restingmotion

Unpacking The Colors of Dreams

I am finally unpacking fabric.  Picking up each piece and putting it away certain aspects of an awakening.  Each piece, be it humble or more exotic, seems so perfect.  Dreams flow around me like whisps.  Happiness envelops me.

 

I do believe I have the most beautiful fabric collection in the world.  Of course this opinion is highly subjective.  I am certain that ever collector feels their collection is the most beautiful, and rightly so.

 These photos are not particularly representative, of colors yes, but of the entire collection not so much.  Sublte gradations in color of flat weave basic fabrics don't photograph well, at least not in the still-darkish light of my studio with my photographic skills.  But these are fabric pieces, the stuff of dreams.

 

In the past few months I have dreamt of my fabric.  I have thought about how I would sort it and organize it and how it would look on the shelves.  As I imagined my wall of fabric I quickly realized that in my dreams I saw the fabric sorted by color, and that in fact color is more a more important factor for me when I am looking for a fabric than fiber content, weave or weight.  I did have my fabric sorted by type of fabric once, following some directive that this was the most efficient path.  But any system is only as efficient as the people who use it.  And I never look for a particular fabric by its weave or weight.  Color always comes first in my mind.  Even when I am imagining a dress, I am not imagining a wool crepe dress or a silk dress, although those features may be part of general plan, in that I may imagine a blue crepe dress or a pair of pants out of gray wool suiting.  It is the color that comes first, not the fabric, with blue and gray being the critical points.  I can adapt the execution of my vision to suit the requirements of fabric more easily than I can change my mind about color.

 

And so I am sorting  by color as it is the color I remember when I am looking for a particular fabric.  I have a pretty good memory for color and have, on more occasions than I can count, seen a fabric and known instantly that it was a perfect match for something I had waiting on the shelf at home. In fact my "memory-matching" ability is often more on-point than my ability to match something in the poor artificial lighting found in many fabric stores.  Each shelf has its own unique range of shades but I am not sorting the fabric in any particular order on each shelf.  There is not enough time in the heavens for me to fool with that.  It is not like any one piece is going to be more than a few feet away from any other piece.

 

And of course this too is good.  Because I have been known to say I want a green dress, and end up with a purple dress.  These things happen whether I am shopping or sewing, and it is one of the happy little inconsistencies of life.  I continue to believe that, had I not been looking for the green dress, I would not have noticed the purple one that finally caught my attention.

 

And now that you know that I almost always start with color, I'd  love to know what prompts you to start your search for a new garment or a new sewing project.  Do you imagine a silhouette?  A weight or type of fabric such as silk or cotton?  Or do you start off thinking about a color?  If you start out thinking about one color, such as a blue dress or a red blazer, do you ever end up with something else entirely?  Do share.

 

Little by Little

A lot has been accomplished in the last month.  Oddly enough most of it calmly, without stress, although I have had my moments when I have reverted to my previous self-stressing mode of existence.  In July I experienced a moment of clarity and since then I have tried to find calm, tried to create a feeling of calm in my life and my home.  Not surprisingly once I stopped struggling with myself, everything I was fighting for came more easily.

 

I am really not sure where I am going at the moment, but at the same time I am not worrying about it. And I certainly don't know how this blog is going to evolve and it seems strange to admit to that I will continue writting but I don't have a plan or a purpose or a goal.  Aimlessness seems so anti-modern and yet  I know I will get somewhere.  But I am tired of struggling with what I think I should write, tired of struggling with the persona I think I should project.  I am willing to evolve.  There, I can't believe it took me four weeks to get up the nerve to write that.

 

On the practical side, I have finally wrested my office into a manageable space even if I am still not completely unpacked.

I put cat perches up on the wall. Sometimes Moisés likes to perch up on the high curve and stare-down at me, Garfield-like, while I type here at my computer.  More often though he just lounges in the lower curve content to have his own space high above everyone else. I like that they add a sculptural quality to the room, filling in the empty space and making it feel more finished.  

 

As you can see, I still have boxes of unpacked paperwork on the floor, waiting to be sorted, scanned, and filed.  There is another box on the opposite side of the sofa, at least adding a bit of symmetry. But this is manageable. I like things to have a place to live, even if it is a basket in my desk or a box on the floor. It annoys me that  I don't really know what to do with the large blue triangular pillow standing in the corner.  G needs it for his physical therapy which he does on the office sofa, and truthfully, I find it a nice place to rest my head while I peruse a magazine and sip an espresso on those days I am felled by the 4 o'clock slump. Perhaps I will like the pillow more once I cover it in something more appealing than hospitaliesque blue cotton.

 

Which may happen soon.  My goal is to have a small working studio set up in one of the upstairs rooms by the end of the week.  I have to assemble the shelves so I can start unpacking fabric.  I at least have to move the fabric boxes once the shelves are assembled so that I can put up a table and a sewing machine.  Maybe even an ironing board.  I can sew amid boxes but I can't sew if I can't press.

 

I might be too ambitious.  It may be early next week before the sewing room coalesces.  This week I am exhausted.   I finally decided I needed to join a gym.  Specifically, this is my third week of cross fit and it is the most difficult and rewarding thing I have ever done.  I am stronger already.  I stand straighter.  Yesterday, on September 11, we did a hero workout in honor of Navy Chief Petty Officer Mark Carter who was killed in Iraq on December 11, 2007.  Even the beginner modification was tough for me but I did it and when I began to lose focus I pulled myself together thinking of all the people who work harder than I can imagine working and sacrifice so much that I can live my safe little life.  Somehow by putting a name to the effort I felt I had to do best I could.  I pushed myself so far I thought I would throw up before I finished, so I pushed further and I did finish.  When I was done I discovered a moment of pure joy as I stood in the parking lot watching the sunrise.

 

On the other hand, I think I can get that sewing space set up this week as planned.