"Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side. " —Lou Reed
I like to refer to the wisteria vine in my backyard as La Madre. In 2017 a gardener magically appeared and attempted to clear the wisteria from the back yard. (I say magically because he only stayed a couple weeks before he disappeared.) That was the year I made my first basket and I did a nice post about the whole process here. I remember feeling bad about cutting La Madre down, but I tried to honor her by making her into baskets. I suspected a little vine might still be lurking beyond the fence, but I had no idea that nine years later she would reappear holding an entire tree aloft.
In 2020 I had friends over to make a few baskets. I remember we easily found long strands of wisteria to work with toward the back fence. I must have been stressed by Covid in 2020 because I only did a post of my basket on Instagram (swipe to see everyone's baskets).
When a tree fell in our backyard this year, we got to see the immense strength, creative power, and resilience of the vine.
"It's said that the Wisteria Vine is a symbol of immortality... resilient enough to thrive for centuries even if left forgotten."
― Adalyn Grace
Vine Harvest
This whole project began because a large tree cracked in half right behind our fence. When I went to investigate the damage, I encountered hundreds of her slender, tangled arms holding the tree about eight feet off the ground. I needn't have worried about destroying her nine years ago. She is an unstoppable, creative force of nature. It's almost as though she thrived after getting a haircut.
"Wisteria is what happens when beauty refuses to be tamed." —AI
At first my nephew and I tried to cut some of the wisteria, but it was a little dicey as the tree was quite heavy and I worried about it falling on us. Eventually our neighbor Joe and his son came over with their chain saw, and we were able to untangle the tree and chop it up.
This week, I asked George to help me do a little more cleanup. The wisteria was still everywhere, but it was climbing up a hackberry tree and our baby goal was to at least cut it out of that one tree. Here is George with the loppers in our wild backyard.
"We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning." — Henry Ward Beecher
Ring and Rim
Below you can see the first ring I made from the vines. I started working with this ring until I noticed something beautiful in the back corner of the yard. It appeared La Madre not only wanted to impress me with her feats of strength, but also wanted to collaborate.
The back corner is where La Madre was originally planted. In the dark shadows I could see the vine had twisted itself into gorgeous braids. It appeared she had gotten a head start on the weaving. The strands were woven into intricate patterns no basket-maker could have planned. I imagine her taking pity on me, laughing at my feeble over-under over-under designs, and offering me her help. So George cut a section out for me and I made a new ring. Below you can see the vine before I trimmed the leaves.
After I removed the leaves, I curved it back on itself to form a fairly wide ring for the rim of my basket.
"Beauty is what happens when wisteria refuses to be tamed."
(my twist on AI quote from above)
Adding Ribs
After making the rim, I started looking for thicker pieces of flexible vine for the ribs. Every piece of vine carries its own history. Some curved willingly. Others resisted.
I think I had nine ribs by the very end. You can see seven below. The rib beneath my thumb turned out to be the most troublesome one in the basket. It resisted from beginning to end. Looking back, I'm glad I kept it. Without that stubborn rib, the basket would have behaved better, but it would have had less character.
Weaving
The beginning is always the hardest part because the ribs still want to move around on you.
It is best to weave a strand on each side to secure the ribs. And then I added a strand right in the middle that helped secure the location of the ribs.
I probably should have cut the long ends of the ribs off sooner than I did. They get in the way of weaving. But I like to keep them until the ribs are nice and secure, just in case I need to adjust the shape by pushing them through a bit.
On a "regular" basket using store-bought reed, I probably wouldn't weave new strands in like I did in the middle as shown in the photo below. Sometimes it can lead you to have repeating over-over, instead of over-under. But on a natural basket like this, you start to learn that anything goes.
Also, some of the turns were too tight for my wisteria vine. This was especially true on my "difficult" rib. And when I would pull it tight, I would hear the snap of the vine breaking. In the beginning I cut it and re-wove the new piece next to it for a couple inches. But by the end, I just kept going. Often there were thin, flexible fibrous strands that made the tight turn, and that seemed to hold things in place. I felt like the vine was teaching me to let go and trust in the process.
Finished Basket
By the end, the basket was VERY strong and the weave was tight. It didn't matter that there were broken bits here and there. I just cut them off as close as I could and continued weaving.
Here you can see a top-down view. Eventually, the white of the cut ribs will fade and not be as obvious.
Also, the green wisteria will fade to brown as it dries.
A few things I haven't mentioned that are helpful if you are going to try this: 1) Use a screwdriver or awl to help separate the vines as things get tighter. 2) Cut the end of the vine to a point to help ease the entry into tight spots. 3) Keep pushing the weaving to either side and adding new vines for as long as you can possibly stand it....until it is VERY tight and you can no longer squeeze in any more vines. This may mean you have to turn back around before you reach the rim to fill the wide spaces that are looser on the bottom.
