Art might simply be the awareness of how we might create self. That we do. What happens, and then, what we do about it. The story. And the expression of that.
Today mySelf stands with a basket of need , just that, SomeWhere, miles from NoWhere. From dreaming, into waking, still feeling the way forward with sure stepping. Many undoings will just make the Less more than enough. ( TYiBO 2013)
The once named Magic Feather Coat, also known as Without End hangs there.
A small tear along the neckband needs attention. I am admiring its staying power just a little longer. I have decided to alter this garment a bit. Well, a lot. Let it become a curtain, maybe, or a blanket. Let it be more useful. I have too many robes.
The less I have, the less I need. (she thought to herself, finding the time to jot that down) Perhaps simplicity is all about transformation, the clarity in that. Perhaps transformation is simply making do. A form of recycling, re-self-ing, sympathetic evolution? Becoming what you need to. How is it we come to need more while celebrating less. In these years of the revival of mending and celebrating making do, it seems it has all become about art, business and money and not at all about what it is.
An unspeakable sadness washed over me while walking yesterday. Not the kind that poisons you, but the kind that enriches. Something quite clear but without words. It will stay like that I suppose, until it becomes something utter-able. Until then I will just try to keep wandering off. Walking about. Let my journey become itself. ( TYiBO 2013 j.a.h )
Saskia has been living her life and also letting her work become quite simple with a deepening sense of quiet and confidence I can clearly admire. She shares her work over at Diaries but also on her blog. I really like this. If you stop by, please do, say hi for me.
And green turns to gold slowly. Like it does after nights turn cold. On this , day 5, of splitting and stacking wood, we have more than enough homegrown firewood ready. A wind-fallen gift from the Really Big Storm last year.Gathered. Made useful
And after 5 layers of dyeing, this old thin rag has come full circle. It is like a little stew. Some pomegranate and indigo and walnut, but my favorite part is the pink tinge from the avocado pit resist.
As a tree. As a river. A mother. A large cloth becomes a world. I feel smaller when I sit with it. Yet safer.
Sitting yesterday, with some thoughts that often come quietly. The enormity of this project, How to get there. Life, death, change. And now the cloth itself has body. It comes together but It is not easy. It is carrying me. Through my own life issues. As I transition to a new place. Perhaps I am testing the cloth's power to heal, to hold, to become a flight path. To say it's OK. I look and touch and sense evidence of great goings. Flowings. Transformations. Shared. The load lightened.
And it came back. The reassurance. That it is not about Art. No, it is about Heart. She cut that string. She did not fall. What a relief.