Eclipse prep, pinloom pieces and spring walk

Everyone's worried about people driving while viewing, using wrong glasses, forgetting they've got headlights (!). Township lawyers covering Plainsboro's finest.

 

Library-provided official viewing glasses, see the seal of approval. Or hippo of approval.

Verdict: nice, glad I had glasses, sun went to a tiny sliver, but it didn't get very dark. It lasted about half an hour. I took a picture of the only foliage around, and caught some tiny pale crescents, eclipse shadows. They're tiny, on top of leaf shadows, bottom right, and a few others, once you get your eye in 

It was a nice time, sitting on the deck, drinking tea and studying the sun now and then to see the progress. It was moving but not upsetting like the last time, when I was in a big crowd. 

This time, waving at neighbors all watching and doing things with pieces of card, was a friendly time. Happy to see the sun back after late afternoon clouds obscured some of the action.

Current reading on Kindle 

Fast read, set in the seventies onward, a friendship between teenage girls becoming life long. I don't know much more yet, but it strikes me as good beach (in my case, deck) reading.

Morning pinloom weaving yielded the much improved piece on the right. Seen l to r 

Blue piece, made on pins stuck in cardboard to see if I liked doing it, then first try on real pinloom, wobbly little effort, then ta-da, today's much improved version.  This has promise.

As you see, it's a learned skill. After you know the principle, your fingers have to learn the execution.

And I thought you'd like to see how it just lifts off the loom, no finishing required. Then you get busy warping again.

The morning walk yielded blossom 

And carpets of violets underfoot 

And I followed a tapping sound and found a Northern flicker busy excavating for a nest. You might catch her here. She matches the tree pretty well, so you might need to just take my word on it. Again.  

Now I know where to watch for nesting and maybe hatching. It's right above the hollow log where I find the best fungi.

A minute later she'd flown and I saw the mate, maybe coming to do his share 

Happy day, lovely sunshine here. Most of the time, that is.

Abakanowicz, weaving and puzzle answer

Today I found this in the MDK newsletter, text and photos Jeni Hankins, and if you're within reach of the Tate Modern, lucky you, you can see this retrospective of a great Polish artist.

I saw a great outdoor installation on long-term loan to the Princeton art museum, years ago, insisted all my drawing students go there, to experience abakans. It was a group of huge hollow fiber figures, unforgettable.

Here's some of what's on right now at the Tate Modern

Blogger's note: she couldn't get gallery representation and recognition in Poland in her earlier years because the art establishment, men, claimed that fiber wasn't art.  She's lived to disprove their claim. And we don't know their names. She's world famous.

Back home, the bits of weaving waste fiber left by the birds act like a mini abakan, to honor her.

And the weaving, after a few false starts, is beginning to get there. 

The improvised belt is quite comfortable, not a strain. Learning is happening.

Out walking today, lovely scents everywhere, the Korean spice bush on my patio, other wild blossom trees, smelling of nuts and honey.

This kind of experience is so vital for making anything, stocking up your mind with images and scents to add to your store of material to draw on  

I came across Corita Kent's art studio rules from her college teaching days, thought you might like to see 

And here, since it seems to be an observation day, take a look. Imagine yourself to be the size of an ant looking at these huge structures.

This was a favorite exercise by my mentor in art, Maggi Johnson. It resets your perception.

And I'm sure you guessed the Haggard Hawks puzzle answer, since we're doing art thinking today:

PORTFOLIO

Happy day everyone, lovely here, warm, sunshine,  enjoy whatever your day brings. Even on really hard days there's a tiny bit of good stuff.

 

Not bread and roses but close

Walk today, finding blossoms everywhere. And a shouted chat with a neighbor I haven't seen in ages.

Then home, not in the mood to bake regular bread, also low in flour, so I made yet another version of cornbread. This one, judging from the scrap of printed recipe on cardboard in my binder, must have come from a box of cornmeal. One of those bland test kitchen recipes.

This one wanted skim milk, but I have whole, so I used that, and vegetable oil, so I thought okay, we'll see, and egg whites.

Now it just happened that I had egg whites frozen from back when I made lemon curd using yolks, so I broke the block of four, used half, put the rest back.

Verdict: pale in color, because of no egg yolk nor butter, firm texture, a bit bready. Okay but not a winner. Slice with butter ready to spread. It needs butter.

Interrupted by a neighbor wanting to march into the house to visit with her dog, force of habit, until I said sorry, no one comes in right now.  So we had another shouted conversation, with her talking through a slightly open storm door and me well back in the living room. Her husband's working from home, and I think she needed a break from him.

It's heavy being alone at this time, but I don't have to cope with anyone unless I make contact, so there's that! I notice in the two conversations I had today, my voice is rusty with disuse. I'll do a bit of singing during my music time today.