove of trees at the water’s edge has such a sense of place, the strong verticality of the closely set trunks contrasting with the openness of the water, sky, and mountains. They set off the brilliant color of the leaves on the bluff that sets this long strip of beach from the rest of the city. The long angled light of Fall highlighted the patterns and textures of the bark nicely for my camera.

I feel fortunate to live in a place so filled with natural beauty. I appreciate the change of the seasons here. The storms of Winter come early along with the dark. Our Northern location give us short days and long nights this time of year. It’s a time to cozy up inside, work intently at the studio, and find time to celebrate the holidays with friends. And time to look for inspiration through my photos from the warmer, sun-filled days of the year.

We’re having a beautiful Fall here in Seattle. Through some mysterious set of climate circumstances, we’re having much more vibrant Fall color than usual. We had a few days of sunshine and blue skies and then some gray and stormy days, each one setting off the colors in different ways. And the colors change from one day to the next it seems. This Japanese Maple in my garden went from deep red to brilliant yellow/orange over just a few days. And we’re only one blustery storm away from them all being on the ground.

We’re are doing a small remodel at our house. I say small but, really, is there such a thing when it comes to remodeling? Even though we’re not doing any of the work ourselves the project has expanded to fill all of my time. Between decisions about tile, paint swatches, and bathroom hardware I haven’t been spending much time at the studio.

But one thing I love about any remodel project on an old house is discovering what’s beneath the walls. Our house was built in 1906. These photos show the remnants of old lathe and plaster walls with layers of wallpaper just before they got covered up with smooth, new sheet rock. I love the unintentional abstract compositions and the way they show the layers of time. Each person putting their mark on the wall, making choices about the way they want to live in their home, just the way I’m doing now.