One day left before Diamond Day

 As every year for a dozen or so years now I have contributed a donation to the SAQA Benefit Auction.

With all the things going on in my life I did not have time to get going about putting out a post "Bid on Me!", as SAQA offers for all donators every year. Nor did I have time early on to publish my Dream Collection, as many other contributors have done and I used to do in other years.

Only today did I take initiative to do so. And found myself in trouble, because how to choose from more than 460 artworks...? At first I thought I might try to find a topic, as I have done before, but that didn't work out for me. Then I thought I might take all members from 20 Perspectives who have donated. But there are more than six of us who have donated, and Dream Collections are supposed to be only six pieces. Of course, this being a different format altogether I could have jumped that regulation, but then I decided to abide by those rules and took six pieces from friends of mine. (Note that, amongst 464 pieces, there are many more from people whom I know personally and admire their work, so the choice to limit myself to six was even harder with the 'friends' category than the 20 Perspectives category. I hope nobody complains about the choice, it is absolutle no indication of the degree of sympathy I feel for the people.)

Here is my 2024 Dream Collection "Works from Some Friends of Mine":

Anne Bellas, Souleil Couchant

Linda Colsh, Narrow Days

Judith Content, One Winter Walk

Dolores Miller, Venice Vessels

Claire Passmore, Neon Upccyle II

Shoshi Rhimer, Reflection

Of course, there is the temptation to include one's own piece in the Dream Collection, but as jurors are not usually allowed to enter a piece in the show they are jurying yet may show one piece of their own, I will add, as a repeat showing, my piece as well.

Uta Lenk, Small Study in Yellow and Blue, p.C.

Diamond Day is tomorrow - any piece may be bought at the initial starting bid of $1000, after that the 464 pieces go up for reverse price bidding in three sections. Do take a look - it is a wonderful way of acquiring a piece of original textile art and supporting SAQA at the same time.

Farewells, too many

 

Waiting for a train last Saturday I strolled around Hambur harbor
for a little bit. Remembering the concert in Elbphilharmonie that was
interrupted by a fire alarm - and today I saw that that had happened again...

It’s all been a bit much lately, as I already wrote about a little while ago. So far, it hasn’t exactly eased up. The weekend before last brought two decisive farewells to go through.  Either of which would have been enough on its own, but both of them within less than 24 hours, and in the wake of all that’s going on…

The first one was the last and final farewell to my father, who had peacefully passed after four long and hard months in hospital. 

Hans Lenk, 1935-2024

 

We took him to his hometown to be buried in a site where he looks across the lakes that were so important in his life as a rowing champion, right next to the church where my parents were married. 

Looking out over the lake from a different angle.

 

The Eight that went on to win the Olympic gold medal in Rome

As sad an occasion as it was, the whole family agreed that it was a very comforting get together, to see each other after sometimes many years.

The next farewell, on the morning after the funeral, was to send my son off to college. The original plan had been that I would have driven him to Amsterdam and set him up in his dorm. As plans had to be changed and I had to go back to work on Sunday, that was not feasible for me, instead, my husband took him there and then continued home on his own. He did a lot of driving that day! (I had told him to stop and check into a hotel along the way, which he didn’t, just catching a bit of sleep in the back of the van and then continuing on, so I’m afraid I don’t really need to feel very sorry for him.)

Hard to say which one of the farewells is more difficult to deal with.

I feel immense relief that my father has been spared further suffering and treatments in the hospital, or even the care-taking situation he might (most certainly would) have found himself in had his weakened heart not finally given up. And I feel rage at all the back and forth he had to go through for almost four months when doctors kept operating on him, he was being shoved back and forth between various hospital wards and receiving more and more antibiotics that weakened his body and enabled an infection to grow so they could not get it under control in the end. It’s bitter to have seen a strong, successful, smart and intelligent person like him diminished into the weak, suffering and sometimes deranged vegetable that he was during his last weeks. And I question the ethics of modern-day medical technology and their ‘let’s do this and try that’, putting elderly people through ordeals that yes, perhaps increase their life span by sheer number, but at what cost of quality of life? (I also see this at work, every single day, and I have had several people my father’s age and older talking to me with tears in their eyes at what was happening to them and why did they have to go through this – well, at least my father was spared their specific kind of medical ordeal. Which doesn’t make it any easier.)

On the other hand, my son, a grown young man now, taking off into the big adventure of studying, moving to a different country, setting out to conquer the world. His arrival in my life happened when we had given up hope that we would be able to have a child – and then the miracle happened after all, completely natural, and he was a fun and vivacious boy with a strong personality, a compulsive and recognizable laughter and a charming personality. 

 

Yes, some issues between headstrong mother and headstrong boy, but no drug incidences (at least none that I heard of), and he spared us the possibility of the tattoo he and his friends were talking about just before their last joint vacation venture (they came back with ugly crew-cut kind of haircuts, which, thankfully will grow out before they grow seriously older). He was a fun kid to have, and as I have been noticing that the covid-lockdown-induced-sullenness seems to be lifting somewhat he has recently been developing into a very amiable youngster, I have also been hearing such appreciative things about him from outside that it truly has given me joy. Even if sometimes parents wish the children would act differently at home, it seems he has been doing just fine outside the house, and what else does one want? I did not get to take him to Amsterdam, but first reports have been positive and buoyant, and we are optimistic that he will find his way.

