Poetry as Prayer in West Paris, Maine: A Local Visit from Stuart Kestenbaum

As some of you know, we have a rental property for sale in nearby West Paris, Maine. We were up there working on the house on Saturday afternoon and on our way there noticed the sign you see here, outside of the First Universalist Church of West Paris. I knew immediately we’d have to go.

Stuart Kestenbaum is the current Poet Laureate of Maine. His biography from his website states:

“Stuart Kestenbaum is the author of four collections of poemsPilgrimage (Coyote Love Press), House of Thanksgiving (Deerbrook Editions), Prayers and Run-on Sentences (Deerbrook Editions) and Only Now (Deerbrook Editions). He has also written The View from Here (Brynmorgen Press), a book of brief essays on craft and community.

He has written and spoken widely on craft making and creativity, and his poems and writing have appeared in numerous small press publications and magazines including Tikkun, the Sun, and the Beloit Poetry Journal. He is currently serving as Maine’s poet laureate and hosts Poems from Here on Maine Public Radio/Maine Public Classical

He was the director of the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts in Deer Isle, Maine for over twenty-five years, and was elected an honorary fellow of the American Craft Council in 2006.”

After listening to Stuart Kestenbaum’s poetry and interviews on Maine Public for many years, imagine my delight and surprise in being able to go to a live reading and meet the man himself.

Of course, he did not disappoint. His poetry was personal, moving, and filled with deep references to place that, when interspersed with traditional Universalist hymns, rituals, and readings in a century old rural Maine church created an atmosphere as reverent and holy as any in the world. With so much (deserved) focus on Notre Dame this past month, we would also be well served to remember and honor the smallest places of worship in our very own communities.

Stuart also shared himself generously, offering his own thoughts and experiences, his writing process, and so much more in personal vignettes related to the readings and to us. His work, both in his writing and in his twenty seven years as director of the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, reflect a deep love for and awareness of the interconnections between nature, making, art, writing, craft, and living as a human on this planet. For this reason, although I was surprised to find our distinguished Poet Laureate at such a tiny venue in such a tiny village in front of, yes, a tiny audience, it also seemed so right.

You see, Universalist churches are a haven for inclusion, and Stuart’s poetry and message felt as though it spoke to all of humanity even as it resonated with us, his fellow Mainers. As I approached the church in West Paris I immediately noticed its lawn sign: “Hate has no home here.” Next to the front doors, literally permanently fastened to the building, is the rainbow flag, a sign that LGBTQ persons are welcomed and loved in this place of worship. These signs of inclusion are soft and welcoming, yet they are also fierce. They are fierce in their message of unconditional love and acceptance, something every major world religion teaches and yet so few of us, if we’re honest, are able to live up to. People of many upbringings and traditions have found home at Universalist churches and for this reason I have always been drawn to them. They are common here in New England where progressive and free thought is both revered and, by some, reviled, and has been for centuries.

For whatever reason, however, I had never been to the First Universalist Church of West Paris. After being warmly welcomed at the door (by Will Chapman, by the way, the full time librarian and archivist for the Bethel Historical Society and part time librarian at the Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village), I was stunned by two visually overwhelming and beautiful features of this century old church.

First, the stained glass windows in this building are just breathtaking. Anyone who is an ardent admirer of stained glass should visit this church and spend some time awestruck by the craftsmanship and detail they show. Second, and of a very different nature, are two phenomenally hand-crafted works of fiber art at the back of the church. They were made by artists in Peru who used their fiber art as a means of support and were gifted to the church by a congregant. They are extremely detailed scenes of life on earth, filled with plants, animals, humans, scenes of village life, all in vibrant color using a variety of textiles and techniques. It was in the midst of this unexpected beauty and craftsmanship that the next hour of poetry, prayer, and fellowship unfolded, and it went by quickly.

At the end of a Universalist worship service, there is a ritual called the closing circle. All of us stood, held hands, and formed a circle while Stuart offered some closing thoughts. He reminded us that the context of our meeting here included world news of the terrible synagogue shooting this past week at Congregation Chabad in California and the Holy Week terrorist attacks in Sri Lanka and offered encouraging words of love and unity. As I stood there holding hands with people who were, prior to that hour, strangers, people who came from many walks of life and many religious or non-religious traditions, I wondered once again why hate gets the upper hand and creates tragedy all over the world. I don’t have the answer to that. I know you don’t either. But I can tell you that for one hour or so in West Paris, Maine, in one Universalist Church, with one Poet Laureate and a small group of loving and welcoming individuals, love reigned.

First Universalist Church of West Paris, Maine
Hate has no home here.
Welcoming and affirming.
Stuart Kestenbaum readies himself for his readings.
One of many spectacular stained glass windows at the church.
Peruvian textile art.
Bridal scene on Peruvian textile art.
So many meticulously stitched creatures.
Let our poetry, and our lives, be a prayer for unconditional love.

2018 at the Parris House – A Visual Year in Review and a Pondering of Gratitude

We are in the last hours of 2018 and I find myself thinking about the psychological concept of negativity bias, explained on Wikipedia this way: “The negativity bias, also known as the negativity effect, is the notion that, even when of equal intensity, things of a more negative nature (e.g. unpleasant thoughts, emotions, or social interactions; harmful/traumatic events) have a greater effect on one’s psychological state and processes than neutral or positive things.”  I admit I fall victim to this.  If someone asked me “How as 2018?” I might respond with a long sigh…even a groan.  I mean, hey, I listen to a LOT of NPR.  My political and social proclivities are known to most of you.  No need to elaborate here.  But I’ve got a great antidote to our natural negativity bias.  Go back and look at your Facebook or Instagram photos from 2018.  Yes, it’s a known hazard of social media that we post our “highlight reels.”  This does have the effect of perhaps sugar coating things and, it is ever important to say, we should never judge our own real lives by the highlight reels of others.  But I am arguing here that these photos can also serve as a gratitude journal of sorts, assembled perhaps unintentionally but there nonetheless.

