Janus

Janus:  Roman god of transitions, beginnings and endings, doors and gates, movement and time

Like many of you, I've been spending time lately looking back at the past year and forward to the next, figuring out what worked, what didn't, and what I'd like to change in my artistic life.

2015 was a year of creative growth.  I learned to use computer software that allowed me to plan my weaving designs more quickly and with more originality.  I experimented with different types of yarn and am learning to weave tapestry on a large vertical loom. I was fortunate to travel to places that were rich new sources of inspiration.  I have new designs in progress for tapestries that I can't wait to weave.

In business terms, both the production and the sales of my handwoven garments were stronger than ever.  I am humbled and grateful for the support of family, friends, and customers.  It is immensely gratifying to make things that people want to wear and give as gifts.

I was privileged to teach at Southeast Fiber Forum at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts in the spring.  I love to teach and always learn so much both in the preparation and in the actual class time of every workshop I do.  I'm very excited to be on the teaching roster at HGA's Convergence weaving conference in Milwaukee this summer.

Here's the thing, though.  My shoulders are yelling at me.  Apparently this 50-something body has its limits, and all the production weaving I've been doing has helped me to find out exactly where they are.  I'm learning the hard way that I can no longer just dive into every project that occurs to me (and to be honest, the side projects I've picked up here and there, the crochet and quilting and whatnot, aren't exactly helping).

So, this artist who normally starts the new year with a page-long list of goals and projects and plans has instead a half-page of . . .suggestions.  A provisional plan with humble goals.  It is a strange and unsettling place to be.  Appropriately for January, possibly some things are ending and others beginning.

Maybe, like the camellias that are blooming here out of season, there are new, even beautiful possibilities out there that I can't predict or control.