For a moment, in my mind’s eye the scene resembled something like this, Brian Froud’s painting of a similar tangle:

In the introduction to  the new deluxe edition of the classic book Faeries that Froud created with Alan Lee, Froud writes that the book is, “a reminder of a world we all once lived in, when we had a connection to the earth itself. It presents faeries as they are:  the spiritual personifications of the hidden as aspects of the world’s workings…They try to remind us of our emotional and physical ties to nature and to one another. They are the keepers of natural wisdom, and we dismiss them at our own peril.”

I love this notion–faeries as personifications of our own innate sense of continuity with the natural world. In this light, I wish you many Faerie visitations (call them what you will!) during this beautiful season of winter-into-spring.

(For more on the earthen complexities of the Faerie realm, see my essay, “The Thrush and the Faerie,” in my first book Rare Encounters with Ordinary Birds.)

Enjoy.  For a more legible image, click here.

A yarn bombed parking meter in Vancouver, from yarnbombing.com.

And now, surprise surprise, a guest post from Tom about knitting!

What is it about yarn bombing that’s so compelling? “Knit graffiti” — it brings a smile to my face just to think about it! Guerrilla crafters wrapping yarn creations around objects in the streetscape under the cover of darkness, adding a touch of whimsy and warmth to the built environment we all share.

Part of what I love is the the way, when describing this art form, you can’t avoid juxtaposing words with a Monty Pythonesque absurdity – guerrilla crafting, yarn bombing, knit graffiti, textile street art, yarn core.

Don't mess with yarncore.

Do these purling pirates cover their faces with black hand-knit bandanas as they skulk through the streets in the moonlight? Do they hatch their dastardly plots over Earl Grey tea drunk straight with no chaser? Is there a yarn core bar where embroiderers are tossed into the alley on their ear, and brawls erupt over the relative merits of alpaca and sheep wool? (I certainly hope so!)

Anyhow… when I read that a yarn bombing project had knit round a bike rack at the other end of our own West Seattle neighborhood, I dragged us of all up there to take a look. (Then Lyanda and I got to have a little debate about whether this would make a better Bikejuju or Tangled Nest blog post – the answer is both!).

West Seattle knitter Jaesee wrapped this bike rack as her first yarn bombing project, and started an appropriately tough-sounding blog to document it and tantalize us with the promise of more of these dangerous urban guerrilla yarn actions to come.

It’s a wonderful little burst of color and flowers in our gray Seattle spring, and as we walked over through the drizzle to look at it, another fellow was also circling the bike rack and touching it. Yarn bombing is definitely a tactile art form; we also could not resist touching this installation, feeling its texture and figuring out how it had been made and attached.

Lyanda, Claire and I have all been pondering guerrilla art projects this spring, and we’re even more inspired now. Our projects probably won’t be knit graffiti, but I, for one, definitely aspire to find an art form with an equally hardcore-yet-whimsical name. Suggestions welcome.

PS: Higher-resolutions versions of these photos available for free use on Flickr.
PPS: Cross posted on Bikejuju.com

"I prefer to go by leg power."

In seeking inspiration, I was thrilled to discover the incredible grassroots work of Brazilian artist Valdinei Calvento, known in his country as “Cabelo.”  His work and his words evoke the strength of connection between self, community, nature, and cycling. Tom (my awesome hubby, who is an intrepid cyclist) just discovered Cabelo’s work, and published a series of three posts about it on his blog Bikejuju, featuring Cabelo’s illustration, street art, and posters.  So yes, this is a bit of family blog nepotism, but I couldn’t resist sharing a couple of my favorite images, which are followed by the artist’s lovely thoughts.

What is the noise of the cities today?  It is the noise of car engines, right?  It is not the noise of the birds nor the wind, it is the horns, the accelerations, and the brakes.  A city that validates bicycles permits the exchange of courtesies, of looks, of experiences, of contemplation, of gratitude.

Bicycles have a magical effect on their riders. There are moments of reflection that only the pedals can give to us–bicycles point out a different way of looking at the world, a cheap technology, non-polluting, that humanizes and harmonizes the city and its inhabitants.

And while I posted a couple days ago about handmade gifts as a way to lift dark winter spirits, Tom was addressing the same issue on Bikejuju, teaming up with Go Means Go to offer the Dark Days Photo Contest, designed to “celebrate riding in the darkest part of the year, when our motivation flags, the danger increases, and the temperatures plummet.” Submit a photo with bike-related content, taken outdoors, after dark.  Bike Glow and Planet Bike have stepped up with amazing prize packages.  Details, links, and contest rules at Bikejuju.  Go for it!

Meanwhile, find a quiet moment to enjoy more of Cabelo’s beautiful work on his blog and online portfolio.

Original enough for me, in spite of the artist’s protestations, and a reminder, in a society focused on the visual, to listen in ways I’ve never even thought of.  But I can’t definitively identify these birds in silhouette.  Any good South American birders to help me out?  I’m thinking an Icterid, perhaps the Shiny Cowbird?

Meanwhile–Peace, love, and birdsong.

We made them from Speedy Carve–an eraser-like art medium for creating your own rubber stamps. Our friend Audrey showed us how, and this was one of our first efforts.  We think they’re pretty darn cute. If you don’t have a crafty friend to teach you, check out this nifty tutorial at Geninne’s Art Blog.  It’s easy as pie.  (Strawberry pie.)

We love this little bicycle–it’s about six inches long, and the handlebars and pedals turn.

Tin cans are one of the primary materials for sculptural artists on the streets of East Africa.  Metal cans there tend to be painted, rather than covered with a paper label, so the sculptures  often show off colorful images of tomatoes and ingredient lists.

Sometimes the paint is burned off in the welding process, as with this bat mobile:

In Zanzibar, Tom became fascinated with the process of farming seaweed for toothpaste–the work is done mainly by women when the tide is out in the morning.  Jambiani village where we stayed is Muslim, and the women’s long skirts would float around their ankles as they worked.  One morning, Tom met this young boy, who had made a model dhow boat entirely by himself with found materials.  You can see on his face how proud he is of it, and rightfully so–it’s just beautiful.  The dhow boat we rode out to the reef was similar–hand carved, lashed together with rope and wire, and with a patchwork sail of rice bags.  Tom took this lovely, peaceful video.  Enjoy.