The hot, hot, hot of summer’s giving way to the heat of roasted chiles and sunflowers. Fall’s coming. Are you ready?
It’s September, the time that many of us consider the real New Year. You know, when you get back on a more regular schedule, stop drinking (as many) margaritas, and think more serious thoughts, like am I freaking crazy trying to sell hooked rugs in this day and age? I mean, most people that show up at my booth don’t even know what the hell they’re looking at. Is that weaving? (We are in New Mexico.) Hey, I did that in the 70s… And rugs aren’t usually the cheapest item up for sale at the fair or market or wherever they’re being sold.
My summer sale season started out very well. Sold a big rug right out of the gate. First weekend at the Rail Yards was good too. Then there were a few weeks of…nothing. Didn’t happen that way last year. Fortunately, it’s picked up lately, and finally going the Instagram way has helped too. One of my rugs will soon be winging its way north to Washington all because someone saw a pic and looked up my website. Woohoo! Actually, I like Instagram. Lots of pretty pictures and little typing.
“New Mexican Sun” (8″x8″; wool, alpaca, recycled clothing, ribbon, sari) will soon be on its way to Washington state.
So, why do we do it? Why do some of us try to sell our hooked rugs? In my case, the rugs were building up. They cost money to make, so I thought why not try to recoup some costs. To actually make money would be gravy. Of course, if one takes into account the TIME it takes to make a rug, I’m actually paying to make the damn things. But that’s okay. That’s the point, in fact. Whether I sell them or not, I’ll make them because hooking is a passion. And I really like making all kinds of rugs – even mug rugs – especially when I can switch it up all the time. One week it’ll be mug rugs, the next some larger, arsty-fartsy thing. It’s about the creativity.
Okay, and rug hooking lets me watch my television shows without falling asleep in my chair.
The reality is that I like hanging at art shows and markets. If I wasn’t a vendor, I’d be there buying things. At least manning the booth keeps my Visa bill down. Even better, I get to chat up all kinds of folks and spread the gospel of fiber arts. Sure, if I’m having a tough day and folks just aren’t stopping by, there’s a snarky inner monologue that starts going through my brain, but at least I have a purpose. And, hey, I feel just like all the other artists there.
And to that effect, for anyone who’s going to be in the Albuquerque general area (you know, within a couple hundred miles), besides my final two Sundays at the Rail Yards (September 24 and October 15), I’ve been accepted into three other fall shows.
Sunday, October 1 – OffCenter Folk Art Festival
Have shopped this one and really enjoyed it. Especially the giant puppet parade! (You’ll have to come see it yourself.) Robinson Park in Albuquerque.
Friday, November 16 – Sunday, November 18 – Fall Fiber Fiesta, 2017
This is the one that I’m really quite proud to have been juried into. Sure, I’ve taught a class at EVFAC, which organizes the show, but you never know what with all the fab fiber artists who live in the area. It’s a big show, and it takes place in Santa Fe at the Scottish Rite Temple. Friday evening is a meet and greet with the artists; the show-proper runs Saturday and Sunday. Not sure how I’ll handle the commute yet, but that’s a question for another day.
Tynan presents “What’s on the frame” today. I can’t help but feel the season – even when it’s 90+ degrees in the desert. The leaves are already turning in the Bosque! Anyway, this is a double mug rug. The mugs have tree forms on them. That’s all. Why not a landscape rug hooked with all kinds of fibers? The trees are Ultrasuede!
Tell us, if you’re a hooked rug vendor (the rugs, not the raw materials), why do you pop a tent and try to sell your wares?
“The First Boucherouite” hooked from old bed sheets and a smidgen of t-shirt.
This past weekend was a busy one for me, particularly in the hooking department. It started early too. Thursday found me hooking with friends. That was good; it let me finish hemming up the Boucherouite. Yes, I finally finished it. It took longer than anticipated thanks to plenty of one-directional hooking – the orange and yellowish areas. That was to imitate the weaving of the real Moroccan rugs. But I have to admit that I love how this one came out. Your thoughts? Me, I’m thinking that I have to make a much bigger floor rug. Time to collect the bed sheets…
Wool yarns that I microwave-dyed in Cathy Kelly’s class. Very pretty aren’t they?
