After threading nearly 200 beads on a length of linen thread, and then winding it oh so carefully on a stick shuttle… I had a clumsy mess! The beads were too big (these pretty blue beads), and there were too many to manage at once. Time to start over. Smaller and fewer beads on the strand of linen was the solution. Now I can successfully weave them in. Smaller and fewer. You cannot measure success by size and quantity. You cannot measure generosity that way, either.
Small glass beads arranged in a row before taking them to the loom.I found success when I threaded the beads on the linen thread at the loom. one row at a time.
We usually measure generosity by how much someone gives, but I’m not sure that is a true measure. When I give from my surplus, that is easy giving, no matter how much I give away. Most of us can do that. What about giving money, time, or resources from my personal supply? Now, that’s another story. A heart of generosity shows when I give what I would prefer to keep for myself.
Authentic generosity is a rare virtue. I am not completely there yet, but if I start with just a few beads, being intentional about selfless giving, I’ll be able to look back and smile at the results.
At Jason Collingwood’s Plain Weave Rug Workshop in Waco, Texas last week, I completed a technique sampler. I was not one of the fastest guns in the West, so I have a couple yards (or more…) of that linen warp still on my little loom. One piece of advice Jason gave in class was to use the intricacies of these techniques sparingly–to keep it simple when it comes to rug design. That is what I am aiming for as I finish off this warp, hoping to end up with some miniature rugs (the warp is only 11 1/4″ wide) as design samples.
Finished sample of plain weave rug techniques. The sample begins with countered twining that extends past the selvedge with a four-strand braid. My favorite technique is the crossed weft combined with meet and separate, seen at the far end of the sample.
Jason was kind enough to converse with me on topics that would benefit you, my blog friends. You can catch the first part of that conversation, covering Jason’s perspective as a rug weaver and a teacher of rug weaving, here.
Now, enjoy Part 2 of our conversation.
Me: Once someone has mastered the technical aspects, and is producing quality handwoven goods, they may want to sell what they have produced. What advice do you have for someone just starting out?
Jason: You need to be very determined. You have to accept that it’s not going to happen instantly. And you have to be prepared to sacrifice certain things in life that a normal job may give you–be that security, spare income, or, possibly, medical insurance coverage.
Me: It’s challenging to get started, then?
Jason: I look back to my early years, and it’s interesting… And Akiko, my wife, is a very successful ceramicist now, but when she started off, to save money, she would walk across London four or five miles, with a little dolly on wheels. She would buy her bags of clay, put them on the dolly, and wheel them back across London. And you know, there are all these early little sacrifices that you don’t see, when you see the person in the galleries successfully selling their work.
Me: Your father, Peter Collingwood, was well-known as an extraordinary rug weaver. But you still needed to put in a lot of hard work, yourself, for people to associate Jason Collingwood with high quality handwoven rugs. So, if someone aspires to succeed as a weaver, how can they make it work?
Jason: I think you need to have determination, and some amount of grit, and self-discipline. At the end of the day, there’s no one telling you to sit at that loom, and weave again the same things you did yesterday, and again, and again, and again. I think it’s just perseverance. As long as you are producing something of quality, eventually, if you persevere, it’ll pay off.
Me: Okay, that gives hope to someone willing to work hard. If we look beyond the present challenges, and work, with determination, we have something to look forward to.
Jason: You know, those barren early years are almost like an investment in your future life, your weaving life. I mean, I didn’t particularly enjoy those years, but I think they were almost a necessary test of whether I was going to stick it out. I think a lot of people would’ve folded in those early years, and said, Okay, this isn’t working. But, you know, it was kind of a test of my resolve that I carried on.
Me: Thank you for sharing your story! Your insights bring considerable value to weavers, but also to people in other fields interested in improving their craft. I appreciate the encouragement of your example of determination. Thanks again!
Please visit Jason Collingwood’s website, here, to see the stunning rugs he weaves and sells, as well as descriptions of his workshops. You can also enjoy the artistry of Jason’s wife, Akiko, at her website, here.
Pick after pick, the weaving continues. We won’t see the effect of this Swedish lace weave until it is off the loom and gently washed. That is when the lace magic happens. (See Laura Fry’s expert advice, such as this post, about wet finishing.) In the meantime, I keep throwing the shuttle, expecting a good outcome. Life is pick after pick, too. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, much less, next year. But we optimists do hope for the best.
Swedish lace forms where the weft crosses these open spaces in the warp.
The future is unknown and uncertain, even in the best of times. And insecurity is that much greater when facing difficult circumstances. When I try to figure it all out, or attempt to manage everything, I realize how little I am actually able to control.
The great paradox is that when I give up my control to the one who created me, I gain everythng that matters. A few years ago I met James, a wise old stranger (an angel in disguise?) on a flight to Kansas City. James told me his approach to life. His words were a gift I still cherish today. He said, I don’t know what the future holds; but I put my life in the hands of the one who does.
Some of my weaving projects have been flops. Those pieces are tucked in a box, never to see the light of day. Putting my weaving progress out there on this blog feels uncomfortable. Here I am, calling these white threads curtains in advance, but it could turn out to be a big oops! — like bath mat material, or sandpaper (don’t ask Steve about the bath towels). I won’t be able to hide this in a box; because you, my dear friends, are watching me!
Every time I start a new blog post I face mild panic. What if I don’t have anything to say this time? And what if I can’t discover a new weaving metaphor? Yikes, it’s all so public!
Try, try again. It is possible to exert sweat and tears, but have nothing to show for it in the end. We’d rather not let anyone know. But the creator who sees us does notice, and never calls it failure. Surprisingly, he tells us to go farther out, take a bigger risk, be brave.
Go ahead, try again, he says.
If you say so,… Okay, I will.
May you embrace the courage to try again, and find success waiting for you!