The working title of my upcoming book is A Year at the Parris House and that’s exactly what these photos, culled from the Parris House Wool Works Facebook page and posted during 2018 show. While these are highlights, and specifically highlights related to my fiber art and homesteading life, they also represent a good part of my personal reality and one that I enjoy sharing with others.  It doesn’t mean that nothing bad happened to me, my loved ones, my friends, or especially my country during 2018.  But these photos are one hundred and seventy five or so touchstones for gratitude.  They show in my professional life: a book contract, a successful gardening and beekeeping season, an article and project in Making Magazine, my first book advance, a writing and making trip to my beloved Nova Scotia, work on a major commissioned piece, my ongoing work with Beekman 1802, happy times teaching and demonstrating skills and arts (here, at Beekman 1802, and at the Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village), two hook-ins (Belfast & Paris Hill), and our remarkable Get Hooked at Sea trip aboard the Schooner J&E Riggin with so many other talented souls.

I shared some personal points of gratitude too, including another trip to Nova Scotia for the graduation of my son James’ girlfriend, Beth, from Dalhousie University, and the highlight of my entire year, the wedding of my son, Robert, to his beautiful bride, Tracy.  My relatively new Collie companion, Wyeth, has been at my side for all of this.

2019 is already shaping up to be another year of gratitude.  I am working on another magazine project and article, finishing up that major commissioned piece, finishing up my book manuscript, and starting the redecorating/sprucing up of the Parris House for its opening in 2020 as a fiber art/homesteading/heritage skills center, just in time for the publication of my book.  I am also in the beginning stages of a new teaching initiative I’m brainstorming with some cherished collaborators and, of course, Ellen Marshall of Two Cats and Dog Hooking and I are already taking registrations for Get Hooked at Sea II.  I may even get to Rhinebeck this year (fingers crossed on the new vendor juried application) and I will definitely be back at the Sharon Springs Harvest Festival.  On a personal note, my two youngest sons, Peter and Paul, and Paul’s girlfriend, Gabi, are graduating from college in May.  I have reached an age where not knowing what else a year will bring is met with anticipation rather than anxiety, although, being no stranger to tragedy in my own life and in the lives of those I love, I am hoping all of us can avoid that unknown this year.

I would encourage you to look back at your own photos from the past year and linger over them long enough to remember the moments in which they were taken.  Most importantly, remember the people in your life who made that moment possible and take some time to thank them for their part in making the best of whatever 2018 dished out.  We do nothing, achieve nothing, are nothing, alone.  In my case I need to thank my family, my friends, my VA, Paul McCoy of Practically Arts Studio, my assistant, Heather Daggett, the Tuesday group, my online customers, and all of the makers, including Ron Adams of Bear Pond Wood Works and Edna Olmstead, who have helped stock the shop with good things since day one. I need also to thank Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Brent Ridge, and everyone at Team Beekman 1802 for continuing to afford me an opportunity to better make a living with my art and also spread the art to a wider audience than I would have on my own. To every venue and every publication that has ever hosted me for teaching or writing – including Beekman 1802, Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village, Telstar Adult Ed, Stitchery in Rhode Island, Portfiber, Rug Hooking Magazine, Making Magazine, the Schooner J&E Riggin, and now my publishers at Down East Books/Rowman & Littlefield.   To mentors who have generously taught me so much: Connie Fletcher of Seven Gables Designs, Susan Feller of Susan L. Feller, Artwools,  Eric Davis, Vanessa Rogers of Backwoods Bee Farm, Carol Cottrill, Lisa Steele of Fresh Eggs Daily, David Homa of Post Carbon Designs, Edna Olmstead, Mike Iamele and the incredible people in our Mastermind group, Britt Bolnick of In Arms Coaching, and more.  I know I am risking leaving someone out by name; there are just so many to thank as this year winds down.  If you tried to write a paragraph like this, who would you come up with?  Perhaps take some time in the next few weeks to privately and even publicly thank them.

I don’t expect all of you to look at my pictures.  I have compiled them here as much for my own future reference as for your possible enjoyment.  There are about one hundred and seventy five of them, so click through some, all, or none, but do click through your own and, if you feel called to, tell us what you were grateful for in 2018.  Sometimes gratitude is just the fuel and inspiration we need to go out in to the world and help right the things that are wrong in it.

Thank you to every single one of you for your support in 2018 and I wish you a very happy, prosperous, and beauty filled 2019.  – Beth

*Note on clicking through…be sure your cursor is pointed on the side arrow which will appear as you hover on either side of the photo.  The arrows tend to shift up or down a little bit as the photos appear.

 

A New Book Coming…and I’m Writing It! What It’s About and How to Pre-Order

So, I’m writing a book.  For over a year I have been shopping a proposal to publishers.  I knew that I could self publish at any point, but I have wanted to collaborate with a publisher for many reasons, not the least of which is to tap in to a professional editor’s expertise in helping to make the book  something that will best serve my audience and that will have a viable distribution channel.   One publisher told me that the proposed book was too broad for their niche.  Another publisher told me it was too niche for their broad audience.  Fortunately, like Goldilocks, I found a match that was just right in Down East Books, headquartered in Rockport, Maine (yes, I know the image says Camden, but trust me on this), which is an imprint of Rowman & Littlefield in Maryland.

