Reflections on a Chinese Sewing Basket (an Interlude post)

Lid of a Chinese Sewing Basket -
live scans/digital - 2019, DS

(Click to enlarge.)

"Collected baskets have survived for decades, some for a century or more, each one having a diverse history. Countless baskets no longer belong to their original owners... Put simply, the old Chinese sewing baskets have traveled and experienced long, varied and in most cases, tough roads throughout the years."

- From the definitive book: Chinese sewing baskets by Betty-Lou Mukerji.

"Gu embroidery is rather a family style than a local style originated from Gu Mingshi's family during the Ming Dynasty in Shanghai. Gu embroidery is also named Lu Xiang Yuan embroidery after the place where the Gu family lived. Gu embroidery is different from other styles as it specialized in painting and calligraphy. The inventor of Gu embroidery was a concubine of Gu Mingshi's first son, Gu Huihai. Later, Han Ximeng, the wife of the second grandson of Gu Mingshi developed the skill and was reputed as "Needle Saint" (针圣). Some of her masterpieces are kept in the Forbidden City. Today Gu embroidery has become a special local product in Shanghai."

- Quote and photograph (inset left) via the Wiki entry for Chinese Embroidery.  (Feminist alert! Note that the woman who invented Gu embroidery - a concubine - remains anonymous.)

"By the T'ang Dynasty, considered the Golden Age of China, thousands of women were employed as seamstresses and embroideresses, and Chang An, then capitol of China, became a trade center for woven and embroidered textiles. By the Song Dynasty, embroidery embellished parasols, fans and shoes, as well as household items such as screens and bed coverlets were being produced. The Ming Dynasty saw the development of the ranking badges, worn on the front and back of robes by military and civilian officials and by their wives. Many of the Imperial Dragon Robes that you see in museums also date from the late Ming Dynasty."

- Excerpt from an article about Chinese textiles found here.

"My new wife is clever at embroidering silk;
My old wife was good at plain sewing.
Of silk embroidery one can do an inch a day;
Of plain sewing, more than five feet.
Putting her silks by the side of your sewing,
I see now that the new will not compare with the old."

- Dialogue between a man and his "old" wife from the poem "Old and New" by an anonymous Chinese poet, 1st century BC. Source: A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems compiled by Juyi Bai, 1919. (Feminist alert #2: Interesting set of cultural stereotypes here: the "frivolously" artistic New Wife, the industriously productive Old Wife and the man who chooses quantity and economy over beauty!)

"After the initial awe, I felt like one of the blind men on the bridge in the classic Zen drawing -- I had no idea where I was going or how to arrive.  Despite these challenges, the intention to affirm my aspiration to practice persisted. As the teacher led me across the  bridge, stitch-by-stitch, I watched myself reflected in the sewing.

Continuing to practice and learn, I noticed that sewing and wearing Buddha's Robe  deepened my understanding... Buddha's Robe began to express for me the essence of compassionate bodhisattva practice.  First came the effort of offering stitches without thought of gaining anything -- even finishing.  Then, in treating the robe with gentle respect as if we were  one, not two, the robe became tangibly steeped in the caring stillness and openness cultivated by practice..."

- Drawing parallels between Zen and sewing; specifically the practice of sewing a replica of
Buddha's Robe. Inset right (above) is an antique Chinese table apron. Below (inset left) is another. Both were sourced here.

***

It's been spring-like in New Mexico for the past three days... which - if nothing else - informs me that winter's on its way out and it's time for a change. Oh yeah, and it feels really nice, too... puts a little "spring" into your step... makes you think like: "Hey, maybe things aren't so bad, after all."

And maybe they're not.

Then again, I haven't posted an Interlude in some time and this blog is due for one.  You know, the slice-of-life kind of thing. For the (virtual) record, the last "slice" I blogged about was in January of last year... when I was still living in my car, photographing Sandia Crest. (See here and here.) Despite how harrowing the word "homeless" sounds, the situation was not unbearable. I was surviving; I had a self-appointed mission. And, the winter was unusually mild.

Which was okay... till my car was broken into one night (as I slept in a motel) and my camera was stolen. Although I did trying utilizing my phone's camera, the truth was the magic was gone and my mission over.

Cutting to the chase - and I always do - shortly thereafter I was to come across the star of this post: a Chinese Sewing Basket I picked up in a thrift store for one dollar and fifty cents ($1.50 USD). Apparently, those who sold it placed no great value on it. This is commonly referred to as "Buyer's Luck"; in this case, mine.

Every old artifact has a story, wouldn't you say? I can't help but wonder what this basket's was. But, I think I know. It's kind of like when two vagabonds meet or two wild entities cross each other's path. While actual words might never be spoken, a certain recognition, an insight exists. If boundaries are respected, sometimes the strangers fall in together... like this basket and I. Although technically without a home, we share an indoor space together at night. And, maybe even something more: some encoded shreds of cellular-history or a narrative... or a sub-cellular impression of movement and color.

Or, whatever dreams are made of. (Perhaps, nothing, nothing at all.)

Inset right (above) is an example of antique Chinese embroidery sourced from this site. Directly inset left is another lovely piece found here. More about Chinese embroidery can be found here. There are also Chinese Minority textiles, and an interesting, somewhat-related article here.

BTW, I sometimes have some newly-acquired quality time with my computer these days, and have begun to really work again. The image of the Chinese Sewing Basket lid was my first image this year... and, is basically a manipulation of several "live scans." Well, it's a start... just in time for the first month of the Chinese New Year.

***

Addition (April 15, 2019)

Joy - digital - 2019, DS

Well, the news around the world is sad today. Tears came to my eyes when I read about the fire at the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. (See the BBC report). Oddly enough, I had only learned last year that the Hunchback of Notre Dame was Victor Hugo's literary attempt to prevent the demolition of Notre Dame during the 19th century (see this blogpost). But, meanwhile, I just finished a reworking of the Chinese Sewing Basket - the last of my detours - and I was in a dead heat to put it up.

Which is not say I didn't like my original graphic... (nor is this to say I didn't keep the original file). It has a mandala-like effect that (I swear) informed a series of my dreams, embellishing them with delicate, Asian-like symbols.

But, the basket lid seemed lonely... so, I gave it an audience... a trio of brass frogs! (See The Significance of Frogs in Chinese Culture.)

Incidentally, the Chinese characters on the tag translate into the word "Joy"... something the world can never have enough of.

Matrices of Sand; Art Which Heals

"It is possible to undergo a profound crisis involving non-ordinary experiences and to perceive it as pathological or psychiatric when, in fact, it may be more accurately and beneficially defined as a spiritual emergency."
- Stanislav Grof; quote found here.

"Navajo Sandpaintings, also called dry paintings, are called "places where the gods come and go" in the Navajo language. They are used in curing ceremonies in which the gods' help is requested for harvests and healing."
- from Navaho Sand Paintings

(left) Navajo Sandpainting found here.


"The performative power of sandpainting creation and ritual use reestablish the proper, orderly placement of the forces of life, thus restoring correct relations between the patient and those forces upon which the patient's spiritual and physical health depend. The sandpainting works its healing power by reestablishing the patient's sense of connectedness to all of life ( Griffin-Pierce 1991:66)."

- from Chapter 78; Navajo Indians sand painting, The History of Graphic Design, Guity Novin


"After its sanctification, the patient sits on the painting while the chanter performs a ritual to enhance the absorption of its healing power. Immediately afterward, the remains of the painting are taken outside to an area north of the hogan, where they are returned to the earth."

- from Navaho Sand Paintings

"The mandala is a formal geometric pattern showing the floor plan of a sacred mansion. Once the diagram is drawn, in the following
days you see millions of grains of colored sand painstakingly laid into place. The sand, colored with vegetable dyes or opaque tempera, is poured onto the mandala platform with a narrow metal funnel called a "chakpur" which is scraped by another metal rod to cause sufficient vibration for the grains of sand to trickle out of its end.  The mandalas are created whenever a need for healing of the environment and living beings is felt.  The monks consider our present age to be one of great need in this respect, and therefore are creating these mandalas where requested throughout their world tours. When finished, to symbolize the impermanence of all that exists, the colored sands are swept up and poured into a nearby river or stream where the waters carry healing energies throughout the world."

- from The Sacred Art of Sand Mandalas, The Tibetan Monks of Drepung Gomang Monastery (.pdf) 


"The Oglala Sioux Holy Man Black Elk said "You have noticed that everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the power of the world always works in circles, and everything tries to be round" (quoted in Moodley & West, 2005, p. 298)."

- from: Chapter 78; Navajo Indians sand painting, The History of Graphic Design, Guity Novin


"The Mandala is a creation consisting of circles, which start at the center and extend outward. The circle, a primeval natural form – consider the stars, snowflakes, tree trunks – has served as an inspiration to humankind since the dawn of history. People from various cultures discovered that the creation of circular forms facilitated the expression of inner cosmic entities. Native American shamans draw dance mandalas during healing ceremonies; the Shield of David symbol is based on the form of a circle divided into six equal parts; and the Tibetan mandala symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death."

- Eitan Kedmy, from his website.
 

"Native American Indians regard art as an element of life, not as a separate aesthetic ideal. In indigenous societies, the arts are aspects of public life that bring dancing, poetry, and the plastic and graphic arts together as a single function or ritual as the all-embracing expression. Art is indispensable to ritual and ritual is the Native American Indian concept of the whole life process. Native people see sand painting as indistinct from dancing, dancing as indistinct from worship, and worship as indistinct from living."

- from Native American Art; Sand Paintings

***

I am just about to hang up my "Gone Fishing" sign, meaning I'm going to be off the radar for the next month or two, but I wanted to finish the Matrices thread before I signed off... (unlike a number of other "threads" I've introduced on this blog, only to ultimately leave them dangling).

Happily, the images and quotes I chose for this post adequately describe sand painting, rendering any additional verbiage of my own fairly redundant (and, for this, we should all be grateful). ;-)

However, just a bit about mandalas, sand paintings and the Matrices...

A Belated Happy New Year... And Another Dragon

Well, I missed my deadline... and the "jade" still needs some work, but I decided I'd better post version #3 before I totally went around the bend. It is seemingly not the most auspicious time for artwork!

In any case, may the Water Dragon bestow it's blessings upon all of us!

2012 - the Year of the Dragon

"Unlike the wicked, fire-breathing dragons of Western mythology, China’s celestial dragon symbolizes potent and benevolent power. Dragons are ancient, majestic, wise, and intelligent, and Dragon years are considered particularly auspicious for new businesses, marriage and children. Dragon years also tend to boost individual fortunes and the world economy.

It’s also true, however, that all five of the Chinese Dragon years — Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal and Water — tend to magnify both success and failure. So while they can mark huge achievement, disasters can be equally immense. The Year of the Fire Dragon (1917, 1976, and 2036) typically wreaks the most havoc.

However, the Year of the Water Dragon (1992, 1952 and 2012) is noted for its calm, visionary intelligence, and balance of right brain creativity with left brain logic.

What influence might the Water Dragon, which rules from January 23, 2012 to February 9, 2013, have on the powerful energies already anticipated at that time?

Like all Dragons, the Water Dragon is an innovative, fearless leader. But the Water Dragon is also far more sensitive to others’ needs, and is more likely to be progressive and diplomatic, as well as socially and environmentally conscious. Because Water bestows a more peaceful disposition, this Dragon will act wisely and intelligently, and unlike his fellow Dragons, is willing to set aside his ego for the good of all."

2012 - Year of the Dragon

The 2011 holiday season is now behind us and 2011 is now history, and I imagine that very few of us are particularly sorry to see the back of it. But, as it stands, the end of the year and the western New Year celebrations have always left me a little cold - okay, a lot cold - quite possibly because my birthday happens to fall on December 31. Yeah, you'd think I'd be out there partying like mad and having a grand old time, and I confess, in my twenties and thirties I really did try. But I failed. Now, I just find the whole enterprise, all the New Year's hype and forced sentimentality, abysmally depressing. As in, yuck.

And, no, I don't dig having to add a higher digit to my age, either.

Then, of course - and lest we forget -  one can't escape all the gloom and doom via   soothsayers who will insist that the world's about to fall down the crapper in 2012. Well, it's always something. This time it's due to misinterpretations of the Mayan "Long Count" calendar. As it happens, according to this particular calendar, 2012 does mark the end of a Mayan cycle. It does not, however, indicate that there aren't any further cycles to transpire.

Interestingly, others have marked this period as the "return" of Quetzalcoatl, the Meso-American "feathered-serpent" god, which, if you think about it, could very well be representational of a dragon.

Anyway, when I realized that the Chinese Lunar Year of the Dragon is due to begin the 23rd of January - the day of the new moon - I put on my proverbial dancing shoes again. THE YEAR OF THE DRAGON - how cool is that? And it falls on a date with a fairly auspicious number - 23. It's so nice to have another day to start the year again!

Contrary to western tradition, the dragons of the east are magnificent creatures and not evil at all. Interestingly, the Chinese people believe that they've descended from dragons, which is of particular interest to me, in light of my own dragon Princess. (And, speaking of reptilians...)

That being said, the minute I realized that this is a Dragon year, I felt inspired to create my own lucky talisman image, hence the 2 images - variations on the same theme - above. I incorporated all traditional Eastern elements in my design, including the red lozenge-shaped emblem with the gold symbol of good fortune, the large dragon character, and four additional Chinese characters for longevity, happiness, prosperity and love. I used actual jewel scans to create the images, notably carnelian, pearl, obsidian and gold. I'm working on one with jade also, and if it works out, I'll add it to the post. 

(UPDATE: The jade dragon can be found here.)

Meanwhile, feel free to "borrow" a talisman for your own personal use - non-commercial only, or it won't be so lucky... well, that is unless this "starving artist" gets a piece of the pie!  :-) -  and, most importantly,  have a most fortunate year! 

Patron Saint #6: Sakiko Ide, an Artist Obsessed

Sakiko Ide, Untitled - Oil on canvas, 1973 - Azuma Gallery

"If you would be happy for a lifetime, grow Chrysanthemums."

(a Chinese philosopher)

"To dream that you gather white chrysanthemums, signifies loss and much perplexity; colored ones, betokens pleasant engagements. To see them in bouquets, denotes that love will be offered you, but a foolish ambition will cause you to put it aside. To pass down an avenue of white chrysanthemums, with here and there a yellow one showing among the white, foretells a strange sense of loss and sadness, from which the sensibilities will expand and take on new powers... Often death is near you in these dreams."

- From an online Dream Dictionary found here.

Scene: New York City, Time: 1975. Police are called to an uptown apartment by the building's superintendent who, upon entering said apartment - to turn a tenant's water off, which apparently had been running for some undeterminable amount of time - is met by an unpleasant discovery. When the police arrive on the scene, they find "large canvases... stacked against the wall, reaching almost to the ceiling in the small apartment." Strangely, these canvases seemed to hold images of chrysanthemums exclusively. "A narrow path led through the giant chrysanthemums to a bed, a kitchen and a bathroom." It also led to the lifeless body of a middle-aged woman, apparently the artist. Her wrists and stomach had been slashed in such a "brutal" way, however, the police were initially inclined to describe it as homicide.

Shortly thereafter, or so the story goes, the verdict is changed as the police are tipped off by one of the woman's "male co-workers" - at a company which reproduced antique Asian-motifed screens - that the artist had recently inquired about "the best way to commit suicide".  It couldn't have helped that she had suffered a nervous breakdown five years hence to remove any suspicions regarding her death.

But, I can't help but wonder why a few warning bells didn't go off. regarding the fact that not long before her death, she had "received" a life insurance policy, and having no one to claim as a beneficiary - as, apparently she had no family - one of her afore-mentioned co-workers was chosen "almost at random", so that the necessary forms could be filed.

In any event, that was the end of investigation. Death by seppuku, also known as harakiri, a form of ritualistic suicide originally reserved for Samurai warriors, and, in this particular case, a method generally reserved for males ("the best way..."?).

Sakiko Ide, Kikusui VI - silkscreen with hand coloring, 1973

The artist's name was Sakiko Ide, born in February, 1927, in Japan, and relocating to America to study art in Chicago during 1965 at the age of 36. After her graduation, two years later, she moved to New York where she became a member of the Japanese Artist's Association. She painted in oils as well as made serigraph prints, which were delicately hand-colored with pastels and inlaid with gold and silver leaf; some of which were bought by the Museum of Modern Art.  Others were exhibited at the Azuma Gallery, which, after her death, held a posthumous one-woman show.

I was introduced to Ide's story from an article - "The Chrysanthemums of Sakiko Ide" - written by Tricia Vita, appearing in the now historical rag, The Feminist Art Journal, (Spring issue, 1977) (from which the two B/W reproductions above originate). I even made a pilgrimage to New York to view her work. In my impressionable (and theoretically suicidal) youth, I was drawn to Ide's story like a moth to... well, a moth. There is a certain romanticism surrounding suicidal artists and poets, a tradition that flourished from the mid 19th century leading up to its end in Fin de Siecle culture, that "ominous mixture of opulence and/or decadence", Death, and especially suicide, was an obsession amongst the Romantics and their future incarnations, the Symbolists. One might say, the Pre-Raphaelites wouldn't have existed otherwise. Paintings like "The Death of Chatterton" or Millais' "Ophelia" are just two cases in point.

As a young artist - and "Goth" before there was such a thing, the Fin de Siecle held a peculiar fascination for me, and stories like Ide's fit into my personal paradigm like a calla lily in a narrow black vase. But, as a middle-aged woman, and an admittedly failed romantic, I am no longer so sure that Ide took her own life. Certainly death did not help her career in any way. Apart from that one posthumous exhibit, many of her works were destroyed. And, after that exhibit, all mention of Ide seemingly ends. For instance, in researching Ide online, I came up with zip, nada, and nothing. That is, apart from what I imagine are a few of her lesser works up for auction... and even here the artist is referred to as male!

Sakiko Ide - found here

So, perhaps this is the real tragedy. A woman bravely comes to this country alone with hopes of a brighter future and winds up anonymously dead, without warranting even a truncated Wiki entry. So, yes, Sakiko Ide is Patron Saint #6 of Trans-D, but I think my real motivation for this post is to ensure that, at least, there is one article about her online.

In the last analysis, I'm haunted by Ide's chrysanthemums to a greater degree than I am haunted by her suicide, if suicide it was. What did she mean by all these Zen-like constructs, that floated on oceans and hovered in skies, clustered amid fluffy, almost child-like renderings of clouds? In Japan, the chrysanthemum is considered a symbol of the sun and perfection. A Chrysanthemum Festival is held each each year, which is known as the "Festival of Happiness". Ide's last paintings were of single white chrysanthemum "those flowers which faithfully bloom after all the rest of the fragrant species have departed.'" Of these last four canvases, only one remains. A friend recalls that "she bought four large tubes of white paint. I think she was trying to do more."

I think so, too. And this is why I don't necessarily buy the suicide angle. Artists who are obsessed with a subject do not declare "the end" quite so abruptly. Then, too, she had won an award earlier that year at the Silvermine New England Exhibit, as she had the two previous years. It wasn't as if she had no future as an artist, and, as a mature woman in her late 40's, I would suspect that she'd come to terms with the solitary aspect of her life.

One may argue that Sakiko Ide is not to be placed amongst "the greats" - examples of her chrysanthemums hanging alongside Van Gogh's or Monet's is an imppossible occurrance - and that her legacy is of no great loss. I feel differently. "An artist obsessed" is an artist with a voice, with something urgent to say and to which they dedicate their lives in the saying. Relevancy is relevant only to what any single one of us needs to know at any given moment. In the end, an artist can do no more than present a vision, a vision that exists with(in) or without the "eye of the beholder", but a vision that will continue to exist, despite the demise and interment of its creator.

Sakiko Ide - found here

Note: Pending permission from Tricia Vita, the author of the article found in The Feminist Art Journal - a magazine which I still possess and from which I have quoted extensively for this post (and of which there is no online resource) - I will insert page scans here in the future. I believe this article may be the only thing written about her, although, if someone out there has more information, I would be most happy to include it here.

***

UPDATE: For those interested, the PDF file of the article (text) mentioned can be viewed here.

Also, this photo of Sakiko Ide (to your left)  accompanied the article. Click on for a larger view.