Spirit Cloth

Bigger Cloth, higher ground

For a while, smaller cloth.

But the unrolling has been a reminder.

Coma here again, still ragged and raw, still holding together after years and years.

A documentary, a teacher, a blanket, a world. A timekeeper. A journal. An open heart.

Something as simple a upside down (or inside-out)patchwork. That thought caught, tried. Tested. Remembered in the wee hours of a cold rainy morning. An unfinished wishing star that says it doesn't matter. An early Deb Lacativa dyed cloth that celebrates a friendship. Actually I remember where all the cloth came from. And some old classes when some of this happened. 

Large cloth is where I began. Spirit Cloth. The blankets, the gift giving. The long, slow journey with cloth making. Because it is a story, it keeps going. A reminder of that.

I like working small. Firstly because if you are working with scrap, you have to begin there. You need small to build big.  And small is endearing. Portable and easy to manage. Good for practice.  But there is another reason to work small and that is if you are so inclined, selling is easier. Finishing is easier, letting go is easier. A large cloth is never selfish.

I've been here before, reconsidering large cloth, but I am here again. In a new frame of mind. Unrolling the bigger ones. They are like Pandora's Box. In reverse.

This house is a split level. I never liked them much. But there are highs and lows. Which offer new perspectives. 

Still Lives

 

Just for a moment...

He is still there. I should name him, her? How do I tell? When do the males grow antlers?

Here I am this morning, living life with out Googling. Maybe you just know.  I left my encyclopedia behind. There were kids. Maybe they might know what that is at least.

We have a hallway. Haven't had a hallway since childhood. I was wondering why they called it a runner. It runs the length of the hallway?Soul-o (in a still moment)says, no. You run into it fast down the hallway. Slide. That's his stick in the foreground. I brought it in from outside, and he just loves it. 

Coma cloth in low light, Beasts still waiting for more stitch. 

The Here and There

 

The morning, which is often violet here, is here.

I am here.

in the violet morning

During coffee, colors separate.

He has spent much time considering  There.

I remembered my Father's words, out loud, "when you get there there's no there there jude"

And Here he settled.

So we are Here, with plans, but not There yet.

Happy New year all. May Here always be enough.

Coma. 

The Coma Cloth was made to express a kind of shift in consciousness.

However I fold her, she seems to transform.

I use that to address stress. Remind myself to adjust.

I will not be able to post in Patchwork in Perspective today.  So class is most likely postponed until next Wednesday unless a window of time is suddenly realized.  Thank you for your patience.