A predisposition to think, act, or proceed in a particular way.
How Sanity (as I am trying to define it, in small deliberate steps) might in some way be a modification on that.
Anyway, yesterday I got to thinking. While out hacking away at some old root-ball I was trying to remove from the garden. It was such a dense mass beneath the surface. Nothing would grow there. It seemed small initially but as I dug... well it took hours and I ended up with some unidentifiable tangle of plant threads and a Big Hole.
I had a green liquid lunch. Then stitched this.
Another nine. With a black center. A black hole block (component). (What if a black hole could be square?)
This might beNine for the Tendency to be Sucked In. Ha! Yes. (I could make a political comment here. About Her. But I will keep it to myself.)
Now my thoughts turn to concentration. Concentrating thought. Art might be, in some way, related to that that. Simply that. I think.
I used a focal zoom effect on one section (about 30" square) of the perpetual grid cloth (I am working in sections, but more about that later) after adding the black hole block. I like how the black hole became the center and everything else is radiating outward. Here a black hole is something positively negative. And an eye of a storm.
An unexpected storm of storms last night. Power went down but returned before we could enjoy it. We are so prepared for that situation now, we wait with glee.
I love this picture. It is taken through the screen which stays up all year long now. From the sleep loft as the sun came up and the big wind subsided. And I like it because of the gridded layer. And perspective in that. How it divides space. Many of my old unpublished (so far) illustrations from a simpler time have this grid layer in them. I think about it more now. In some more meaningful way. Just starting to merge the young and old of me. As the grid perpetuates.
And there was a question about how we pull out of us what is in us. Yesterday. And I drew this.
I think the next eye should be in there. I like this for the seam is a vulnerable place. I like that the stray self is itself as cloth. I love that a seam might run through me. That I might be mended. Later but also from long ago. I liked that coming apart at the seams could be interpreted as a learning process. That the question and knowing could be the same. That the space opened is in the shape of an eye. That I might pull the ragged seam allowance outward in this section, That this part will be "inside out". That seam allowance might, could, acquire a very beautiful meaning here.
The sun is out. Sometimes a storm can simply wash away uncertainty. And leave you with a lot of kindling.
I could just stitch it back up, insides hanging out as evidence of a normally hidden layer. Of going. Without batting.
This cloth offers so much to look at. Touch. Probably I will spend the a lot of time doing that. Before I consider altering it in any way. I did a lot of cutting into and mending on this one. Good practice. Especially the cutting. It helped me understand my relationship with ThingNess. Soften it.
Soul-o on the other hand...
Is a ripper-upper by nature.
And me, a patcher.
High Summer is setting in. Plans have solidified. I will be away for most of August. For those of you subscribed to Small Journeys, I will be closing the series at the end of this month, a few weeks earlier than planned because life has spoken.
This weekend is my brother's birthday so I will get myself in gear and makes some food for a small gathering planned for tomorrow.
I took some pictures of the moon through the trees. And even though I couldn't get the camera setting right, I liked them. Like ragged holes in the sky.
They reminded me of these. Holes in the earth.
Which on this cloth are also holes in the sky.
This morning the cloth we call home was a curtain. Hanging between me and the bright morning sun. Useful. Shielding me. But at the same time filtering through the cloth to help me complete this Ring of Vision.
It is interesting to be mending the cloth with holes. New eyes. Space. Less.
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