Something I found while reorganising my bookshelves this morning: an old seedbook, with some projects and ideas that I had been toying with or working on at the time. Not sure what year I started this, but it was sometime between 2000 and 2005. Kris painted the covers for me…based on a kilim design from Daghestan, although the use of so much yellow makes the pattern look Chinese.
I’ve posted about seedbooks on here before; I keep them distinct from written journals and separate, again, from visual diaries/art journals where I just play and explore, visually, how I’m feeling or what’s going on in my life. A seedbook is really where I plant the seeds of creative ideas, refining or figuring them out, planning their construction with diagrams and technical drawings, or just a place to keep them ‘safe’ so that I can go back to them someday. The seeds may or may not actually grow into something, but at least they are there and I can evaluate, use, build upon, or discard them as the need arises. I have quite a few of these idea collections…
It’s so strange to go over old writings and designs…what a different sort of person I was then! Like this painstaking catalog of beads and other bits that I had purchased—no doubt intending to make who-knows-what costume jewelry or beaded and embellished book covers—complete with the price of each and a code for where I had bought them. I am happy to report that I am no longer this fussy; I have learned to work with the substantial stash of materials that I already have, and no longer suffer from anxiety attacks that I may run out of something and not be able to find it again. It allows me to discover new things to use, rather than repeat myself or my ideas by using the same materials.
Clearly, beads were an obsession at this time…and a kind of colorful, store-bought African tribal look that I thought was pretty hot *LOL* I do remember that I started collecting cowrie shells off the beach where we lived (I actually came to Darwin with two shopping bags full of ground down cowrie shells that I was going to decorate chthonic and primitive embroideries with…I ended up returning them, still full of dried salt and sand, to the sea) as well as clean pieces of bone, teeth, and feathers. The hunter-gatherer look.
These scrupulous hand-drawn diagrams for working tubular peyote stitch are testaments to a younger me, when I had all the time in the world to muck around like this. These days I skip the meticulous notes and try to get into the actual making as quickly as possible…
This design still delights me, and I think I will finally do something about it and turn the plan into an embroidery:
And this Polynesian design actually made it into the world of form! It ended up as a rich satin-stitch-filled embroidery, on the cover of a journal: