It was Dad that taught me what little I've been taught about composition.
Or perhaps I just remember it that way. What's been useful to me.
Art school was not useful to me. Maybe because I was distracted. I think it reminded me of high school, where all my self esteem got jumbled up with competition. And pimples.
This, that Stray Abstraction, turned out to be more of a Stray Distraction. From anything and everything. Maybe CobbleCloth might come to mean just that. Patching a daydream. With a basket of misfits, and a little time to consider. Even the stitching was done using short threads from the nest (the original ThreadCrumbs). The parts are all there I suppose, floating in the fog of mood.
And I am. Free falling. Through this month of February. Knowing I will land somewhere eventually. And keep going.
The roof is not fixed. We've been informed we need to wait until the temperatures rise. And it needs to be the whole roof. We will cobble together a new plan. Think outside the box.