From here...since it seems to me that the tendency to lean implies flow and sympathy with that.
I find myself taking the opportunity to condense what I have here by putting, now stitching, one thing that I might like a lot over another that I need to let go of. In this way nothing is really lost, but there is less. At least it seems that way. Therefore feeding my tendency to crave more space. And the tendency toward being obsessed with one thing becoming another. Over and over.
Not new things, just patching them together to make them useful.
The top from an old garlic keeper. Clay. The bottom broke. I had to grind the holes a bit larger to fit the incense sticks.
The little jug, an old mustard crock. From a time when I was into mustard. Now I am just into crocks.
The blue bowl, Dad bought in New Mexico. My parents used to go camping across the States. And my dad used to seek out this particular potter. He used to sell somewhere out there. Blue bowls. I took one after Mom died. My brother has the others.
The cloth... Nine for Peace. Now aka A Newer World Order. Part of the Crossroads series.
I am thinking a lot about which things I will keep when we move. We want to stay loose and light.
Over the quiet time in December, I stitched a little on this cloth. It is an oldie. Goes back to a simpler time, one of my earlier what-ifs. Like many cloths rolled and stored, it surprised me a bit. It is not large, about 22 inches square. And it is more "quilterly". Like things I was making back then, I put it away for that reason actually. I felt I had outgrown that I think. I was swept up into something and lost touch with work that didn't seem to fit that ideal. Still, after sitting with it for a few days I came to know it again. As me. And wondered who was I? Who am I? Who will I be? I added to it. Like the line of text above. It once was something about edges. I can't remember exactly but the edge that was is no longer the edge that is now. Which makes the words edge that are floating around rather funny actually. Some of the other edge words were removed and used for edges of other things as I recall. So it was edgeless for a while as I was on to something else...Many something elses.
Thinking about edges today. How sometimes we use them to define finished. In between. Use them like fences. To mark a safety zone. A boundary. To compare. Measure. To stop. To accuse. To reassure. To look back. To go forward. And even to make time stand still.
In this year after The Year I Became Old I feel the need to erase my sense of edge. The line, that is, that separates things in my mind and encourages fragmentation. Comparison. Judgement.
I only have a sense of this. So that is all I can say.
Except I added this today. And made a note to self...I am the edge....
Pulled Across Moons is a good name I think. I like this one very much.
And it is raining again. And then it will snow. And rain. And then snow again. With a little rain mixed in. December soup. I think there might be some sun on Friday. Soul-o hid my little Solstice Cloth. When I find it I will talk about it.
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.