I love this still life with cloth below. I like these kinds of pictures in general. Today this says so much of my truth. How I am rocking back and forth between the day and cloth. Between doing and undoing. How one becomes the other. More or less. And I love how the shadow near the cloth is really the light from this glorious October morn.
It is comforting, this unrolling, and rolling back into old stories, refreshing them in a way with new touches of thread. Making bigger pictures out of them in a way. Simply by feeling the time that has passed.
So this cloth which was originally part of a stitched base called Something about Earth, and then Miles from Nowhere, was split in half and was the leftover when Button Face claimed the other half as Wilderness. It evolved into a new journey which I called A dream without words for a while. Because I had none. At one point a woven self appeared. Which really made it not just anywhere but Somewhere. Now that thing (which takes forever to stitch,by the way)that runs through her. Me. That thing has shown evidence of growth. Today it seem a bit like a tree. I might call it looking for self and finding her. Or maybe Everywhere.
Just paring it down. Looking at the parts of things. (UnDoing is really a kind of Doing she reminds herself.) A kind of less that is more. Considering what you see. This Great Undoing that crept in a while back.... it has been resting. UnDoing takes time. Energy.
And so , as the result of a small journey many small journeys, a new symbol. Still rooted in traditional patchwork. Still square. Time. I am keeping track of all these symbols. They are part of an evolving picture language. A kind of personal puzzle piece system. Because through image, I find words. I know that about myself.
Time, it seems, is loosely at the center of this piece. Which, yes, I spent time stitching on last night. Adding a few stitches and that thing that runs through it. Which at first seemed like wind.
I love that I can say this one is UnDone.
This one is UnDone!
So no longer the year of the Great UnDoing. The time (in my life) of the Great UnDoing. I undid the calendar a long time ago.