But I'm less concerned about hanging my bananas, frankly, and more interested in the form of knots. For Ashley, each knot has a specific function and certain qualities that define it. There is a purpose, a puzzle, and above all, a correct form. 

I find the rightness or wrongness of knots so appealing. I love puzzles, clarity, categorization, well-defined rules. I find the ambiguity and freedom in art confounding and intimidating. The boundaries of knots give me a safe place to play. 

(And, my secret is this: in art, almost everything is subjective. But in this case, while you may not LIKE my banana knot, I can feel confident in knowing it is technically the correct form. This is, I've found, my gateway to confidence in the 'art world.')

Thus, the giant banana knot, made with reed, a few feet wide, completely unreasonable. The form is correct, though the function is not - it would certainly not hold a bunch of bananas. 

I'm so thrilled that Banana Knot #361 hangs at the Springfield Art Association in Springfield, IL, in September 2023 as part of From Fiber, a group show juried by the most wonderful and talented fiber artist and teacher Ann B. Coddington. I learned through the digital grapevine that it was also given an Honorable Mention - a "major award," if you ask me. 

It will be up for the month of September if anyone is passing through Springfield! ​

Last November, I posted on Instagram about my "go bag," which is a description I'd heard in movies, I suppose, either in spy scenarios or full-term pregnancies when you gotta be ready to run out the door with essentials in-hand. I created a little "go bag" for myself when Rob's retina detached. On a Sunday evening as we were getting ready for bed, he came into the bedroom and quietly suggested that he may drive himself to the hospital, you know, because maybe something was seriously wrong with his eye? What a pitiful and ridiculous suggestion. Of course I dragged myself out of bed and drove the him, with his broken eye, to the ER. 

Turns out he was entirely correct. Although he was quickly admitted, it took hours of tests and I don't know how many interns and residents to verify that his retina had indeed become detached and needed to be re-attached ASAP. I think they determined this around 3AM. (There was a test that I don't think Rob would recommend: from my vantage point, it looked like the doctors were using tiny ice cream scoops to, well, scoop underneath his entire eyeball, all the way around it, looking for any other damage or injury. Apparently this procedure was painful.)

What does this have to do with weaving or fiber art? Not much, other than to say it can be an excellent idea to have small projects ready to go at any time. You never know when you might be spending lots and lots and lots of time in the hospital or doctor's waiting room. We were sent home around 3AM in order to "get some sleep" before we were to come back around 5AM for the emergency surgery. This is when I quickly gathered some projects to keep my hands and mind occupied.

Pictured below is my little pouch from November, including some small twining projects which are extremely portable. Lots of people use plastic Ziploc-style bags, and I use those too, but I love Topo Designs pouches. They come in a bunch of different sizes and shapes -- I even use one as my wallet/purse. This one holds quite a few small tools easily, too. 

Rob's retina detached again in November (surgery #2), and he had cornea surgery a couple months ago (#3). This week is surgery #4 to repair the membrane in his eye, and we hope this is the last. Time to prepare another little "go bag" of small and easy projects.

It seems silly that I still don't have the words to best describe my experience at Penland School of Craft in late May/early June. It was, after all, not even one week spent 'on the mountain' in North Carolina. How could such a small amount of time be so profound?

The people. The reason I went was because of Sarita Westrup, the teacher of my sculptural basketry workshop. When she was on the roster back in January, I knew I wanted to attend. I've admired Sarita's work from afar for a long time, but Sarita *in person* is such a gift. She is a ray of sunshine, as generous with her teaching as with her laughter and serious about her art and the story it tells. And her teaching assistant, SR LeJeune (Sarah Rose), was another gift in the studio - a certified basket genius, but clearly a genius beyond baskets. Between the two of them, our studio was led with heart, warmth, support and kindness and it was just lovely. 

Kindness attracts kindness, and laughter attracts laughter. The 12 of us who found our way to the workshop were equally eager to learn and make -- who could ask for a better cohort in this kind of intense learning experience? It felt like we so enjoyed just being there that we could laugh when things weren't working the way we'd hoped, celebrate others' successes, easily ask for help. We worked in the studio from early in the morning to very late at night, and in that time you can learn a lot about the people you're surrounded with. Small talk fades away fast and deeper sharing can take place. 

When I got back home, I felt incredibly sad. Surprisingly sad. It hit me hard that I wouldn't be joining this crew to make more the next week. It felt like we had so much more to do and say and enjoy with each other. We'd just gotten started. That's the thing - we learned so much in such a short period of time, and then we had to take it away for our own personal exploration. I thought I liked working alone, but it can get awfully quiet.