Up Close
As you know if you read this blog regularly, one of my favorite parts of this work is the photography, especially close-ups, at the end. Below are some of my favorites.
I love that you can see the natural braiding of the wisteria vine around the rim of the basket. Interestingly, my favorite part of the basket wasn't something I created. It was the section the wisteria had already woven for itself.
I thought about cutting this white nubbin off, but in the end I liked that it became a focal point for this side of the basket.
As you can see below, the weaving wasn't perfect, but it really didn't matter in the end.
I particularly liked the photo below. It shows just how rough the texture was and although it will fade, I love the green.
The photo below shows the messiest part of the weaving. But this is the quirky nature of natural basketmaking.
I super-loved the change in direction of the vines in the photo below. It was a contender for the lead title photo, but the background didn't offer as much contrast to the type.
Hanging Basket
Once I was finished weaving I tied three strings to the basket.
Below is a video that condenses two days of work into 90 seconds. Turn on your volume! (Music by Tunetank from Pixabay).
I ended up adding a hosta to the basket just for the photos.
After the photo session I had to take it out because, although a tree falling instigated this project, I made it for another reason altogether. I made it for my friend Tiffany's birthday. Tiffany used to live in Cincinnati, but moved to New Hampshire. So I didn't think the hosta would ship very well. If there was ever a person who would appreciate a creative gift a little on the wild side made by La Madre and me, it is Tiffany. If I had to describe Tiffany in one word, it would be "maker." She is currently working in glass and has been making tiny glass octopi and encasing them in a marble. They are fantastic!
Conclusion
As always, at the end of every project I like to look back and see what I learned. And for this project it is fairly obvious. This basket was good practice at helping a rule-following neat-freak loosen up a bit. Although I like to think I can embrace imperfection, if I am honest, I really don't like it. It took some restraint not to cut off the weird potato spud ending that poked out of the basket on one side. And not only did I not cut it off, but I actually came to appreciate it as the focal point on one side! To me this is a sign that maybe my perfectionist knot is loosening up a bit. I don't think anyone would describe my aesthetic as loosey-goosey, but I think it's safe to say this basket is on the wonky, wild side of things. As I wove this basket, La Madre was weaving me at the same time. As she put me through her turns, she was showing me how accepting things as they are is not some kind of punishment. But that the places that don't go according to plan can become the most interesting part of the whole kit and caboodle. Maybe beauty isn't found in trimming away every stray tendril. Maybe it lives in the wildness itself. After all, La Madre isn't the only one with a few unruly strands.
To weave everything together, in closing I would like to wish Tiffany a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! And encourage anyone reading this to get out there and do your creative thing! Channel your inner Madre and be a creative force in this world. Make your tiny glass octopi and your imperfect vine baskets...because if not you, then who?
“This is the crux of being a Creative Mother... It is about the act of living authentically whilst honoring your mother self and creative self. About saying yes to life, every part of your life, and finding how to weave them all together.”
In February, my friend Joyanne and I met before our sketching workshop and travelled to Lake Atitlán, Guatemala. In my first two posts, Part 1 and Part 2, I described our first days at the lake. In this post, we travel to the timeless, cobblestone city of Antigua.
Our taxi driver, Josue, was amazing. He drove us both to the lake and back again, and I enjoyed practicing my Spanish. Unfortunately for us, we were arriving to Antigua on a Saturday during Lenten season. That meant all the roads of Antigua were shut down. Josue tried and tried to get us closer to the posada, but was rejected at every turn. So Joyanne and I had to walk a good six or seven blocks, while dragging our heavy luggage over cobblestones and navigating the huge crowds...all due to due to La Processión!
Me, Josue, and Joyanne
La Processión
La Processión is a tremendous celebration of faith during the Lenten season in Guatemala. Purple-robed, devout bearers carry heavy andas (wooden floats) of religious statues through the streets. They circle the town, accompanied by marching bands and hundreds of tourists, as a form of penance, gratitude, and service. Securing a spot to carry a float is highly competitive and considered an honor and a privilege. The first time I saw it was six years ago. It was in the evening and we heard the music approaching during our dinner. I remember running out and being enveloped in a mystical scene...copal incense in the air, somber discordant music, and the purple-robed figures marching with their ornate burdens.
When Joyanne and I reached the posada, sweaty and exhausted, we agreed to take a rest and meet later. But we heard the music approaching. So we rallied ourselves and were lucky to catch the procession one street over. Regardless of your religious preferences, it is an impressive sight to see.
Doors
After returning to our hotel, we met our sketching group and headed out for dinner. The setting sun lit our walk with the most incredible light. And I could hardly help myself from running back and forth across the street to photograph this or that.
I absolutely love the doors of Antigua.