This book is both in itself, and is about, the realization of dreams.  I learned to read when I was three.  My mother always said I was two but I’m adding a year to that to make up for a possible exaggeration on her part.  I mean, maybe?  But no matter.  I started writing stories at about age five, drawing pictures to go with them.  I remember one in particular was titled, “The Foggy Frog.”  I collected frogs, the toy and figurine type, although I played with real live toads on the regular outdoors on the edge of the southern NJ Pine Barrens where I grew up.  I remember the pictures I drew.  I could recreate them even today.  By the time I was twelve I knew I wanted to publish books of my own.  I was twelve over forty years ago.  In the intervening four decades I had stopped listening to the inner me who wanted to write, make art, play music, and have a creative career.  People who meet me today think I’ve been working in the creative economy my entire life, but it’s only been since 2014 that I’ve worked in fiber art full time.  By the time my new book is published it will be 2020.  I will turn fifty-five years old in 2020.  I want you to hear something loudly and clearly in this:  it is never too late to realize a dream.

The working title of this book is,  Seasons at the Parris House: Heritage Skills for a Contemporary Life.  I have no idea at this moment whether or not that will be the title on the front of my book when it is released in 2020 but it captures the essence of what it is about.  Let me take an excerpt from my proposal to explain the vantage point from which I approach this project:

“When I was thirty five, eighteen years ago, my husband and I moved ourselves and our four then-little sons from the urban/suburban Princeton, NJ area, a region in which we had spent our entire lives, to rural Western Maine.  We went from a 1950s mid century modern cape on a suburban lot to a two hundred year old Federal home and barn in a National Historic District. Our new neighbor across the street had a cow in the backyard, much to our young sons’ amusement.   I was a stay at home mother with a degree in Business Administration/Marketing from the University of Delaware. I had, prior to becoming an at-home mom, worked in market research and in procurement and project management for a large defense contracting company on busy Route 1 in NJ.  I didn’t garden, I didn’t hook rugs, I didn’t keep chickens or bees, I had no idea how to can food. Upon arriving to the Parris House, I noticed that our apple trees looked like they needed some attention, but I had no idea what to do. Sometimes I baked. But it seemed as though almost everyone around me in my new home was proficient in at least one heritage skill, whether they were my age or old timers, and I thought, “That’s amazing.  I need to learn these things too.” That was the beginning of my journey of bringing heritage skills into my own life, without a big farm, without a lot of formal training, but rather learning them the way the people around me had learned them: the passing on of knowledge, often inter-generationally, from one human being to another.”

That was my situation upon the realization of one of my most fervent dreams to that point, which had been to move to rural Maine and raise my sons here.  What I know now is that the desire to work with my hands, create something out of nothing, grow and preserve food, keep animals and insects, and “practice heritage skills,” was not unique to me.  In the nearly two decades I have lived here in Maine and collected a new skill set, the yearning for these skills among the general population has only increased, including among people living in urban areas and people with little to no land at all to work with.  I tell people all the time that none of this is rocket science, but they often seem skeptical.  They seem to believe that heritage skills are complicated, mysterious, or beyond their reach.  They are not, and this book is for anyone who wants to make a start toward learning them.

I have always enjoyed the juxtaposition in my own life of living in a two hundred year old home in a National Historic District while always embracing the newest technology I could afford.  At the Parris House we have smart phones, smart lights, and smart thermostats.  This laptop I’m writing on right now, not to mention the fact that I use it to run a business that’s about 90% online, is a technological godsend.  We also have centuries old windows with wavy glass and completely pesticide free growing practices.   I dye wool in pots on top of a vintage gas range…and then sell that wool to anyone literally in the world who wants it via the internet.  You don’t have to live like Laura Ingalls on the prairie to embrace heritage skills, and you don’t have to completely forsake the solid methods of our ancestors to live a contemporary life.  Mix it up.  Make some dreams come true with it all.

The book will take you through the four seasons at the Parris House.  It will take a look at the historical contexts of the place, people who went before us, and lifestyle behind what we do here today.  Each season will have fiber art projects, recipes, growing tips, fun things for you to try yourself.  You do not need a farm.  You do not even need a lawn for some of these projects.   They will require no super specialized equipment, impossible to source ingredients, or secret codes to unlock. They will be simple, but not insult your intelligence.  Each featured project or recipe will result in something valuable, beautiful, and/or delicious but without unnecessary complication.  Many will be starting points or stepping stones to get you on your way to a deeper study of whatever it is you find you are most interested in.

It will have beautiful pictures, because I’m a visual person and I’m going to be taking lots of beautiful pictures for this project.

It will be a working book.   While I hope to make it visually inviting, it is not meant to sit on the coffee table or the shelf.  It is meant to be out and open on your kitchen counter or table, in your craft area, or even outside with you, as a reference and companion for the projects it contains.  Get it dirty, dog ear the pages, use the hell out of it.

For me personally, this book will be a grateful acknowledgment of Maine, of Paris Hill, and of the Parris House.  Without this setting, I would be a different person living a very different life.  That aspect will be strongest to me alone, though, because this book is really written for and focused on you in your place and in your life, be it urban or rural, east coast or west or somewhere in between, in North America or well beyond.

By the time this book is published, we will be gearing up here to offer seasonal quarterly retreats at the Parris House which will provide hands on experiences in fiber art and heritage skills, which will provide more learning opportunities for those who want to expand their making and doing.

Sound interesting?  I was brand-new-author-thrilled when I saw that Rowman & Littlefield had already put up a pre-order page for the book.  You can click on that HERE.   Please remember that publication is not scheduled until 2020.  In the meantime, I’m working hard!

If you would like to keep up to date on everything that’s planned for the next chapter (pun intended), a sign up box for our newsletter is at the bottom of every page of the website.  You will never be spammed.  In fact, the newsletter needs to publish a bit more often (as time allows…or doesn’t…).

For a glimpse of the Parris House homestead, enjoy the pics in the slideshow below.