There's so much more to say about the entire experience. TBD, maybe more to come about the basket-making, the food and dorm-living (a central theme to the Penland experience), and so much more that seems to make everyone light up when you mention Penland.

I can’t wait to see what everyone in our crew does next - I’m cheering for team baskets! 

 ​Since the new year, I've been a bit of a creative rut. Far fewer knots, not much weaving, not much painting. (I had to hit "pause" for some freelance production work during that chunk of that time which was challenging to bounce back from, but yes. Rut. Creative dry spell.) 

What's starting to pull me out is revisiting the practice of random weave, which I learned last fall (was it fall?) from fiber artist Ann Coddington in a weekend workshop at Praxis Fiber Workshop in Cleveland. (When I saw that Ann was teaching a two-day workshop not-so-far away from me, I was so thrilled. It was an incredible opportunity to learn from an artist whose work I've admired from afar! And to the people of the Cleveland area: Praxis is a gift. A gift. That is all.)

Anyway, back to today. Earlier this year, I was lucky enough to be part of a fiber/textile "stuff swap" at a Fiber Club* gathering in Detroit and I wound up with a BIG stash of someone's unwanted half-round reed. What a GIFT. It was someone else's trash but it was MY TREASURE. I couldn't believe no one else wanted it! I could not believe my luck. (I was also quite pleased that everything I brought to swap had been quickly absorbed into the crowd - everything was taken for various and sundry other projects. What a wonderful trade!)

I can be so precious with materials. I never want to waste the good stuff on play or experimentation. I suppose this is a bit of a perfectionist streak in me (is that the right word? I don't think of myself as a perfectionist) - if I use new materials, or costly materials, on a new project or idea and it doesn't turn out *just right*, I will feel not only feel a failure, I will feel wasteful and regretful. So having a big pile of free-to-me, very-usable-but-not-perfect reed was magnificent. Yes. YES! 

I could allow myself to practice. Practice and PLAY! This is something I never allow myself to do - it can feel risky, potentially wasteful. Nevermind the potential wins of learning, going somewhere creatively, taking the next step.

Now I just wanted to play and start to explore, little by little. Baby steps. First, a small bean, then a bigger bean. Then a GIANT bean. ANOTHER bean. Not feeling guilty bean. I even - gasp! - took apart a bean and started over bean! More to come beans. Joyful beans. Mathematical beans. [Thinking about life beans because it's all just a goddamn hill of beans.] How many beans is too many beans? I'm willing to find out! 

I don't really "do" holidays. But I have a soft spot for little love mementos, so I consider some of my pieces tiny Valentines. Here are a couple.

This tiny weaving is made with embroidery thread -- reds, pinks, fuchsias, golds. I made it a year or two ago and suppose it was ahead of its time. It's right on track for 2023's color of the year, Viva Magenta. It lives on Rob's bedside table. 

My hand-painted Double Coin Knot is one of my favorites. Its form is so pleasing. The knot is beautifully woven and sturdy, but not overly complicated. One late night, I was playing with watercolors and had a pile of knots within reach. In that harebrained moment, I grabbed this knot and started painting it, section by section. The colors were wet and vibrant. As it dried, the pinks, reds, and fuchsias melted together. I enjoyed this so much, I decided to further experiment with painting with dyes. "Heart in a Box" is available for sale, but I may just decide to keep it as a love note to myself. 

I'm so grateful Sarah at Makers United contacted me about applying for the Makers United Workshop because I really wouldn't have applied otherwise. It took that nudge of encouragement. 

I applied, a process that involved submitting photos of my work, information about my website and social media account(s), and information about my business. A few days later, I received an invitation to join the workshop, a 2-day immersive experience that promised to help me build a strong brand identity and provide me with guidance around product photography, along with some sample photos.

Now, I'm still working on all the things I learned. In fact, so much of what I got out of the experience isn't actionable. It's emotional. While I've done little things we were instructed to do, like organizing my Instagram "highlights," the most meaningful and powerful result of participating in this small workshop was making connections and becoming empowered. 

In mid-May, I received an email from Sarah, a community engagement associate at Makers United, a Nest initiative targeted at developing and supporting artisans in several communities in the United States. I'd participated in several Nest workshops in previous years and have gained so much insight and motivation from them.

Not too long ago, they partnered with the French luxury brand Hermès, which has invested an incredible amount of time into the Makers United programs. Last year, Hermès branding and communications executives lent their time on Zoom workshops to coach artisans in Detroit about website branding, brand storytelling and so much more. They talked a lot about how Hermès does things, but knowing that we -- Detroit-area artists and craftspeople -- likely don't have the same types of resources, they also offered real, attainable solutions and suggestions. (I still have my scribbled list and am working on implementation!)