He left behind his piggy bank into which he had been depositing his small coins. 

 

I sorted through that heap of change, differentiating between 10- and 20-cent coins (my pocket), 5-cent coins (counting towards my next visit to the Munich Readery bookstore for second hand English books) and the 1- and 2-cent coins I will dump into the coin-collector at the local supermarket where the amount will be deducted from your next bill. The pig itself was mine, anyway, which he claimed at some point. It has lost its belly-button-stopper and I need to find a replacement for that, but I suppose I can now claim it back, for a while at least.

I admit, these farewells have left me frequently welling up in tears lately. Still packing up the house – my desk and more of my sewing room are next and highly urgent now. Creativity is still on the back burner, only infrequently do I find time and leisure to sit down and ‘make’. A bit of knitting here, a bit of spinning there.

"All my Blues" is taking all my blue spinning fibers,
these two bobbins remain to be plied.

The next spinning project in preparation: "All my Reds"

The towel somewhat slanted, growing slowly,
with a few more mistakes incorporated.

But I have challenges coming up that I can at least think about and do a little bit of research for. I have been invited to become part of the group ‘Voyage’, which was a pleasant experience. Depending on how quickly I manage to unpack my stuff at the new place after our move at the end of September I may join in with their planned exhibition for March/April (although that would mean a pretty tight timeline for completing the quilt). And there are two more pieces to be made for the current theme of 20 Perspectives.

Life goes on, despite farewells (more coming up, but those won't be as significant as these recent ones) and difficult times.

100 years after...

On August 1, 1924, my grandparents on my mother's side got married. (Only in the last few days did I start wondering how much of their attention was directed towards the first Paris Olympics back then…? Olympics being an importanst part of my family history, but that is a different story.) Fifty years later we celebrated their Golden Wedding anniversary with a boat tour on the steamer on Lake Ratzeburg.

My grandparents as the jubilee couple in front of the brick cathedral.
My grandmother absolutely loved this Norwegian cardigan and
wore it until it virtually fell to pieces, at which point my mother sat down,
copied the pattern in colored pencils and we then proceeded to recreate
the piece. I got to do the major part, knitting the body and the top part
after the body had been joined with the sleeves, which my mother had made.
We knit with rather different gauge, so it was a bit of an awkward piece in the end,
definitely the result of a labor of love rather than a beautiful piece...

 

A document of family history: my cousin on the left, me, my father,
my two brothers and my aunt who was living in Eastern Germany
and had received permission to come for this celebration. Despite the adults' efforts
of persuasion she refused to 'stay in the West' despite the fact that her
marriage was on the rocks already. She did not want to be dependant on
anybody and thus faced another 15 years behind the iron curtain because
after separating from her husband she never was never again given a permit to travel
and reunite with her parents, until the Wall came down.
By then both my grandparents had passed away.

Having recently moved ‘back’ to Ratzeburg I thought I would do a very personal commemoration of that event by taking that same boat ride, only it could not happen on August 1, so I went a week before.

 I just love this lake and am very happy that I decided to go for this big change in my life. Even if it meant that there is some upheaval going on right now and I still don’t know when that will end…

 

The day after that boat ride I went south to see my family and continue packing up our house for the grand move in the end of September. The big spinning wheel and the big sewing machine have already been transferred to the new apartment and my possibilities for making and creating have slimmed down. But since there is no time for that right now anyway I would rather have these two items transported securely by ourselves, and not trusting them to the moving services team.

 

But I had already shipped my contribution to this year’s SAQA Benefit Auction, which will take place in September. As readers of this blog may have heard my last two contributions did not fare exactly as one would have wished – two years ago my piece sold at the last minute, a few days before Christmas, from the SAQA store, and last year I took my piece with me at the end of Houston Quiltfestival and then gifted it to a good friend of mine.

However, I was early in making mine this year. I managed to ensure some clandestine shipment option early on, saving a number of euros in postage, and had a secret contributor who kindly shipped the little item from within the US. It has a two-digit-inventory number in the listing (not that that is something to be particularly proud of, but I noticed when I scrolled through last night.) Now I am hoping that this year’s piece will be a little more successful.

It was crafted from leftover blocks and pieces in my boxes, feeding creative juices after the pandemic, which consequently found its way into the title as “p.C” (meaning ‘post Covid’).

 

Small Study in Blue and Yellow (p.C.), 2024

Let’s see how it fares… You can preview the auction pieces here: https://www.saqa.com/auction

A Towel, somewhat slanted

 I confess, when I wrote my last post, it was a little bit with a mind towards 'talking about it all may take the dynamics out of it and perhaps things will turn to the better'. Rest assured, so far it hasn't. New happenings on the parents' health front, and being in the midst of packing, sorting, clearing out... I wonder how I can cope with it all, and I do wonder, when things will get better!

