3 Sites, each composed in a different WordPress theme, are running; the active links to these sites can be found in the side column of the blog pages (see menu at top of scroll) and sometimes to the side of these posts.
one is my own, my professional artist’s presence; it is structured to handle occasional additions, updates and growth over time: Margaret Sunday, Tapestry Artist
another is me taking the bull by the horns and creating a home base for an on-going list-serve discussion. The project began with a dozen committed contributors, and now hosts 40 artists in its sixth month. Because it is always growing, spurring new works, new perspectives and more complexity, this site must be adaptable. Clutter is banished, and every artwork and written contribution is accorded a formal screen presence, allowing it to speak on its own. Drop by and see what we’re doing, and remember, this site is always in flux: Selfies in Tapestry; Slow Art in the Age of Quick
and most recent is a commercial venture, featuring an historic vacation property on the coast of Maine. The site concept centers on the owner’s photographs and writing, and the design reflects her personal style. The site is simple and spacious with room to grow, like Heroncrest itself. The customer reports an enthusiastic response: Heroncrest of Maine
Images: Way Up the Mountain, Middle Ground, tapestry by Margaret Sunday, photo: John Blake; detail of Slow Selfie, tapestry by Janette Meetze from the Selfie blog; Heroncrest, view of Penobscot Bay, photo: Carolyn Hearne
CODA 2013: Tapestry Art Today, the pilot edition of an e-publication on the American Tapestry Alliance website evolved into a project of major proportions, under editor Dorothy Clews, who enlisted me as designer. CODA features an international cast of tapestry weavers with six illustrated articles and a gallery of about 30 images of tapestries by different artists; 54 full color images in all. My design concept was to present contemporary tapestry with the elegance and vibrancy of a high-end coffee table book, internally balanced and paced in presentation, while incorporating a wide variety of esthetics, ideas and convictions. Attention to letterpress standards of typography (in so much as MS Word would permit!*), clarity, and the proportions of space, text and color rhythms brought recognition when browngrotta arts featured CODA on facebook within a day or two of launch.
You can see CODA 2013 via the link in the side bar of this blog’s pages (shown in the menu at top of scroll). Here is a taste of the cover:
(The cover image, Goth Deathrock Subculture No. 1 by Michelle Driver of Australia, was chosen by editor Dorothy Clews; with ATA Identity elements provided by the American Tapestry Alliance; integrated cover design by Margaret Sunday.)
* To those familiar with graphic design applications—you don’t want to know.
this being a blog…
the posts scroll sequentially from now to then, or you might find them in separate pages, read one click newer/ one click older. Either way, it’s not a book, not even a journal where the entries stay fixed in chronological order.
reading as a whole, or enjoying a planned progression of ideas comes as an afterthought and relies on the reader’s reconstruction of time from the bottom—up. The blog is designed for the new: the newest.
the idea of “right-reading” in some form has been with us a long time. The codex, whose pages are folded, interleaved and sewn in place, was invented, in part, to ensure the sequencing of ideas. We read books left-to-right, up—down and page-by-page, accustomed to the phenomenon of contents exchanging their relationships of recentness and past-ness with the turning of pages. We are comfortable with the idea that we progress forward when we read, and the codex structure supports the assumption that the next is built upon the previous in a way that the author considers important.
This being a blog, I wanted you to see the images of A blue cloud formation and my privet rose tapestry spiraled like a seashell placed together, in relationship
…before I tell you about CODA…
but you might be seeing them after—
July 4th Parade Day—a tapestry placed in the privet to commemorate the year a longhorn steer broke loose and almost caught its horns in my snow crab apple tree. People pass by every day and no one sees this rose.
Near first frost—I found beetles hiding in the pocket— they were slippered in, side-by-side like herring fish.
THAT SAILED THAT BEAUTIFUL SEA.
Or was it?
The wooden shoe that sailed the skies/ Is a wee one’s trundle-bed.
When an act of misremembering presents a potentially new idea, seined by nets of mind I did not choose and don’t acknowledge, I will accept it as a mercy, a merci.
I remember the tall, blue book and its pages awash with depths of blue revealed in light of a lullaby’s moon and twinkling stars. At the end, a wooden dingy resting in like a cradle, filled with glimmering herring that seemed to sleep aligned inside the boat’s contours in shifted rows as things alike in shape and size will make. They were the silver words of singing, gathered, settled gleanings, before silence.
This is my memory; it could be confirmed, as Mom still surely has this book. And one day I will look, but why feel rushed to unmake such a gift, if it should be of memory’s making? I am at an age where replenishment is at least as interesting as origination. Or perhaps like in a spiral, every gesture voices the first center any way.
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe—
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!”
The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea—
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish—
Never afeard are we”;
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam—
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
‘T was all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought ‘t was a dream they ‘d dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea—
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one’s trundle-bed.
So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
by Eugene Fields