I recall feeling so full after that Zoom workshop, and lucky that the Hermès team would take so much time out of their important schedules to spend that time not only talking, but listening, to us. When I spoke about my weaving work, Peter (a VP of Hermès who has led this initiative), mentioned having met Sheila Hicks, a sort of 'godmother' of fiber arts. In a flick, he was able to pick up my interests and we shared a moment of awe of Hicks' work. 

I guess they found value in that call, too. This year, the Makers United and Hermès teams got more ambitious and decided they wanted to bring people together in an intimate workshop in person. 

Before I get much further, you may be wondering, why would Hermès spend its energy doing something like this? Here's my take and understanding. As a brand, it has a long-held commitment to the highest quality of hand-craftsmanship. No, the artisans in the Detroit workshop are not going to become Hermès saddle makers one day. Essentially, the more Hermès can do to cultivate interest and value at all levels in quality, hand-crafted work, the better we can all do. We all rise. 

So, I got an email inviting me to apply to participate. It would be free. It would be a small group. It would be two full days at College for Creative Studies. It would include renowned designer Tracy Reese (omg) and a handful of workshop leaders. It would even include a product photo shoot session.

And I hesitated. I really, really did. I was committed to participate in the Leon & Lulu Michigan Made Market the day immediately following the workshop and it felt like too much of a commitment. (I know, I used to work full time and travel often - and suddenly three days away from home felt like too much of a commitment?)
​
The workshop sounded like it would be an awful lot about more branding. Plus, a product photo shoot? I started to question my work. I don't produce products. Do I? And I recalled from one of the Zoom sessions with Hermès -- we had breakout sessions in which we had to deliver that 60-second "pitch" to describe our business/mission/brand. Would we have more breakout sessions? Would we have to work in groups? Would I have to speak? My anxiety set in before I even applied. 

{To Be Continued.}

Leon & Lulu's Michigan Made Market was such a great experience. First, it's not every day that I get to set up my work in a 'living room' environment. It was just the right cozy vibe and setting. And they have the best, most helpful team. That place runs like a very, very well-oiled machine. It was impressive to watch them work before the store opened.

When I was ready to hang some pieces on the wall, a few of their staff came to take some hanging objects off the wall, found a drill and screws for me, and gave me permission to climb on the couch in my bare feet and get to work. The video above shows a little bit of that. 

I haven't participated in many markets, so this was a good opportunity to get more feedback from potential customers. Just watching to see if they looked at my work, what they looked at, and listening to them as they passed by can be useful information. Yes, even if two ladies walked by and one said to the other, "You can totally make that," it's useful in some way. (Especially when the other lady responded, "No, I can't. I don't know how to weave." Thank you, second lady, for appreciating that some degree of skill has gone into this.)

On the home page of my website, it says "please touch." And I do mean that. My work is intentionally tactile. The sensory quality of it is part of its value, almost therapeutic. That said, it still fascinates me when people touch everything, without hesitation. I suppose there is some tacit permission given we are in a retail environment. Customers can pick up, try on, and carry around whatever they may be interested in. Still, it's just interesting to watch people reach out and dig their fingers right into a fluffy weaving. 

As usual, the most curious pieces were the "Squishy Vases," a series of big crocheted vessels made with thick hand-felted wool yarn. People understand the wall hangings - they hang on the wall. But the sculptural pieces, even though they are sitting on a table, seem to present a mystery. What are they and what do you do with them? Oftentimes, my answer is not sufficient. Oh, well.

I'm grateful to the wonderful setting and day at Leon & Lulu, and thankful to the owners and team for making it an easy and worthwhile experience.

Sunday, June 12, I’ll be on hand with my latest woven and knotted work at Leon & Lulu in Clawson, Michigan. 

I’ll have new hand-woven wall hangings in a range of sizes - from itsy bitsy to statement pieces. And I’ll have new pieces in shadow boxes you can hang on the wall or place on a shelf. (A few in-progress sneak peeks are below.) 

There will be dozens of makers in the always fun atmosphere of Leon & Lulu - if you’re local or in town, bring a friend! 
​
Sunday June 12 - 11AM-5PM
Leon & Lulu
96 West 14 Mile Road
Clawson, MI 48017

P.S. All new items will go live on my website shortly after the market. It’s been a while since it’s been updated so I’ll let you know when they’re up! (I think the kids call that a “drop”?) 
I’ll be previewing more pieces on social media, so if you see something you’re interested in but aren’t able to make it to the market, give me a shout!