Spirit Cloth

How and Why. What. Continued...

It was a long noisy process but it went well. The large white oak was tall and had split into multiple trunks, maybe 5 or 6.  They came with a bucket truck and wove in and out of the power lines, slowly snipping the branches, dropping them carefully until the danger was past. The tree had been most likely damaged by gypsy moths, I have been though that before.  But the wood was mostly good, so maybe not that long ago. We might had left it standing had it not been so close to the wires and the house.  They also cut a lot of the fallen trees here outside the kitchen window.  More good wood and now clearing the way to the layered stone rimmed ridges that go back to the stone walls.  There is real wild garden potential here. That cedar which was hardly visible before will be much happier. There is more air and light and open paths to walk. 

I was talking about the lion quilt yesterday. Remembering how it came together. And then not so much why I made it but why it seems important and what it became and then what it has become.

I got interrupted yesterday, which has me on a side trip this morning. After Henrietta asked if I had the drawings of the lions. So I will just talk for a moment.

Link to audio if you see no player below.

And just now, rewriting history I guess, a new loose page, overwritten, to make it useful in the moment. Now motivated to tear up the past and use it to patch the present, make way for the future. Regenerate.

I will start with noting A Field of Color. As a start. As a Base. Considering A full Spectrum of them. I can use them to explain. And they can be used as blankets for little people. Ok. Which color should I begin with. Green?

Slow ClothWork

At Eye level... I was thinking. 

So many cloths to be hung, I said to myself, not considered finished. Not including the Sanity Series which needs to remain rolled for the moment. That's a private collection.  My purpose was to look, touch, maybe stitch, and then let go.  Making space for big cloth. Big cloth going forward. 

But now I want to look at all of them. Feel the volume of them. Feel the scope of them. Feel them. Gather their stories. And most importantly, see them as Patches. Puzzle Pieces. I will not have enough space I say. But then there is the basement. And the clothes lines. The ceiling?  Oh ha! Let it all unroll then. The big, the small. All.

It has begun in some organized way, but it will soon fall away into some sort of dervish.

Feels so Good.

I think I will put some music on.

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. 

Late August Patchwork

Acorns have been falling.

Mostly encouraged by squirrels.

I've been thinking about my folks. It always comes in between seasons. The two acorns reminded me of them. Together. Through whatever was.

Yes it's been a bit cooler. But this week will be hotter still. And humid. I always remember the late heat that often coincided with going back to school. The hot un-airconditioned classrooms. The difficulty concentrating. How Dad would be home waiting to whisk us off to the beach for a late swim. Like a little bit extra summer vacation.

 

I stitched a moon cabin. Because I am preparing for my Patchwork in Perspective. I'm looking back fondly at  my patched past. Gathering. Documenting. Reconsidering its use to give it wholeness. There's a bit of Mom's wedding dress in there. The silk velvet. Dyed blue like the old sky. She gave it to me and said make something out of it, make it useful. I could have altered it and made it into a dress. But I don't much wear dresses. I like it better like this. Holding the late August moon. For all of us. Part of the bigger basket.