That’s the big news from here.  Thank you for reading.  – Beth

 

Hooking & Heritage Skills Lessons, On Your Terms

Want to learn to hook?  Already hook and want to learn more?  Or maybe you’d like to learn some other heritage skill?

I recently had a student call the studio and say, “I want to learn to hook, but I want to make my own pattern.  Can you teach me to do that all in one lesson?”  The answer was, “Of course!”  

We will be listing some new regularly scheduled courses for 2019, but maybe you’d like a custom experience too, scheduled at your convenience.  At the Parris House in the National Historic District of Paris Hill, Maine, we teach rug hooking (beginner and specialty topics), wool dyeing, needle felted sachet making, cold process soap making, beginner rug hooking design and pattern making, and more.  If there’s something you’d like to learn, get in touch with us and we’ll make it happen. 

Art, craft, and homesteading classes make great:

friends & family activities

holiday gifts

bridal party or groomsmen gathering activities

birthday celebrations

experiences for college and school students of all ages

special self care treats 

inter-generational learning opportunities

We can create a custom experience at the two century old historic Parris House just for you or your group where you can leave with a memento of the occasion, be it hand crafted soap, a beautiful sachet pillow, a hooked mug rug, plus a new shared pastime. 

To arrange a Parris House learning experience, contact us to get the process started.  We look forward to introducing you to something new!

 

Learning to Trust the Journey – Four Days on the Schooner J&E Riggin

The J&E Riggin in her home port at Rockland, Maine, shortly before we boarded.

As many of you know, I was aboard the Schooner J&E Riggin for four days last week as an organizer and facilitator of 207 Creative‘s Get Hooked at Sea event.  I am sure we’ll do a blog post for the 207 Creatives website or Facebook page on the trip as a hooking retreat and workshop, however, this post is about my personal experiences and insights.  This was my first time on a large sailing vessel, seeing my beloved Maine from an entirely different vantage point and I can honestly say I am changed.  This post is about that.

A bit about the J&E Riggin…

The J&E Riggin is a two masted schooner, 89 feet long (not including the bowsprit), over 20 feet wide, built in New Jersey in 1927 as an oyster harvesting boat on the Delaware Bay.  For its complete history you can go to the beautiful website its owners, husband and wife co-captains Jon Finger and Annie Mahle, have lovingly put together at www.mainewindjammer.com.  One of the most striking things about this schooner is how immaculately restored and maintained it is, in incredibly authentic condition.  It does not have onboard power save for the sails.  When becalmed or when in need of maneuvering in the harbors, it is propelled by a small yawl boat Captain Jon built by hand himself.   The yawl boat is a work of art in itself.  When it’s time for the anchor to be raised, no auxiliary power is employed.  It is raised by the muscle of around four crew and/or volunteers with a gear and lever apparatus.  I tried it.  It’s hard work.  At night, the boat is lit mostly by kerosene lantern.  All of Captain/Chef Annie’s world class meals are prepared in a tiny galley kitchen on a wood burning cook stove.  Annie is a Culinary Institute of America graduate, cook book author, and celebrity chef (she may demur at that last thing, but let’s face it – she is) who has let none of this affect her completely down to earth, generous, and kind demeanor.  The food is…incredible.  Captain Jon, aside from being the captain of our journey, is also an accomplished watercolor artist, musician, and more.  Jon and Annie are the devoted parents of two daughters who were raised, in part, on the Riggin.  Back at home, they keep bees and chickens, and they garden.  Quite a bit of the farm fresh ingredients that made their way in to our meals were from Jon and Annie’s homestead.

The J&E Riggin as she is today is the result of loving stewardship that respects her age, history, and heritage and my respect for Captains Jon and Annie and their equally wonderful crew of five is boundless.  These are hard working people who make their guests not only feel welcome, but feel as though they become a part of the J&E Riggin family in a few short days.

Chef Annie explaining the fine art of eating oysters to the uninitiated. These were, by the way, the very best, sweetest, freshest oysters I’ve ever eaten.

We see a lot of messages in our social media feeds that go something like this:  “Trust the journey.”  “It’s not the destination that matters, it’s the road there.”  “Live in the present, the future is not guaranteed.”  As a fiber art teacher I also often encourage my students to enjoy the process and remain open to the outcome that results, rather than holding an expectation concretely during the making.  At the Squam Art Workshops, where I taught for two years, “process over product” was a mantra.  Indeed, on our Get Hooked at Sea retreat aboard the Riggin, not a single one of us finished our lovely project guided by teacher Maggie Bonanomi, but we were fine with that.  It was about the process, the making, the camaraderie, and we will share our final products with one another over the coming months.  On the J&E Riggin, this concept becomes very literal.  One morning I asked Captain Jon where we were going that day.  He said, “I don’t know!”  And he meant it.

The J&E Riggin’s usual sailing territory for guests is in Maine’s Midcoast Penobscot Bay, approximately between Boothbay and the Acadia area.  Where she sails on any given day is determined by the wind and weather.  Every trip leaves from Rockland, which, as an aside, is my favorite town in Maine.   Rockland is central to those two approximate sailing boundaries and the weather will determine which way Captain Jon takes the Riggin.  It is a “sail to nowhere” and yet, it is very much a sail to somewhere.

For me, that somewhere was a place of revelation.  One comical revelation was that, in spite of not being able to ride in the back seat of a car without turning green, I can be a passenger on a schooner in open water and not feel a single twinge of seasickness.  My bag was packed with a tub of crystallized ginger and two boxes of Dramamine but neither proved necessary.

