names make all the difference

"glompod? is that you, boy?'

There's a word for it.
Words don't mean a thing.
There's a name for it.
Names make all the difference in the world. - David Byrne

A friend, who shall remain nameless for her protection, lives in one of our country's liberal hubs. I am jealous of the good restaurants she has access to, and the good shoes for sale, but mostly I marvel at her stories of the uptightness necessary to keep a place liberal. There are more rules there than at your average military encampment, but many of them are unwritten. It would prompt me to misbehave mightily, I fear.


It's better to visit once in a while, but mostly I just listen to her tales. The latest involved a woman who has eschewed a name, settling on a sound in its place. I don't know her reasoning, but it sure seems like it would just muck a lot of things up. Your attempt at becoming egoless, for instance, could make you bitter after you've explained it for the 12 thousandth time. I picture a sort of karmic "Wuh's on first" routine.

This is all to say: here is a sneak peak at a new bag I'm making. It needs a name. The good news is that I enjoy naming things. For some reason I want to call it Glompod, but that seems a bit gloomy.  But it's kind of a pod you glom on to. I promise I'll make a choice though, and not name it "That sigh that you sound when someone is slow at the register in front of you."

apertures, eyeballs and agfas

a dress from my f-stop series

I love old cameras. When I was kid my dad gave me an old Agfa. It was wonderfully dense, with ridged black sides and a lens that popped out with the press of a button, suspended by matte black accordian-folds. It used square 120 film that I would take down to Fay's Drugs to get developed, and I still remember the thrill of discovering I could take double exposures if I didn't advance the film manually.

I liked that cameras mirror our eye functions, I liked how much sense all the settings made, and I desperately wanted to have something in common with my dad - I was getting weary of skeet shooting ...

what does it mean to have enough?

Photography is all about letting enough light in for the right amount of time - finding balance while accounting for all the options we have available to us.

So I've been thinking this through - what is enough, what has balance, restraint, and about longing for things we can't have - as I'm making a series of clothes called f.stop. I'll be listing them here as they're done, through the next week or two.

Studio Secrets Revealed!

New tote bags in the works.

That's right, my secret design weapon is kraft paper™. No CAD. No space-age polymers. No robots.

Now I must kill you.

hermetic.

Hermetic is when you prefer to stay sealed in your own house drinking Sumatran French Roast, right? I thought so.

I skipped a friend's party last night to stay home, drink too much coffee too late at night, watch bad tv and shave my hair off. Ahhhh, February.

p.s. I didn't shave it all off. I used the number 8 attachment and left a few wisps in front to signify "girl."

the weirdness. it's genetical.

My sister (above? no, but she painted that) wrote me a poem.
I'm sorry she insulted your sewing abilities but I still love it.

Dear Miss Lentil dost thou speak of threads and bobbin things?
The clothes you make are destined to bestow on people wings.
Not gossamer not silkiness not chintz not crepe but cotton,
Your fingers weave a dream for those whose sewing skills are rotten.