The ornate door knockers and clavos (door studs) are truly works of art.
First Day of Sketching
On the first day of sketching our group headed out to visit La Cooperación Española, a cultural and educational center of the Spanish Embassy. Part of the property has an old ruin that caught our attention.
I decided to sketch one of the headless statues in the facade of the ruin. As I sketched, a pigeon landed where the head should be.
"Accept that some days you are the pigeon,
and some days you are the statue."
― David Brent
The interior of the modern section of the building was stunning with its painted blue walls and perfectly manicured grounds.
After finishing our sketches we walked home. I am always on the lookout for interesting subjects and this man selling ice cream caught my eye (at least that is my guess as to what he was selling).
I was also enamored with the color of the ruddy patina on this old wall.
And look at the tiles under this roof overhand!
When we returned back to the posada, Amy did a couple demos. She has a wonderful way of teaching and meeting everyone where they are at. I learn something new every time I take one of her courses. She also has the most incredible collection of handmade Beam paints (below). In addition, she is an amazing artist! Below you can see a small painting she did of the volcanos.
After working on our sketchbooks we went to dinner at Frida's and I had delicious fish tacos.
Nimpot
The restaurant is next to one of my favorite stores in Antigua...Nimpot. Nimpot is a CRAZY store chock full of everything imaginable under the sun. These photos give just a small taste of its abundance.
On the way home we walked through the famous Arco.
La Enfermedad
"I felt sick. I looked to my left where a beautiful, smooth-faced woman the color of a toasted tortilla lay sleeping... My intestines were made of stars with dark footprints of things that died to feed me in them; my lungs were windy caves where old people sat shivering; my liver was a beach of older stars where my fire sat on his throne: the little quetzal-tailed hummingbird, my new name, still trying to march toward the Sun. My heart was a lake of liquid jade where the Old Moon Lady sat underneath weeping yet; my knees were volcanoes. Lightning struck while I hid in the hollow tree of my ribcage..." —Martin Prechtel
Earlier in the day I had noticed that my neck hurt. I figured I just had "sketcher's neck" from looking down at my book so much. But when I got back to my room, I started to feel slightly nauseous. And soon enough I felt EXTREME nausea. In addition, my mind was spinning, desperate, and wild... spiraling in repetitive thoughts.
In those seemingly eternal moments of discomfort, the memory of an old mantra started coming to me. I found this mantra during the beginning of Covid and learned it to help ease my stressed-out mind. The mantra dispels disease by invoking the goddess Tara … “Om Tare Tuttare Ture Sarva Vyadhi-bhyo Raksham Kuru Swaha.” Tara is the Buddhist goddess of compassion and protection who carries suffering beings across the oceans of fear, illness, or inner darkness (often depicted with a blue lotus). As the mantra slowly came back to me, I felt myself calming down. Something about those words steadied me inwardly and gave some relief to my beleaguered mind and body.
I began singing a beautiful old song I’d heard in a dream...
The prayer was the horse,
the direction was the motion,
and what you were asking for was in the mind.
The heart carried all the images that corresponded to those contained in the prayer,
like an armload of verbal flowers for the Gods....
...shamans have hundreds of prayers,
each acquired in a long, strained, courteous fashion.
They are as precious as a corral full of beautiful horses.”
—Martin Prechtel
When I got home and sketched the view from my bed, I was reminded of a book by Martin Prechtel, “Secrets of the Talking Jaguar.” The typed quotes are from his book (which takes place in Guatemala) and seemed to fit my situation perfectly. The descriptions of his illness mirrored mine and were so evocative and lovely.
“Praying well meant one had to learn to speak in a measured rhythm, beautifully, dramatically, with no pauses, and to breathe in such a way that one never lost the prayer or image being shot like bright-colored birds out of the heart.” —Martin Prechtel
When the nausea started to subside, I started feeling cold. I had such a high fever and was shivering so badly that I could barely get out of bed to get an extra blanket. And when I finally did, I could hear my teeth-chatter echoing off the walls. At some point in the night I finally got really, really hot. By the morning I thought things had run their course.
Unfortunately, that is when the tummy troubles began. I spent the whole day in my room in bed (and the bathroom 😥). Amy was lovely and brought me soup, and I have never been so thankful.
The following day I still wasn't well enough to go sketching with the group. But I ventured across the street to find a breakfast of bananas and yogurt. I wasn't so sick I couldn't appreciate the incredible view of the volcano from my table. And the view from the restaurant window of the smoking volcano was fantastic (above).
Casa Santo Domingo
The third day I finally thought I could go with the group. I was surprised how terrible I felt on the walk to our destination. But I really wanted to go because we were visiting Casa Santo Domingo. This hotel, museum and spa is stunningly gorgeous.