Other revelations were more serious.  One was how very badly I had needed a trip just like this one, a trip with no set destination and with very limited connection to the news, the internet, and the demands of my every day business life.  Another was my need to spend time with creative and energetic people.  This trip was shared with creative people all around: captains, crew, and guests, who were pursuing something meaningful to them upon which they each made their individual imprints.  The crew, four young men in their twenties and one woman around my age, I believe, were phenomenal examples of extremely gifted people sharing their gifts in ways most people only dream of.  Captains Annie and Jon were unwittingly providing to me an example of sincere and exemplary hospitality that I know I will use as a reference point when we open the Parris House to retreat and workshop guests in 2020.   They refer to their relationship with the J&E Riggin as one of stewardship, not ownership, which resonates with me as we have never claimed ownership of the 200 year old Parris House either.  You can only steward these great old entities while it is your time.  They predate and outlive us if all goes well.

Related was the revelation of just how much I require freedom and space over my life and over my time.  There is a tremendous feeling of freedom when you are a guest on a schooner in the big Penobscot Bay.  I can only speak as a guest because I was well aware of the constraints the captains and crew were under as they make sure every detail of the trip is attended to for us.  As a guest, however, I was able to make the mind blowing observations regarding the power of the wind, the vastness of the ocean (especially when it looks so big, yet we’d not even left the bay), and how small my favorite landmarks looked along the shore.  My perspective on everything was turned upside down/inside out when I was looking at places I’d only seen from land from out on the water.  I realized that there are so many things I’ve never seen before and will probably never see in this lifetime, and with that realization came the knowledge that I had better choose very carefully how I spend my remaining years.  I booked another trip on the Riggin for my husband and myself in 2019 halfway through our voyage.

Fog hanging over the harbor off Warren Island State Park

And then there is just the overall awareness that we do not have to, in fact usually we can not, know our destination for much of our journey in this life.  Our daily journeys, led by Captain Jon, always ended in some beautiful harbor, in fair weather or foul, expected or unexpected, with limited control over the destination because of zero control over the weather.  On the journey, the captain controls what he can in the context of what he can’t.  Sometimes the sailing is relatively blind.  On the first day under sail we were treated to a fog bank.  We could see it on the horizon when we set out and within about an hour we were engulfed in it.  Visibility was low.  The J&E Riggin’s fog signal rang out in to the bay.  Sometimes we could see other vessels just within our visible range, looking like ghost ships.  Other vessels a little further off would have been invisible.  The J&E Riggin is equipped with modern GPS, radar, and radio communication.  It is also equipped with an experienced captain.  Therefore, we were never in danger although we could not see.  It is often human nature to fear when sailing blind, when we don’t know what’s next, but it is actually the essential nature of our lives.  Uncertainty of outcome is a given as long as we can not bend time to see our futures.  What choice do we have when rising in the morning but to answer the question, “Where are we going today?” with “I don’t know!”

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m a list maker, a planner.  I chart out every day, every week, every to-do list.  I make plans and try to follow them.  I act with intention on what I can when I can if not doing so would lead to perceived disaster.  Examples are how I conduct my dearest relationships, my health, my business, my class preparations, my writing, my home.  But those four days as a guest aboard the J&E Riggin persuaded me to loosen the parameters on my life and make time and space for more experiences like that one.  The world will not stop turning if I can’t answer an email within fifteen minutes.   Spending half a day hiking my favorite mountains here in Western Maine might inspire more art pieces and workshop ideas than working away at my desk on something seemingly important but with, in the long run, a weaker return on time invested.  On the Riggin there is a truly beautiful efficiency to everything, and I do mean beautiful.  Nothing is out of place, everything is immaculate, all details and contingencies are planned for, and the result is pure elegance of experience, and yet…uncertainty in destination is not only acknowledged, it is celebrated.  What an example for living.

Here is a slideshow of our trip for your enjoyment.  If you would like to book the trip of a lifetime on the Schooner J&E Riggin go to the website at www.mainewindjammer.com.  Reservations for the 2019 season are being taken now.   For those wondering if we’re working on another Get Hooked at Sea trip, the answer is “Yes!  We are!”  So please watch for posts about that as we figure out the details and timing.

 

 

 

 

Blondie, MassMoCA, the Susan B. Anthony Birthplace, Shaker Museums, Dogs, and the Impossibility of Failure – Part 1

These get explained at the end of Part 2.

Last weekend my husband, Bill, and I took a mini vacation trip out to Western Massachusetts.  The primary reason was that we had tickets to see Blondie at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (MassMoCA), but also, we just really needed to get away.  We secured a cute, super retro (authentically; this was not a hipster re-creation), goin’-to-grandma’s style apartment through Airbnb for the weekend, which turned out to be perfect.  It was in a working class neighborhood of Adams, within sight of the old textile mill where it is probable the building’s original residents, in the 19th century, worked.  There was a huge Catholic church, convent, and school next door, clearly built by Polish immigrants.  This in itself was a small scale immersion in the history of the place and I spent some time online researching the town, its industrial history, and even the streets and buildings that surrounded us.

This trip was a three day, non-stop inspiration fest.  Let’s start with Debbie Harry of Blondie. She is 73 years old.  Her voice is different now, but it is still strong, and her energy level onstage is astonishing.  I went to this concert in large part because I wanted to get away for a weekend and because my husband really loves Blondie and a whole selection of other 80s era music I thought I’d prefer never to hear again.  As it turns out, I truly loved this concert and discovered that Blondie is making new music that I like infinitely better than the old hits.  It didn’t hurt that Debbie Harry came on to the stage wearing a jacket with neon-reflective multicolored honeybees all over it and has recently released an album called “Pollinator.”  The back of the jacket was emblazoned with a…well…blunt message about keeping planet Earth life-sustaining, which I also appreciated.

Debbie Harry and Blondie performing at MassMoCA, August 3rd, 2018

Inspirational messages taken from this experience?

