Like a good strong cloth, ones character is built up in layers, each ripping apart encouraging the reconsidering of how that happened, how it might hold together. Trying to understand that. Tending toone tiny tearing might teach us many things. About cloth. About self. About others.
It's a rocking back and forth. A pulling apart, a looking ( so much part of it, the pause), a putting back together. On and on. Like a heartbeat. The way it is. Simply necessary. Exhausting.. but Everything. The Story.
I will be away for a week or so, reconsidering entertainment in this one room we are heating for the winter. I've put the registration for What If Diaries #2 on hold for a bit till things quiet down. More time to consider it all.
Sitting here in this one room that we are heating for the winter. Sitting here talking to myself a lot more as I work. And look. And grow older. Different now that I purposely reversed the habit of video and audio when, as I talk to myself, I am really talking to others. So conscious of how different that actually is. Turned out to be. How long I have tried to consider it the same, make it that way. But it isn't. Hasn't been. I ask myself, once again, could it be?
Why doesn't it become that? Does it need to?
The hearts on this one seemed very trite this morning. I thought about heart. Heart as core. Also heart as shield. Then, can one heart really touch another. Without something more than just proximity, pull. Alliance?.
I thought, take them off. They are too...too common place. Empty. I cut. I reconsidered how one heart might affect another. And the symbol itself as an easy language component.
Honesty. How uncommon it is. How it is the ultimate gift. How ever much it might hurt.
Still it is there to offer isn't it? Shall we or not? In this past year that I grew old, I realized more clearly that I wasn't born yesterday. I have many things noticed, realized, yet unspoken. For fear, Just Maybe, of ripping hearts open. Maybe even my own.
Today is a big day in a small room with many questions.
The walls in this room that we are heating are plaster. Tacking things up on them is not really possible. The magic cloth is nailed up there for a while now. I pinned some blank cloth up there as a temporary What If (?) wall. Because I like to be surrounded by little experiments while I am working on a big cloth. It helps me make distractions into more meaningful small journeys.
Sometimes a large cloth can inspire a small cloth. Sometimes it is the other way around. Some times a little trial for a small thought or question can turn into a work all by itself. Or become part of a larger work. Sometimes I just need a break. Whatever it is or however it might happen is all part of it. But having the chaos visible helps me to see the connections of how it goes. Or how it might go.
So this little cloth that I started in Sun Moon Stars and worked on a bit in Diaries, and was calling How One Heart might affect Another (and still am) even though it started out as a little solstice cloth.... well I just felt like stitching on it today. To re-experiment with what I call the coma effect on a smaller cloth (Coma being one of my larger ones that hangs on the other wall here). And well it is about a shift in perception and it so much related to a sense of safety or not, I just thought it was good for me to think about that today. Before I sit with HOME tonight. Side trips can still get you where you might be thinking of going.
I have an awful lot of words lately. I wonder why that is.
I will be opening up the shop in a week or so, not sure if there will be much new work for sale, but the work on your own online classes will be available again. Since some of you were asking. I also hope to finish updating my links page, PlaceKeeper, and it will pop back up soon. As always, thanks for your continued patience with my many moods. There will be no shortage of them.
As the winter moves in I look. Sometimes there is a big snow . Everything just seems to disappear. But more often and more interesting is the frost, or that surprisingly thin layer of white you might wake up to without notice. The skin of cold that coats the remnants of a season past. The skeleton of warmth and life is almost celebrated in the texture of frozen time. Giving pause.
I called this one the Tendency to Pull Together. Now aka White Love. Named for the reason of explaining how I feel when I look at it. What I imagined while making it. How I might explain a certain kind of persistence. How season might accentuate that. It has remained untouched for months now as my focus on white over at Diaries has taken a rest. But today the story is as clear as the day is cold. I say to myself... the tendency to pull together. It is always there. Through thick and thin. Rests, perhaps dormant, waiting for a thaw. But always there underneath.
There is no frost, no snow today. But there is this cloth that reminds me.