Sandra Brownlee at Long Ridge Farm - Day 3

Each morning of Sandra Brownlee's Tactile Notebooks and the Written Word workshop at Long Ridge Farm found us gathering by the fence line to observe the wonders that Sandra had hung as samples and inspiration of/for the day's teachings. Last Friday the line was hung with words - typed, printed, crocheted, painted, tatooed, stitched...the list is endless.

Day 3 = Words

We had time to look, to be awestruck,

to soak in the glory of words and letters

in whatever form or

or shape they took.

Letters from friends captured our hearts

with their creativity.

Taproot jumped out at me from this word laden elephant. 

And then we gathered to listen to our wise teacher's words

as Sandra began to share

her own work with us.

Her journals are exquisite.

Her reports even more so.

One last look before getting to work.

I had struggled on Day 2. Odd as we'd been working with paper - something I fall more and more in love with every day. Each exercise left me unhappy and wondering just what was wrong with me. Why couldn't I settle and find that creative pathway?

Toward the end of the day, it finally hit me - I didn't like the paper of the pages in my notebook. Too smooth and perhaps a bit too large. There was another in my bag though - smaller, more intimate with handmade pages. It would mean creating a whole new cover.

Jan Baker's wondrous work

On Day 1, or perhaps 2, Sandra had likened the classroom to taking a journey on a barge. Sometimes you want to stay on the barge and join in the activities on board or view the shoreline from there. Other times, you want to get off and explore or simply enjoy wandering alone. Either is okay to do.

So...with permission to get off the barge, I gathered indigo (from Glynnis Dolce of Shirbori Girl) pins, batting, thread, needle and departed the barge.

Settling myself in front of Jan Baker's glorious work, I took time to really look at it. Letter after stylish letter, the words and letters themselves flow together - they touch and dance along in a line that catches one up in the rhythm and has you whirling along before you realize your feet have left the ground.

The letters hint at words, at sentences, at stories that need telling yet are perhaps a bit shy about yelling out their story.

With those thoughts in mind, I set about stitching a word across the full width of my cover in a way that the letters merged just enough so that when the cover is closed, what is seen is curves and lines mingling together.

There is a word there. Can you guess it?