On to Friday:Cathy Kelly gave a class on microwave dyeing to four of us in the guild. Thanks to Darlene for providing the space in her own “dye garage”! (She won’t hear that as she’s about to jaunt off to London and Paris. Why, yes, I am envious. How could you tell?)
The class was great fun. Come on, who doesn’t enjoy playing with color? Rather than wool fabric, we dyed yarn. Except for Nan, who’s high on felting, not just hooking. Here you can see the three skeins I dyed. Guess I was in a pink-purple-yellow mood. Note to self: next time work in the blue-green zone. But aren’t they wonderful and color-full? Thanks so much to Cathy for the class!
Friday evening – Saturday: Time to update the inventory and pack the car for the Sunflower Festival in Mountainair. Then bed. We had to be up early given the hour-and-a-half drive. But, damn, it was worth it. We’d never been to Mountainair before. The ride was visually stunning: bright blue skies; wide, open spaces; long freight trains; mountain passes. The best part was the cooler weather. Mountainair’s up about 6500 feet. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t sweat setting up the booth. Always a plus when you’re hanging with the public. And the tent gave nice shade. Again: perfect, end-of-summer weekend.
Tom rests under the High on Hooking tent. Unfortunately, he did NOT make employee of the month this time. No sales for him!Tynan enjoyed the Sunflower Festival. Of course, people made all over him. However, no sales for Tynan. Like Tom, he did not make employee of the month. Not a completely perfect, end-of-summer weekend for him and Tom. 🙂
I can’t say enough about the festival. I managed to sell a few things, certainly enough to get me back next year. There were plenty of art and food vendors. The bathrooms were near nearby and clean. You had your choice of the indoor type or the fancy porta potty type that I’ve seen out here. AC and everything! Plus there was full-on cell phone coverage when I’d been told not to expect it at all! The festival is obviously one of the big events in this tiny community, and it showed. Kudos to the Monzano Mountain Art Council!
Sunday dawns: We’re tired what with being outside all day Saturday not to mention the three hours of driving. Took the dog for a 45-minute walk then headed off on the weekly grocery shopping trip. I don’t know what I did between then and 5:00 when we left for Santa Fe’s Opera House. (That’s about an hour’s ride.) You see, I’ve always wanted to see an opera there, but Tom, not being into opera AT ALL, demurred at sharing such an experience with me. It’s wicked expensive, so I couldn’t fully blame him. He did, however, agree to see Garrison Keillor with me. Woohoo!
A perfect view for a perfect weekend. See the Sangre de Cristo Mountains from the Santa Fe Opera House. To the right in the foreground is a bathroom and bar. I like how they conveniently go together. Excellent planning, SF Opera!
The experience met ALL expectations. Again, perfect weather. Then there’s the view. The Opera House has a fabulous vantage point and, therefore, a gorgeous view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the east and the Jemezto the west. It’s an open-air theater (a word that doesn’t do it justice at all) so you can literally see for miles. We bought a ridiculously overpriced glass of wine to share and took it all in.
The interior of the Santa Fe Opera House. This is up near the top row, “oxygen seats.” I joke. While we sat below, there really aren’t bad seats in the place.
The show started about 15 minutes late. No matter. Folks drifted in toward their seats. If they hadn’t finished their cocktails, standing just outside the theater proper to watch was perfectly acceptable. (Only bottled water is permitted inside.) Keillor moved through the audience singing extemporaneously, shaking hands, and questioning our cell phone usage.
Garrison Keillor himself.
Making it to the stage eventually, he laughed at those of us who were “saluting.” I learned a valuable lesson: Next time I attend a show at the Opera House, I’ll bring sunglasses. The seats all face directly west, right into the glaring, setting sun behind the stage. Next time I won’t be such a newbie.
The show went on a full three hours. “Intermission” was a sing-along. While Keillor clearly didn’t have to pee, Tom and I certainly did. We didn’t head home till well after 10:00, arriving about 11:20. Bed called, and the perfect, end-of-summer weekend came to a close.
Now there’s just one big question: Whatever will we do for Labor Day?
Can’t there be another perfect, end-of-summer weekend? What do you have planned end the summer?
Whatever you do this weekend, make sure you take time to say a prayer for the folks of Houston who have been affected by Hurricane Harvey this past week. Their next days, weeks, and even years will be difficult.
