The walls here are filled with pin holes.
From tacking up my work. For about 15 years now.
That's lot of looking.
I cannot take these walls with me.
? What if I can?
I took a photo, printed it out, tore off a loose patch. Just to show you. Imagine a wall paper pattern like this? Oh ha, folks wanting to have walls all smooth and plastered and painted, imagine papering your walls with imperfection? Way more cool to me.
The circles are hand drawn.
I always like them better that way. In this way I become the compass. And the way reflects how centered I am. It took me years to be able to explain that in so few words. How fragile balance is.
I started this way back. I've been less inclined to check exactly when. Instead I am just going from where I am now. I dream of dyeing this at one point. But who knows where I will be then.
They are all becoming baskets. Eventually. The larger cloths.
I am the center of the universe. And so are you.
It's a lonely place and then we reach out.
This 9 patch ring of circles was configured using a kind of quilt math. I can't focus on that today, I'm focused on reaching out and accepting how vulnerable I've been feeling. I'm noticing how imperfect the circle is anyway. I stitched the little nine in the center without a hoop and without the usual layer of cloth beneath to stabilize which caused the movement of the cloth to make it harder to form the motif. The shifting made it all less perfect than expected and that allowed me to see that and just appreciate the conversation for what it was. Is. A back and forth.
I might name this Less Than Perfect.