  • Age is a number.  Aside from things beyond your control (truly random illness, accident, and the usual raw deals some people are handed health-wise), decisions you make today may well determine whether you’re literally or metaphorically rocking on stage at 73 or rocking in a chair unable to do much else.
  • Keep working.  Change.  Grow.  “Pollinator” is a great new album that doesn’t sound like previous work.  Debbie Harry and the band are not motoring around a golf course in Florida nor are they only playing the same familiar songs many of their fans probably came to hear.  I hope the work I’m doing even two years from now looks very little like what I’ve been doing for the past five, let alone in twenty years’ time.
  • Wear bright colors at least some of the time, whether you’re 23 or 73.

The next day, we went to MassMoCA.  We had been there about a month before but had been pressed for time and unable to see a lot of the exhibits.  So we went back with a whole day to spend in the museum.  This really was an immersion in every possible sensory exposure to contemporary art.  To be completely honest, I have not always been a fan of contemporary art, but I am coming to realize that I was probably just never looking in the right places.  MassMoCA is a fully engaging  museum of sometimes immediately resonant, sometimes baffling, sometimes repulsive works.  Very little of it left me feeling nothing, although there was a bit of that too.  If anything, though, those pieces – the ones that left me with nothing – were a lesson in the variety of human nature.  To someone, somewhere, they spoke volumes.  One of the exhibits that particularly fascinated Bill fell in to the realm of performance art.  It’s called the Cold Hole.  When unoccupied, it is just a large viewing window looking in to a chamber filled with snow, ice, and a square cutout with a ladder in it leading to frigid cold water.  Anyone who’s done a polar dip for charity in New England knows what it would feel like to jump in to the Cold Hole.  On the day we were there we were lucky to see someone actually jump in.  This act can be done by a museum go-er through special arrangement or by a performance artist, I believe.  I am not 100% sure, but I think on this day we saw a performance artist.

I could write an entire post on what I felt watching this woman as she approached the hole (for which I have no pictures), as she stood over it for quite some time preparing herself for the shock of the water, in that brief moment of free fall in, and as she pulled herself out and walked toward the viewing window.  Always one to create life metaphors, I had many.  I will let you draw your own.  As it is, this post on the weekend overall is going to have to be split in to two for time and length considerations.

The word that kept coming to me as I viewed the art at MassMoCA was “brave.”  As I looked at some of the work, or in some cases, interacted with it, I realized that these artists are incredibly courageous.  Even the work I couldn’t connect with, or, I’m acutely embarrassed to admit struck me as “I could make that…”  (a thought and phrase I abhor, but there I was having it myself), was nonetheless bold.  How many of us would have the courage to make a career of creating objects, sounds, or experiences for others to view that were intensely personal, time consuming, financially risky, and open to amateurs like me gut reacting with, “I could make that…?”  The truth is, I could not “make that.”  I can make what I can make, but not that.  Only that piece’s creator has that ability and honor.  I reacted to most of the art with deep astonishment, appreciation, and some kind of connection, but it doesn’t matter how I – one person – reacted to any of it.  The incredible, head exploding thing to me was the brave vulnerability of the artists, of all kinds, in putting their work out in to the world, saying what they had to say, and accepting both praise and criticism as part of the deal.  The “Mass” in MassMoCA of course stands for “Massachusetts,” but I could not help thinking of it also in terms of the masses of people who visit every year.  It’s a lot of exposure.  These artists should be wearing capes and tights.

These next images are unedited, taken with my cell phone in the museum.  Unfortunately, I can not take the hours today to edit each one of them, but at some point may go back and improve this image set.

 

I would be remiss if I did not mention the coffee shop on the premises, Tunnel City Coffee.  Bill and I went off our diets a little bit, but the scale told me on Monday that no harm was done.  We did split the cookie and the biscotti in to two pieces and shared them.

Delicious pastries and cookies at Tunnel City Coffee, North Adams, MA on the campus of MassMoCA

Inspirational messages taken from this experience?

  • Good coffee is always worth the extra money.
  • Eat the pastry occasionally, preferably with someone dear to you.
  • When you create, do it for you.  Not for the critics.  Not for the fans.  Not for that person who thinks, “I could make that.” For you.
  • Making art is inherently scary sometimes.  Be brave.  You might just find your work in front of millions of people some day.
  • Those last two things may well feel like jumping in to a cold hole.
  • You may often want to give up.  Do not, because at some point someone is going to stand in front of your work with their minds and hearts on fire taking it all in.

So what do you do with a little time to kill in North Adams after you’ve spent the day at MassMoCA?  You go to the Museum of Dog.   This is a little museum that’s only been open for four months.  You can tell that they are still putting it all together, but if a museum has a Rough Collie display like this, I’m happy.  Our Collie, Wyeth, would have been so proud.  We’re definitely taking him back there some day.

Collie display at the Museum of Dog, North Adams, MA.

Inspirational message taken from this experience?

  • Have a dog.
  • Go to the Museum of Dog as they develop and grow.
  • If there’s something you really love, share it with the world.

So, that was Friday night and part of Saturday in Adams and North Adams, Massachusetts.  The next blog post will be about how we spent another part of Saturday and then Sunday at the Susan B. Anthony Birthplace, the Hancock Shaker Village and Museum, and the Mount Lebanon Shaker Historic Site.  Look for that one later this week or weekend.

In the meantime, be inspired, wherever you find yourself.

 

 

 

 

Join Us This Weekend, May 5th & 6th, for the Maine Pottery Tour!

Many of you know that my husband, William Miller, of Sunset Haven Pottery, enjoys making ceramics.  After several years of attending the Maine Pottery Tour, this year he decided to open his own pottery studio to the public and be on the tour instead.  There are at least forty studios on the tour statewide this year.  Make ours one of your stops!