In any case - to please my battered little soul I gave in to temptation. Anybody who has been reading this blog for a little while may have noticed that I have been struck with a bit of infatuation with Sarah C. Swett and her textile adventures, and am an avid reader and big fan of The Gusset on Substack. 

My Sweater Somewhat Slanted is still in the making.

 

A few weeks ago she posted about her handspun and handwoven towels and showed pictures that were so lightweight and enchanting that I felt very much of the "Oh, I would loooove to have one like that" kind of yearning. Of course, I haven't spun any linen yet, nor milkweed (but I do think hers were made from linen), nor do I have any weaving equipment left in the house. (And being in the middle of a move to a smaller place there is no possibility of acquiring anything in that direction any time soon.) I do have linen to spin, but it didn't make it to the top of my spinning projects list that is currently being worked on with the Tour de Fleece 2024.

But as I was rummaging through my yarn stash I came across a large bag of natural colored cotton which had been a sweater and was taken apart a while ago, and something gave me the immediate feeling that this is the closest I was going to get to a handmade towel anytime soon. Again using the self-delusory trick of telling myself that one slip stitch is not casting on, I started to knit a towel. Planning as I go, embracing mistakes, adjusting the separating number of stitches between the stitch patterns on the go when I have miscounted, I am slowly working on it.

Of course, it is nothing as airy as the woven ones by Sara, in fact, it looks a bit clumsy. It won't be exactly lightweight, first of all because it is cotton, and secondly because knitting does not result in as lightweight a product as weaving. Which may in fact lead to the experiment being reduced in size, although I am determined to make it more sizeable than a wash cloth. Not sure how outside factors may come into this decision making process. But in times when there is basically no free minute to sit down at the sewing machine it is fun to have something 'new' to pick up to keep my hands busy.

2024 Half-year evaluation

 

When I was young, I always thought life would become easier as one grows older. Less emotional excitement, slowing down regarding ambitions, cares and worries. Growing more and more content with what one has achieved, looking around in a stable and richly populated circle of friends that could be trusted and relied on. My grandparents always seemed to be content like that.

Now I am headed towards turning 60 next year and I am beginning to ask myself where in my many turns in life did I take the wrong one …? Because somehow this idealizing image of old age just doesn’t seem to be materializing me. (And I am not assuming I am just not old enough yet for it to happen.)

This year started off wonderfully, the new job in the new town to where I had been dreaming myself for many years, the lake… Then in mid-February things started going wrong with a sudden development I won’t talk about here unless it has been resolved completely. Add serious health issued with rather elderly parents on both sides, the need for relocation on one side (luckily resolved!), and actually on the other side as well (no insight yet, and no preparations made), my husband’s decision to change congregation in the fall which means we have to sort, diminish and pack up our household of 19 years, as my son is going off to university starting in September and I am moving into my own apartment in Ratzeburg – and now, unexpectedly, the news that the practice where I started work in January will not keep me after probationary period. The reasons given are rather vague and sketchy, they refer to minor aspects of work that could easily be fixed if I had been told and were given a chance, but I am not. (Nor was I being told about them in due time, only immediately before the last days of probationary period.) I figure there must something else that is the real reason and not being talked about. This is an experience I am finding a bit difficult to process, and which I certainly did not need at this particular point.

By now I think this year is a strong contender for being one of the worst years in my life, and it’s only half over …

But: my husband and I agreed that I will look for a new job in Ratzeburg, because that is where we want to live when he retires in five and a half years.  So I went back up north to find a new job. I get to keep enjoying the lake, and I will keep my new apartment. Fortunately, there are many jobs for nurses to be found, and even though I had not wanted to go back into hospital and working three shifts plus Sundays, this is what has happened. I have started work on a ward, I have another probationary period to fullfil - by the end of the year I will have worked the entire year ‘under probation’. It all has been a lot more upheaval and excitement than I appreciate, I must say. I do hope things are slowing down now.

Before I left home I worked on my piece for 20 Perspectives’ latest challenge, ‘Conversing with the Earth’, the reveal within the group has happened and you can find the individual descriptions of group pieces on the 20 Perspectives Blog. Not surprisingly, my piece is not quite finished. But I will get back to it when I return home and to my sewing machine at the end of this week.

 

And, as the berry bushes in our garden were getting ready, at least a part of them, I started my last berry season. As far as I know there isn’t much yet growing in the garden which comes with my husband’s new job, and since we are only going to be there for a few years before he retires, I am not certain yet how much time and money I am going to invest by planting new currant bushes. This is one of the two poignant parts of the prolonged good-bye we have entered into, the other being that I will definitely miss the outdoor pool.

 

 

Currently in Ratzeburg, as I don't have a decent sewing machine here nor any fabrics, I am spinning along with the Tour de Fleece 2024

 

and enjoying the lake whenever I get the chance.

 Living nearby the lake, with only a 3-minute-walk that takes me to a place where I can swim or SUP (and many other places to choose from) is indeed a dream come true. So the year cannot keep being as difficult as it has been lately.