This new camera is different. I have to think more about how pictures work.
The moth was on the window through which this picture was taken. I meant to focus on that. Too close to be in focus without fiddling with settings, . I like how it is confusing for a moment. I think the moth seems bigger because it is blurry. And instead of out of focus it seems to be The Focus here. Funny thing, focus.
Since that is all out of the way I will use the day to Unclutter the big wall.
The one that is big enough to hang the Feather Cloth. Just about.
Undo winter's scenery.
The cold room which is not so cold now. Leftovers and new thoughts caught, pinned, kept out of reach. Safe from paws and claws. The cold room was often Soul-o's playground. No furniture, just space. And walls filled with stuff I didn't want to lose track of.
I am thinking about walls today as I rearrange. Walls are Pages. With this thought comes new (old) eyes.
Yesterday - spent figuring out video on the new camera. Different. Learning.
Today - clearing some space to hang a big cloth for the last time. To Look at it on the wall. Turn that page.
And what a fool I was to think Spring would never come.
It's been a hard winter. Maybe not just the weather. Maybe a little bit me. My own winter. A chill that ran through me. April marks a kind of renewed energy then... and a break from small to something larger. The Magic Feather Cloth needs to be Unrolled. Held. Set free.
It is hard to just say. Explain. Why I could not work on it these last months. All I can say is that I need to be in a very special state of openness. And it wasn't there. And now it is.
April. A break then. From Small Journeys. I will be sharing the final work on the cloth I call Home. Here. On the blog. It belongs to all of us. We the PieceMakers and Dreamers of hope and healing.
There is a bunch of thin cloth hanging between the drafty kitchen and the room we heat. The kitchen is between the studio and that warm room. I replaced the heavier one because I just couldn't stand not to have some light coming through. It helps to hold the heat. With an occasional cool breeze.
Soul-o loves it. He chases shadows and runs back and forth between the sections, especially at night when the firelight makes it seem like a dense fog in the wind.
March is a bit like a curtain between seasons. The kind you cannot pull back to see more clearly. More like a fog that lifts on it's own accord. And it's been hanging there.
I placed a square of very thin cloth (I used to test the indigo vat) over the patchwork from last week. I like what it did to the grid. It erased the lines. Made a window. But didn't destroy the sense of order. The thought. In my mind I can see through it.