We will be open both days, here at the Parris House, 546 Paris Hill Road, Paris, Maine, from 9 AM to 5 PM.  Here’s what we’ll be offering:

  • Lots of beautiful Sunset Haven Pottery pieces for sale, just in time for Mother’s Day
  • Pottery studio tours and demonstrations
  • A chance to try your hand at the pottery wheel if you’d like
  • Refreshments
  • A raffle to win a piece of Sunset Haven Pottery

So come on out and join us to see what happens at the Parris House that’s not fiber art, for a change!

Watch the slideshow below for a preview of what we’ll have available.

 

Have You Signed up for the 2018 Belfast Hook In in Belfast, Maine? Read On for Details…

This is a reblog from www.207creatives.com.  If you don’t follow the blog over there, please do!

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We’ve been fielding a lot of questions about when this year’s Belfast Hook In would be and about how to sign up.  Here are the answers!

This year’s event will take place on Saturday, April 28th, 2018 from 9 am to 3 pm.  We will be gathering again at the First Church of Belfast, 8 Court Street, Belfast, Maine.

me and my hoopWe are so pleased to announce that this year’s guest speaker is Doreen Frost of Vermont Harvest Folk Art!  She will be speaking on The Art of Punch Needle Embroidery.

Doreen’s full bio can be found here, but she is an accomplished folk artist and author from Pawlet, VT who creates marvelous designs and finished pieces in punch needle embroidery.  This is a different art than punch needle rug hooking, instead using fine fiber threads and very fine punch needles.   We are looking forward to hearing her speak about her inspirations, her art, and her techniques.  She will also be available for questions and have materials for sale if you are already a maker in this craft or would like to become one!  Please visit her site at http://www.vermontharvestfolkart.com for more information and a look at her beautiful and original artwork.

As before, we will have an informal rug show and our breakfast and lunch will once more be provided by the friendly chefs of For the Love of Food and Drink.   We will have vendors and door prizes, and of course, lots of wonderful camaraderie as we gather again to celebrate our heritage craft.

Ready to sign up?  You can find and print the registration form here, or, contact us at 207creatives@gmail.com, or, call Beth Miller at 207-890-8490.   Need a flyer to rally your friends?  Click here.  In response to feedback from last year’s event we are capping attendance at 96 this year, so please register soon!  Registration is $38 before March 1st, $40 thereafter.  Registration deadline is April 21st.

 

An Idea for Coming Years

Here at the Parris House we are almost-empty-nesters.  All of our sons are grown, but our second son, James, is temporarily home teaching biology and environmental science at a nearby private school before he makes a big and permanent move to Canada.  Our oldest son, Robert, is getting married in September and has been living in the Philadelphia area for years now.  Our two undergrads, Peter and Paul, are always doing co-ops, internships, and research with profs during the summers and no longer come home except for holidays and short visits.  Upon graduation from college, they will have permanently flown the nest also.

As it has for many empty nesters living in old houses like ours, it has occurred to my husband, Bill, and I, that a five bedroom, four bath, approximately 5000 square foot, 200 year old house and barn – no matter how well loved and historic – is an awful lot for two people to wander around in.  The options become many.  Downsize?  Make the addition in to an apartment for visiting family and Airbnb guests?  Or something else?

There is a lot to be said for keeping the Parris House.  We like our neighborhood (most of the time…), we love the history of the house and we feel responsible for stewarding that.  We raised a pretty happy family here and would like to give our future grandchildren the benefit of visits to “where Dad grew up.”  It is a significant but not insurmountable thing that Parris House Wool Works is named for this location.  Both my public and private studios are in this complex of buildings, the former in the main house and the latter over the garage.  My husband’s pottery studio (Sunset Haven Pottery) is established in a finished, heated section of the barn, with the kilns conveniently next door in the garage.  We have very good locations for our chickens, bees, and organic garden.  We have enough apple trees to produce an abundant crop without so many that they are another big job to do.  We are not down a long driveway, nor are we secluded, which, for me at this stage of life are drawbacks, but perhaps when I am 80 or 90 could be beneficial.

Perhaps the biggest factor in favor of keeping it is that my husband is a very change averse human being by nature.  While I am always up for a move, an adventure, a big change, a “let’s chuck this all in and…,” he is decidedly not.  The move from his home state of NJ to Maine was a very big deal for him, and moving from our home now of eighteen years to another, even if smaller, easier to manage, much cheaper to heat, and closer to work for him (but probably not newer – just not a big fan of non-antique homes), does not seem to appeal.

We have had a great deal of success with Airbnb for our Little Sebago Lake cottage, Sunset Haven.  Several years ago I put together a small, exclusive hooking retreat there over a September weekend and I do believe a good time was had by all.  We had a guest teacher, we went on a nature walk, we hooked, we ate lobster, and we laughed a lot.  As Airbnb Superhosts, we get a lot of email from Airbnb.  Recently we learned that some hosts do Airbnb Experiences, which are value added stays at some of the destinations.  Hosts provide a class, an activity, a tour of the area, or something similar as part of the stay.  It’s an intriguing idea and not unlike ideas that have occurred to me in the past for both Sunset Haven and the Parris House.

When we first purchased the Parris House the most common exclamation from our friends back home was, “You could have a B&B!,” to which our most common answer was, “Hell, NO!”  But there’s a compromise solution in there somewhere between a full time B&B and a set of lovely rooms and bathrooms sitting empty and gathering dust.