The top right image (below) is a photo of one of the alfombras (rugs). During the Lenten season they arrange beautiful designs on the streets and floors made of fruits, vegetables, flowers, grains, seeds, sand and/or sawdust.
La Esmerelda
After we left the fancy hotel we walked to a nearby restaurant. I don't remember the name, but this restaurant had lovely private tables towards the back that were enclosed with plants. Someone suggested I should go and see them, and I was floored to see this turquoise beauty. When I got home I looked it up...it is a Jade plant, also referred to in Spanish as La Esmerelda.
La Esmerelda represents spiritual protection, emotional resilience,
and fearless, intimate engagement with the world. (Google)
The next day we followed Rosemary (Amy's second in command) to breakfast. I love this photo of her in her red cape leading us across the cobblestone streets of Antigua with the volcano in the background.
I was so very sad that I was still just eating bananas and yogurt. These two photos show what some of the others ordered for breakfast...avocado toast (upper) and shakshuka (lower).
El Carmen
One of my favorite ruins, El Carmen, happened to be just down the street from where we stayed. When I visited eight years ago it was truly in ruins. The restoration progress has been remarkable.
My favorite parts of this building are the ornate carved stone columns.
Below you can see the whole spread of this page in my sketchbook.
"When they locked eyes her heart bloomed with the radiance of a thousand suns."
"If you want to see birds, you must have birds in your heart."
—John Burroughs
Capuchinas
Every year I have been on this trip we go to a beautiful, old convent called Capuchinas. The convent is not far from our posada. But when I arrived I felt terribly weak.
I ended up propping myself against the wall in this corner to sketch. I took some liberties with the bougainvillea pots. But that is the beauty of sketching...you can embellish anything you want.
National Museum of Guatemalan Art
Our final day, Amy suggested we go to the National Museum of Guatemalan Art. It is located in the center of town. I didn't feel so great, but I didn't want to miss out on any more than I already had. I loved the view from the second story.
This was also taken from the second story of the museum and shows the Catedral de San José
The art inside the museum was wonderful. I was especially struck by the powerful presence of this Madonna and Child.
The view of the volcano from the other side of the museum was also impressive. Although I did not feel great, I am glad I went.
La Recolección
Our very last sketching location was at a ruins called La Recolección. There were now two of us who were ailing (for different reasons) and Amy was nice to send us in a taxi.
While the others were sketching I found a cool dark place to sit. I actually fell asleep in this room for a second.
After my short nap I found the others sketching in the back of the ruins. The church was built in 1717 and suffered through many earthquakes, the worst of which was in 1773. It is now a park and protected national monument.
It is difficult to capture the massiveness of the crumbled stones. But Catie posed for me to give it some scale.
Aside from being unable to go sketching most days, the biggest downside for me was not getting to hang out with the other women (and one lovely man) on this trip. I met Cathy on one of Amy's trips to Taos and I had hoped to spend lots of time with her. Alas, we will have to go again.
Video
It was so fun making this video summary of the Antigua portion of our trip. I used Prezi to zoom in and out, and I liked the effect. Turn on your volume! (Music by Tunetank from Pixabay)
Conclusion
In conclusion, I must say a word about the pink bird pot. I was lying in bed for many days on this trip, but I always felt the beauty of my surroundings. Guatemala is a magical place that contains unfathomable splendor, as well as miniscule dangers that can bring you to your knees. But there was a radiance I felt even as I cocooned in the darkness of my room… an energy that sustained me and occasionally drew me out to feel the sun on my face. The pink bird pot epitomized the liveliness that both surrounded and held me through the worst of it.
The night before my flight home I was still sick as a dog. Things were not improving and I was worried about my ability to fly home. I had a conversation with Amy and mentioned that I had an old prescription of Cipro antibiotic in my toiletry bag. She said, “At this point, I don’t think it would hurt!” I took it and within one hour I felt 100%. (Looking back I don't think it was anything I ate. I drank many limonadas con soda in Panajachel and my guess is that one of them was made with ice from local water.)
The next day I was untouchable. My flight was delayed eight hours due to volcanic ash, I missed my connection, had to spend the night in Houston, and only slept for four hours. But through it all, I was just thankful to be healthy again. I felt unperturbable. I felt a deep inner peace. Although I should have been exhausted from lying in bed for a week and from rough travels, I felt like a “bright-colored bird shot out of the heart.”
A huge thank you to Amy Bogard for taking care of me during this trip...and also to those who helped tend to me at Posada San Sebastián. Sending so much gratitude your way.
Guatemalan Worry Dolls
According to Mayan tradition, if you are struggling with anxiety or fear, you whisper your worries to the dolls and place them under your pillow before bed. By morning, the dolls will have carried your worries away, allowing you to wake up refreshed. (Google AI)
If you would like to read the other posts about this trip here are the links:
