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News and Blog

Posted 1/9/2011 10:28pm by Eugene Wyatt.

On the way to the farm I was struck by the vastness of the fiery sky; but I realized I couldn't get to the sheep before the sun had gotten too low to photograph this ever furtive light behind them.  As I drove toward the sun, the colors evolved, the dark clouds were ablaze as if an arsonist had torched the sky.

Beauty is communal, it must be shared to be realized.  There was a sense of aloneness to this splendor; there was a need to picture it, to tell someone about it.

Posted 1/9/2011 7:24pm by Eugene Wyatt.

@kimmiechem2 came by the stand this last Saturday so I could take a photo of her hat knit from a Cochineal dyed yarn and her two scarves that were knit from Indigo overdyes; the teal was Indigo over Weld and the blue with pink accents was Indigo over Cochineal.  Lovely, lovely work.

A close up of the basket weave scarf.

Not a knitter me, but I like to see what others have done with wool from the sheep that I raise and with the yarn that I've dyed.  That's why I do what I do.  

Also it's an exciting learning experience for to me to see how knitters put colors together; as she holds  her scarf over yarn she buys for future projects: a Weld, an Osage/Logwood and a more purple Indigo overdye of Cochineal.

Thank you.  And it's really fun to meet people from Twitter; it feels like you're meeting celebrities.

Posted 1/9/2011 9:02am by Eugene Wyatt.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

W. B. Yeats, 1919.

Posted 1/7/2011 5:16pm by Eugene Wyatt.

Sheep like snow; they eat it rather than drink from their water tub.

Posted 1/6/2011 8:30pm by Eugene Wyatt.

A ten month old purebred Saxon Merino ewe lamb with an average fiber diameter of 14 microns. 

Good sheep like this one know they're good.  They're royal.  I don't know how they know but they know.  She's got that look; and like royalty, she treats you as her equal.  You'll always be indebted to her, you'll never be as pure as she is. 

Posted 1/6/2011 8:25pm by Eugene Wyatt.

We've moved.  For the Winter and Spring of 2011 you'll find us in Saturday's Greenmarket next to Hawthorne Valley between 16th St & 17th St.

Posted 1/6/2011 4:48pm by Eugene Wyatt.

Baron de Charlus:

His voice rose. "It reminds me of a room in the Château of Blois where the caretaker who was showing me over said: ‘This is where Mary Stuart used to say her prayers; I use it to keep my brooms in.’ Naturally I wish to know nothing more of this house that has let itself be dishonoured, any more than of my cousin Clara de Chimay after she left her husband. But I keep a photograph of the house, when it was still unspoiled, just as I keep one of the Princess before her large eyes had learned to gaze on anyone but my cousin. A photograph acquires something of the dignity which it ordinarily lacks when it ceases to be a reproduction of reality and shows us things that no longer exist."

À l'Ombre des Jeunes Filles en Fleurs Vol. 2 of À la Recherche du Temps Perdu, Marcel Proust 1919; translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff 1922.

Posted 1/6/2011 4:40pm by Eugene Wyatt.

File:Nadar 1.jpg

Sarah Bernhardt (October 22, 1844 – March 26, 1923) was a French stage and early film actress, and has been referred to as "the most famous actress the world has ever known".  Photograph by Nadar.

In À la Recherche du Temps Perdu she is mentioned by her real name and as the fictional Berma, an actress that Marcel is finally taken to see in a matinee by his grandmother.

Posted 1/5/2011 4:53pm by Eugene Wyatt.

While it's still light out I go look at the sheep making sure they are ready for the night and I always take my camera.

Posted 1/3/2011 5:35pm by Eugene Wyatt.