Tynan and this week’s rug on the frame, which has been the rug on the frame for a few weeks. So close… Gotta finish it for Saturday’s Sunflower Festival.
As you can tell by the look in Tynan’s eyes, I have NOT finished the Boucherouite-esque rug yet. Yes, I am very close, but here’s the thing: I need it completely done for Friday evening when I pack the car for Saturday’s vending gig. That gig would be the Sunflower Festival in Mountainair, about an hour and a half southeast of Albuquerque.
The Sunflower Festival is supposed to be a fun time, and I’m looking forward to it. But I’d feel a hell of a lot better if the rug was done NOW! See, I have a few other things to do this week. Ironically, they’re all hooking related. Thursday, I’m hooking with friends. I considered staying home, hopefully, sewing up sed rug, but then they pressured me, told me they were making gluten-free items for lunch. Who blows off friends like that? (Or the GF food?)
Friday, Cathy Kelly is teaching some of us in the guild a yarn-dyeing method that’s done with a microwave oven. We’re dyeing yarn rather than wool fabric, so it really appeals to me. Check out the yarn she brought in to entice us into learning the technique. Yum!
Yarn dyed by Cathy Kelly. Not sure if I’ll hook with mine or use it in some crocheting project.
So, somewhere during the next two or three days, I need to finish hooking the rug, steam it, and hem it. Then price and tag it and enter it into the inventory log. Agh! Oh, and pack the mobile store into the car, adding a tent and leaving room for Tynan. Since we’ll be gone all day Saturday, he gets to go. While I love his company in the booth, he does have a habit of upstaging the merchandise. Maybe I can get him to demo the “Woof” rug while he schmoozes with potential customers.
Gotta run now, have to hook!
PS: Check out the home page; we’ve added two other shows to the vending line-up.
If you’re local or happen to be in New Mexico Saturday, come on down to Mountainair’s Sunflower Festival. Mention this blog article and get 10% off the rug of your choice!
Close-up of “Stolen,” hooked by Catherine Kelly. Beautiful, isn’t it? Love the colors, all the tones.
“Wait till you see my new rug, “Stolen,” guild-mate Cathy Kelly e-mailed me. She also said that I had to wait till it was finished before that happened. Okay. Really, I didn’t think too much about it other than I like to see what Cathy comes up with. She’s very creative, that one. In fact, since I’ve moved to New Mexico and joined the Adobe Wool Arts guild, she’s one of the folks who’s really pushed me to go beyond my own comfort level. And she’s done that just by modeling good, artistic experimentation and enthusiasm and encouraging us all to look beyond rug hooking to: 1) influence our rug hooking and 2) try new things.
Cathy also somehow convinced me to act as the guild rep to Albuquerque’s Fiber Arts Council. Sure, sometimes meetings can be a little tedious, but it’s let me meet a whole bunch of people I never would’ve otherwise come to know. Which further led to my joining the board of Susan’s Legacy, a non-profit helping women who suffer co-occurring mental illness and addiction.
So, you see, Cathy’s not just a great artist, but a class-A person and friend. But did that change yesterday when she shared “Stolen” with us at the guild’s usual demo gig at the BioPark? You be the judge. See the pic above of “Stolen.” Definitely an appealing rug.
You might be interested in one of my rugs, hooked years ago (despite the 2014 date); it happens to be hanging in the East Mountain Library in Tijeras, NM. It’s in an exhibit that was offered to Cathy for her work. She generously proposed to hang a couple of my rugs too. Here’s the rug I mentioned:
Here’s a close-up of my rug. I designed it as a table runner, and if I gave it a name, for the life of me, I can’t remember it. Guess I’ll call it “Stolen.”
Oh, and did I mention this one that I hooked in 2015, after I arrived in Albuquerque. I think that I was sewing rug binding on it at my very first guild meeting.
“Paging Party of Gray” is another table runner, just a little smaller, and it’s definitely not hooked in wool. But perhaps you’re noticing a pattern here? Like it should be called “Stolen”?
Okay, maybe I should mention that several months ago Cathy asked about purchasing the original rug – I use it to cover a small bench in my house. I had to tell her that it’s one of maybe three rugs that I won’t sell, that I actually use in my own house. Then she asked me if I’d draw out the pattern; she’d even try to sell it for me through her own hooking business. I said, “Sure, great idea!” And then I did absolutely NOTHING about it. Even when she reminded me. MY BIG BAD! So, I was thrilled when she hauled out “Stolen” yesterday morning. Laughed my ass off, in fact. Then we fantasized about how rich we could become if we started selling the “Stolen” pattern. Because you all know what a lucrative business rug hooking is. NOT!
That was yesterday’s fun. Regarding the RUG ON THE FRAME this week. I learned a little more about Boucherouite rugs after reading Liz Alpert Fay’s current Textile Art News. In the newsletter she had a story about Kea Carpet and Kilims (New York). The gallery’s Hudson location recently held an exhibit of rugs hooked/tufted by members of the Creative Growth Art Center (Oakland, California). Curious, I clicked on the gallery’s homepage and found…Berber rugs! Including Boucherouites! I learned that these rag rugs only started being made in the mid-20th century, so they’re a new thing. Check them out.
Tynan presents this week’s RUG ON THE FRAME. I’m enjoying the wanna-be Boucherouite. There is no way I am capable of being blind to colors and throwing anything in, but it is, after all, a Boucherouite- influenced rug, not an actual Boucherouite. WHAT’S ON YOUR FRAME TODAY? STOLEN ANY PATTERNS LATELY? 🙂
Tynan the Welsh Springer Spaniel here. After using my likeness so many times to sell rugs, she finally let me write the damn blog. I’m choosing to tell you all about my, I mean, our trip to Pagosa Springs, Colorado, last week.
First thing to get off my chest: Freaking cheapskates should’ve sprung for the whole week at the condo. First time in two years I get out of New Mexico (sure, she’s jaunted off to Tucson two Januarys in a row to rug hook), and they give me just four nights away and out of the desert heat. Arses, both of them.
Monday:
The master and I leaving the Wines of the San Juan Winery in Blanco, New Mexico. There are two bottles in that purple bag he’s carrying. And nothing for me.
So, the ride from Albuquerque to Pagosa Springs is just under four hours IF you take the most direct route. Do we take the most direct route? NOOOOoooo. Hey, I’m as good a car traveler as any other dog, but it’s still not my most favorite activity. (Favorite activities involve food and belly rubs.) Did they ask me about driving the long way just so’s they could visit a winery? NOOOooo. The Wines of the San Juan place was in the middle of nowhere. Really. But they were good people and even let me in the tasting room. Someone could’ve tossed me a pretzel, but at least there was AC. Apparently, my humans liked the wines because they picked up a bottle of the Serendipity Merlot and another of the Rosé of Dolcetto. Do they know how many Frosty Paws they could’ve bought for the same price?
Since we’re almost always in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico and Colorado – most of the ride was two-lane highway – they are so lucky I don’t puke in cars. More importantly, there was nowhere to stop for lunch. Okay, the chances of them buying me lunch are pretty much a big goose egg, but a dog can dream. I could tell she was getting a little cranky. All those pretzels he ate in the winery were definitely NOT gluten-free. She got nothing. Just like me. Ha!
The ride was kind of cool, especially as we moved from the high desert browns and tans and the juniper greens to the lush pines and aspens and all that grass on the cattle ranches. Man, being from Massachusetts, I’ve never seen so many cattle ranches. I’m not complaining. Who bitches about steak…on the hoof? She took tons of pictures – far more than any one person needs, if you ask me, which no one ever does – like she always does, even made him stop the car so she could get out and focus better. Perhaps I would’ve liked to have stretched my legs too. Nah, I just wanted to get there. Besides, I had the whole backseat to myself. At least they put my comfiest bed on it.
Part of Chimney Rock National Monument just west of Pagosa Springs. We didn’t go here, just drove by it a couple of times. But I think a return trip is going to happen.
Finally, I can tell we’re getting close to the place. They start discussing groceries and whether it’s cool enough to leave me in the car while they run in to pick up dinner stuff. I HATE it when they leave me in the car. Or at least that’s what I let them believe. So’s I start my usual whining and crying when they turn into the parking lot. Hunger clearly doesn’t agree with them; they tell me to shut up. What I put up with. I lie down in my bed perfectly comfy.
The view from the condo’s deck. Nice. Just look at all that green grass.
Fortunately, it doesn’t take them long, and even better, the condo’s less than a minute from the grocery store! They don’t even leash me when we get out of the car! The place was great! Surrounded by all this long, green grass. Real grass, not that fake shit we’ve got in our backyard back in Albuquerque. I pee (of course) then rub my face and whole body in the grass. So soft, so cool after those 105° days during the heatwave in the desert. Reminds me of the old place back in Massachusetts that we left behind. With the chipmunks which we don’t have in Albuquerque. I miss chipmunks, though the little punk geckos are pretty fun to hunt. But I digress.
The condo freaked me out a bit when we first got there. Strange sounds; damn, my own toenails sounded so loud on the fake wood floor. And I had to be careful all the time or I’d slip. I much prefer carpet. The deck was pretty cool. Real wood. I liked hanging out there, but I wish they’d have let me off to catch that stupid cat that sashayed by.
That night we went out to dinner at Kip’s. It was great. They bought me a plate of fish tacos. NOT! I sat in the car then got to hear about the tacos and fresh salsa all the way home. Typical.
Tuesday:
Tuesday morning was good; the mistress took me for a walk. On the leash. Not optimum like in the Bosqueat home where I get to run free most of the time, but okay. Or it was till we took that wrong turn that kept us out for 90 minutes instead of the hour she planned on. Idiot. I’ll give her, she didn’t do that again. After breakfast – theirs, not mine, but at least I scored some banana, I love bananas – we…get in the car again! Didn’t we drive enough the day before??? They say we’re not going far. And we’re going on a little hike. Okay, I like to hike.
The most beautiful part of the Pagosa Valley. looks like a freaking movie set. I’m telling you.
We drive east, back through town. I can’t lie, there’s good scenery: mountains; lots of horses; the San Juan River and even river rafters; more steak-on-hooves and ranches that look like they’re straight out of a John Wayne movie. We go up, up, up on our way to the Wolf Creek Ski Area.
The master and I at the sign for the Continental Divide Trail up near Wolf Creek Pass. The idiots took pictures of this same sign back in 1995.
There was still snow up there! And this is how dumb my humans are. We come to a roadside stop for the Continental Divide, and they realize that they’ve been there before, back in 1995,
when they traveled around Colorado. They’d driven the same road (albeit in the opposite direction, from the east) on their way to Durango. Duh! We turned around at the ski area because our goal really was the hike to see Treasure Falls. Of course, there were more stops to take pictures before we got there. But the Falls were pretty cool.
That night we ate at the condo. Because it was vacation, I got a couple of bites of their steak. She didn’t even hassle him about how much it would cost him if I got pancreatitis from eating human food. Hey, I walked and hiked that day.
Wednesday:
Can you believe this, after our walk and breakfast, we get in the car again! Apparently, we were headed for Durango. Why? It’s not like they hadn’t been there before. They wanted to see if it was different. Duh, it’s been 22 years! Have you not heard that you can’t ever go home again? At least it was only an hour in the car. We left the alpine greens and headed back to the desert browns. I have to admit that Albuquerque seems a lot greener than Durango. (Never mind that I’m mostly colorblind. A dog can tell these things.)
The French crepe dude’s cart in Durango. And I’ve still never gotten to try a crepe.
So the idiots were kind of disappointed. We got caught in local traffic driving in. They seemed to think that the place was a crap-load bigger than in 1995. (Duh.) Eventually, we found a parking spot and headed into the Old Town/downtown area. Talk turned to lunch and how they had to find a place that had outdoor seating that allowed dogs. Pooh. I have great manners, and since I’ve become desert dog, I absolutely adore AC. Amazingly, they found a little stand with a French dude who made crepes – yes, crepes in the Southwest – and decided to stop there. Apparently, the crepes were quite yummy. Not that they gave me any, claimed there were green chiles in them. Right.
But there was a bright spot. Several, in fact. Most of the shops let dogs in! And several even had water and – get this – treats for us canines! At the expensive shoe store I managed to score two Milk Bones. Woo hoo! They liked me; found me quite attractive. And, since I’ve lost a couple of pounds and got the slimming haircut, I have to say that I am looking fine.
Thursday:
Yeah, this was supposed to be a day of rest. All we were planning on doing till we went out to dinner was to finally let Murphy’s ashes go. Murphy was my big brother. They’d adopted him out of Colorado six months before I arrived as a pup in 2008. He’d just turned 12 then and managed to live till he was 16 and a half! I think I can take some credit for that. I was five when he died. Five! They’ve been holding on to his ashes since then! But again, Murph was a Colorado dog, so taking home wasn’t a bad call.
My old buddy Murphy, the Colorado dog who spent his golden days in Massachusetts.
Murph was a cool dude, drove the idiots crazy those last years. (I loved it when he pissed on the mistress’s hand-painted cupboard in the foyer. Ha! And he was bullet-proof, would just look at her like “What? What? I’m old. What are you gonna do to me?) Anyway, he got them good last week too. They knew they wanted to let him go in a river somewhere kind of private rather than in the middle of Pagosa Springs. Mistress finds a river on the map not too far from the condo, though it required traversing the forest uphill on a dirt road. The master loves that shit in his Honda Accord. Not! Gets better. After his constant “Are we almost there?” she tells him “It’s just around this curve.” And it was, but it was a DRY river bed. I laughed and I laughed.
Where we let Murph’s ashes go on the San Juan River in the San Juan National Forest. Pretty sweet, no?
Now they’re desperate. It’s our last day in Colorado; dude can’t go back to New Mexico with us. She tells him there’s a place on the completely other side of town…she thinks. Okay, they want to do right by Murph, so we head back east toward Treasure Falls. We find the parking area and the trail. But her map is sketchy. Not a lot of info. We head down the trail towards the river. And get maybe a third of a mile before the path just…ends. We turn around, head back to the car. They’re testy. “It has to be farther up the dirt road.” (Another dirt road; he loves that.) “No, the dirt road goes uphill, up into mountains.” “We can’t tell that; the river is to the right. It has to cross in front of us near here.”
As usual she breaks him and we head up the dirt road. Lo and behold! Maybe a half-mile up and down the road we find the river. We have a little ceremony (me from the car so that I don’t go swimming), and now Murph is running free in the San Juan National Forest. You go, guy. I miss you. And I’m still laughing because what should’ve been a half-hour commemoration took us two hours! Even in death, Murph wins.
FRIDAY:
After our daily walk, we packed up and were out of the condo by 10:00 a.m. Thank goodness, they opted to take the more direct route home. One more drive through the center of Pagosa Springs, a right turn onto Route 84, another two-lane, and we were on our way. We only made three stops. We’d never been to Chama where the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad is. We checked it out, used their bathrooms. The humans want to go back one day to take the train ride. I’m guessing that dogs are personas non grata, so perhaps I’ll be left at a doggy hotel for that trip.
Rug yarn at Tierra Wools in Los Ojos, New Mexico.
Back in New Mexico she made us drive two miles out of our way to visit, yes, a freaking fiber place, Tierra Wools. The master and I are in agreement here about these kinds of stops. At least they let me in to hang in the AC. She didn’t buy anything, but made sure she took pics of the rug wool colors for when she needs some. The master rolled his eyes like he always does.
We made one more stop at a cool place called Echo Amphitheater. While I was grateful to get out of the car to stretch my legs, it was NOT my favorite place. They might as well name it the “Fuck-Your-Dog-Over Amphitheater.” Yeah, the idiots thought it was great fun to call me and have it echo from the rock formation. I had no idea who was calling me and where the voices were coming from. Next time I’ll stay in the car, thank you very much.
And, just like that, we were home by around 3:30 in the afternoon. Our vacation over. I miss Colorado. It was cooler up there, and we’re back in another heatwave here. Ah, well. At least they’re talking more get-aways. In October it looks like we’re heading back to New England for the first time since we moved out here two years ago. And then in January, she’ll probably take us to Tuscon. No, we’re not going to the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers Hook-In with her, but the next day, we’re hoping to drive down to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, for a week. Very cool!
Hopefully, she’ll let me write more of these posts rather than just pose with her rug of the week. You’ll have to find that on the High on Hooking Facebook page later this week. Until then, thanks for reading.
Signing off and hoping I get to write again,
Tynan
Tynan the Welsh Springer Spaniel of High on Hooking
