Spirit Cloth

Yesterday and Today

we go through life
we shed our skins
we become ourselves

patti smith

into

     as what seems solid soon begins to flow,
 and what is fluid soon begins to slow,
           congeal, and freeze, into far different forms
                which quickly set themselves up as new norms.

r. nemo hill

 my brother.

an interview

click on spotlight in the left margin and then r nemo hill interview.

i must say he has found his way. with words. his cloth.

 

it has become cold, posting may be thin through the holidays, almost all the leaves fell down and we can see the sea, more time will be spent at magic diaries as it nears its close, i will be leaving facebook and twitter and flickr come 2012, tra la la.

the ring of the day is a double ring.

and it has great potential.

plans to stitch and then dye again.

goodnight.

sleep tight...

 

personalizing season

i think it was around 7AM. around then. that it started to snow again, even though the weather report said mostly cloudy today.  now the sun is out and they say tomorrow we will have an ice storm. and i have no idea but this has me thinking about they.  and me. and why everyone is always quoting them to express their own experience...trying to find symbols to use  in their work to give it "personal" meaning.   listening to the weather to see what it might be like outside. without going out to find out. going to the doctor to see if they feel all right. and feeling sick because they should.

i can't explain why i am rambling so. i just wonder what's wrong with your own words, your own stuff to express who you are.  where is the magic in the symbol if it is not connected to you?  anyway, i just started a little winter cloth and right in the middle of it i sensed a warmth that has not been predicted in the weather report.  i sense it is coming from inside me.  or perhaps from this faded scrap that used to be quite intensely red and because i remember that.  finding true expression is trusting yourself and redefining what they say..

i think i will call this one deconstructing january.

happy birthday dad

today would be dad's birthday. dad loved nature and the sea. he sailed the sea, he painted the sea, he spoke with the sea. we miss him. my brother wrote a poem about him after his stroke.   an excerpt...

“Exhaled in single syllables, in grunts, in sighs-
Eventually Self calls for pen and paper.
Ah! So the I returns to wield its scribbler's quill,
Its signature, its penmanship intact.
There's nothing about all of this, my Father wrote,
That I wish to remember. Then he smiled
Sardonically, with that half of his mouth which he
Could still control. Then closed his eyes awhile . . .” 

more about the poem and the poet here.

the full reading.

...hi dad. happy birthday.

reconsidering blame

the march issue of art quilting studio arrived at my door yesterday.  i wrote a bit about my quilt weaving. and squares. and although i feel it is a good article, i am personally dissatisfied  about the timing, the photos, the context....many little things. ...it is obvious to me that this type of publishing thing is not really connected to my goals anymore , at least in its current format.  but that's ok.  the fact that this is the last issue of the magazine itself, coincides perfectly with my need for change. 

i marked a page from the wild braid by stanley kunitz a while ago. although he speaks of poetry, i was sympathizing with his words. which could be about any kind of making.  so often i think about how hard it is to create in this world.  and i join others in making lists of things that prevent me from doing what i really want. but today i am thinking differently.  maybe  it is more important to change my viewpoint. i am thinking about blame.  i am thinking about the difficulty of overcoming ones own convention.  a box we fit ourselves into with not even seeing it. because it so close. but that is our own fault.  just thinking about that. so today a square might be a box you squeeze yourself into. or not.

i was complaining about not having a design wall.   i moved all the furniture around (even planning to give some away...how much furniture do two people need anyway?)  and claimed the only full wall in the house.  just for a change. a ceremony for change.

imagine all the people

 ....happy 4th.  have a good weekend.  be back monday. peace.

time and patience

......i am very busy at work this week. the weather is still cold. and we still get that kind of snow that disappears as soon as the sun comes up...  while i am waiting for spring, i thought i would post the center panel from a baby quilt, all applique,  made a few years back. not a very clear photo, but i don't have this quilt anymore so i cannot re-photo. i wasn't really focused on recording work at that time.

36" square, all cotton applique, embroidered and painted details.

with time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown...chinese proverb.

quilting for truth

....i woke up under this quilt this morning. still unfinished and already needs mending in spots.

this time of year always brings re-examination. i feel quiet and reflective, yet confused.... there is some sort of heaviness that slows me down. the feeling that the year is ending and what have i accomplished. the stress of getting things done. the anxiety of what the new year will bring and what will i do with it.

i am sitting here now and thinking. ok... that's enough. none of this matters.

just like a lot of things we are taught that are simply not true.

like "neatness counts". for what?

...and don't start one thing before you finish another...!... like how is that possible? really.

my mother taught nursery school for years. she told me a story. one little boy stood on a chair to turn on the light. another teacher came running over and yelled..." get down, we NEVER stand on chairs!"  and my mother was upset because that is simply not true. this story was a gift for me.

the truth is what you are and what you do. everyone has their own. let it be.

this block of truth is 9" wide and 3" high. english paper piecing, vintage fabric. some of the reds bled so i over tinted the whole quilt in the washer with tan dye. in use and in process for the last 7 years. for my son.

quilting in voidville

......i picked a poem for the river of words. i picked it because of the image it creates for a hole. it is a positive image. it fills the hole with a positive energy, making it an opportunity for something beautiful

your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. everything  i do is stitched with its color. 

w.s. merwin

...now i am thinking about holes and how they are filled as the balance of all things returns. how transforming that is. and to be witness to that transformation. how wonderful that is. (i even went as far as to think it could be the reason we exist)

the river filled the holes and carried me up and back down and what a ride it was. and there it is . the river runs right through the darn thing, it quilts the darn thing, filling the holes and weaving a path and on the back it filled in some of those barren brown blocks and just happened to join up with those gypsy lions. what a night.

and as i put a hole in my indigo stash, giving some away....an amazing gift came my way, from Heather who simply filled this void with ancient blues, amazing treasures and some of them have been time worn and faded....and there are...holes. i am wordless in voidville and dancing in its silence.

 

kids say the the most amazing things

thank you all for your comments on the night-light ...it reminds me of my son, (let's call him binky...not his real name) and how he was for a while afraid of the dark...it just so happens that i am entertaining living my craft and quitting my job and i always end up talking about this with my son (now 28), because for as long as i remember, he has been drawing and making things and even weaving at one point. and then there was a disconnect. he was drinking and womanizing and piercing things and well... i won't go there.... and then somehow he came back to creating. an we were talking a few days ago and i was trying to describe my feelings about art and craft and things and he said...."mom. i think we work hard to practice and perfect our skills until there comes a point where we are so comfortable with the method, we are free and our creative act is one with our soul speaking".... shit, kids are great. what hell we go through for such a gift.