Currently the upstairs at the Parris House looks like it houses four young men, because that’s what it’s been doing for the past eighteen years.  But with the application of fresh paint, some careful vintage furniture shopping (I’m looking at you, My Sister’s Garage), and a program of wonderful weekend activities along with home cooked meals (thank you, Parris House hens, bees, and gardens), a retreat center could easily take shape.   Bill and I are both Registered Maine Guides and beekeepers, he is a Reiki Master, soap maker, chicken keeper, and a potter (when he’s not at his professional job as the Controller for a Lewiston firm), and, obviously, I am a fiber artist, gardener, and hopefully by then, a published author.  Together we have a skill set that could keep guests entertained and relaxed for a weekend away, and it would also be imperative to bring in guest teachers for additional class offerings.  During non-class or activity hours, guests could assist with the daily tasks of gathering eggs and picking vegetables, take a turn in the beehives, pick apples, light the wood stoves, or, alternatively, they could do none of these things and simply knit, hook, read, or go out and sight see.   Click through the slideshow below to see some scenes from the Parris House and Paris Hill Village.

For skiing we are close to Sunday River, Shawnee Peak, and Mount Abram ski areas.  Hiking and trail walking/running are abundantly available, including at the Cornwall Preserve right down the street and the Roberts Farm Preserve in Norway.  Norway Downtown provides shopping and great restaurants including Norway Brewing Company, 76 Pleasant Street, Cafe Nomad, and more.  Also there for fiber enthusiasts and makers is Fiber & Vine and the Folk Art Studio there.   Within the National Historic District of Paris Hill, just a short walk, you can golf at the nine hole Paris Hill Country Club which also has a cafe, or explore the Hamlin Memorial Library & Museum and the Paris Hill Historical Society.   For those so inclined, the Oxford Casino is about ten miles away.  There is also public access to Norway Lake, about seven miles away.

At most, the Parris House will sleep seven.  There are three available bedrooms that will take two-person beds for couples (or singles to have more space!) and one, my favorite, that is a beautiful, vintage refuge for one.  There are two baths that would be shared between the four bedrooms, one with laundry facilities.  The fifth bedroom and bath would be for us and is with my work studio.  So full retreat weekends would be somewhat exclusive because of that space limitation, although there are possible options for lodging elsewhere in the village as well.  We are thinking these retreats could run, at first, once a quarter, and if they are well attended and in demand, perhaps more often, but that would be a lot to commit to from this time distance.

This is where you come in.  Give us your feedback.  Do you like the idea?  Is this something that you could realistically see yourself doing?  What classes and activities would you like to see offered? What seasons would be your favorites for a retreat?   How far would you travel for a weekend away at the Parris House?  Would you also like to see us run another retreat at Sunset Haven?

These retreats could not be offered before 2019, possibly even 2020, so this is some long range planning, but we were just interested to see what kind of response the idea brought.

In other news, I think there’s a football game or something on today.  If you are a football fan, enjoy the day, and happy hooking! – Beth

2017 Paris Hill Hook In – Thanks to All Who Made It a Great Day!

 

On Saturday, November 4th, we had our Fifth Annual Paris Hill Hook In and I would say it was a great success.  We changed things up quite a bit this year.  Responding to feedback from hook ins that I’ve been an organizer and/or a vendor for, we reduced the number of guests from 62 to 50 this year in an effort to give everyone more space.  We also went from three vendors to four.  These are, to be honest, risky steps to take from the business side of conducting a hook-in, however, I would say that a good day was had by all and we plan to continue with these changes in coming years.

I would like to extend a bunch of “thank-yous” to the many people who made the day a success.

  • Firstly, I’d like to thank our guests for once again supporting this event, supporting our vendors, and being the reason the Paris Hill Hook In exists at all.  Thank you, all!
  • My husband, Bill, and 24 year old son, James, gave a herculean amount of assistance in setting up and then breaking down the hall.  They did lots of hauling, moving, and configuring on both ends of the event and I am very grateful for the help.
  • I’d like to thank the First Baptist Church of Paris and its Pastor Mary Beth Caffey for once again welcoming our event to their beautiful venue.  Given the choice between getting a larger venue to make space or scaling down, I chose scaling down because I believe traditional hooking events, in venues with history, character, and grace are becoming rare.  Our hooking heritage includes gathering in small, community spaces and supporting our home towns and villages.  Because First Baptist Church is willing to have us every year, we can continue that tradition.
  • For the Love of Food & Drink, our caterers, knocked it out of the park again with an outstandingly delicious breakfast and lunch.   Their kindness, conscientiousness, skill, and culinary excellence are a major part of what makes this event successful.
  • Our vendors are amazing!  A huge thank you to Connie Fletcher of Seven Gables Rug Hooking, Ellen Marshall of Two Cats and Dog Hooking, and Cherylyn Brubaker of Hooked Treasures.  And, of course, I was vending there too, and am very appreciative of everyone who shopped at my table yesterday.  Did you miss the event this year?  Click on all of our shop or web pages and shop the wonderful wares, just in time for the holiday season!

I am never able to get really great pictures at an event I’m personally running, so please excuse the lack of precision here.  However, you will get a feel for how the event unfolded and hopefully see some faces you are familiar with.  (To advance the slideshows, click on the arrows to the sides.)

Here are the pictures from setting up the day before.  The church was so silent, in contrast to the busyness that characterizes the actual event.

And here are the pictures from the day, complete with beautiful sunrise over Paris Hill.

Finally, here are the rug show pictures.  I was concerned that by scaling this event down the rug show would suffer, but no.  Our guests delivered with a great number and variety of rugs.  It goes without saying here that any design you see may not be copied without the artist’s/designer’s permission, so if there’s one you just love and want to track down ownership of, send me a message and I can try to get that information.  Some of them I know right off because they are either my design and/or hooked by one of the Parris House Hookers/Tuesday Group members, but others I’d need to make a few contacts on.

Were you there at the Fifth Annual Paris Hill Hook In?  We’d love to see your pics and hear your comments too.  Remember, if you are using social media to post about the event, include the hashtag #parishillhookin so that we can all find one another’s posts.

Thanks to all, again, and keep an eye on the website’s Paris Hill Hook In tab for information about next year’s event.

Happy hooking! – Beth