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I have no control over the stupidity of others. I sure as hell have no control over the biological whammy I have been going through this week. I do, however, have the power to hit "Delete." Which is not quite the same as having control over my own stupidity, but will have to do. So I have.
I created a bibliography of my Japanese library this weekend. It seemed like a good idea at the time and eminently safer than attempting to sew on a commission while feeling unwell. It's big. It might actually be of use to someone some day. I petted a lot of books. Almost none of them are worthless, though some of them fall into the vintage curiosity category - like the Japanese Tourism pamphlets from the 1930's.
I decided I needed to get out of the house for a bit this morning. A whim took me to Berkeley. I wanted to go to the Potter's Guild and see if I was sufficiently tempted to buy one of Danny Dastrup's gorgeous tea bowls. They were closed. However, the Berkeley Pottery Studio was open. I ended up buying a tea bowl I cannot use at SCA events by Barbara Llewellyn - earthy red-orange inside, grey glaze on the outside with an English translation of a poem by Otagaki Rengetsu traced faintly into the clay:
Evening Plum Blossoms.
As the night advances
The fragrance of the blossoms
Perfumes both the sleeves
Of my black robe
And the recesses of my heart.
(I needed this, I really, really needed it this week. The ol' recesses have not been harmonious for some time.)
Itsuko Zenitani checked me out when I paid for it. ! I LOVE her work. I've bought it as gifts in the past and I have two pieces in her gorgeous celadon striated glaze. I drink out of the mug daily.
I was relieved to see that Ethnic Arts has not tanked like nearly every other shop in that strip. They get some gorgeous African and Asian textiles in there and the folks who run it are really nice. I oohed over various fascinating pieces and succumbed to the lure of shibori by purchasing some scrap kimono fabrics for a buck or so apiece. Yes, a part of me cringed at the thought of these things having been cut up - until I picked up a piece of pale blue silk that clearly had been damaged by a dye run. Like most things, textiles are impermanent. Recycling old garment scraps into everything from wrapping clothes to zori straps is a fine old Japanese tradition and I think the pieces I picked out may be nice for pouches or something.
I created a bibliography of my Japanese library this weekend. It seemed like a good idea at the time and eminently safer than attempting to sew on a commission while feeling unwell. It's big. It might actually be of use to someone some day. I petted a lot of books. Almost none of them are worthless, though some of them fall into the vintage curiosity category - like the Japanese Tourism pamphlets from the 1930's.
I decided I needed to get out of the house for a bit this morning. A whim took me to Berkeley. I wanted to go to the Potter's Guild and see if I was sufficiently tempted to buy one of Danny Dastrup's gorgeous tea bowls. They were closed. However, the Berkeley Pottery Studio was open. I ended up buying a tea bowl I cannot use at SCA events by Barbara Llewellyn - earthy red-orange inside, grey glaze on the outside with an English translation of a poem by Otagaki Rengetsu traced faintly into the clay:
Evening Plum Blossoms.
As the night advances
The fragrance of the blossoms
Perfumes both the sleeves
Of my black robe
And the recesses of my heart.
(I needed this, I really, really needed it this week. The ol' recesses have not been harmonious for some time.)
Itsuko Zenitani checked me out when I paid for it. ! I LOVE her work. I've bought it as gifts in the past and I have two pieces in her gorgeous celadon striated glaze. I drink out of the mug daily.
I was relieved to see that Ethnic Arts has not tanked like nearly every other shop in that strip. They get some gorgeous African and Asian textiles in there and the folks who run it are really nice. I oohed over various fascinating pieces and succumbed to the lure of shibori by purchasing some scrap kimono fabrics for a buck or so apiece. Yes, a part of me cringed at the thought of these things having been cut up - until I picked up a piece of pale blue silk that clearly had been damaged by a dye run. Like most things, textiles are impermanent. Recycling old garment scraps into everything from wrapping clothes to zori straps is a fine old Japanese tradition and I think the pieces I picked out may be nice for pouches or something.
