This Cloth.
It has the feel, the look, of those ancient cloths that caught my eye in the pages of books, so long ago.
I can say it took forever to get here. Am I trying to go backwards? No. I was, am, still going and I think that's just what might happen. Maybe a circle is closing. The cloth is older, I am older and slower and it is all patched together, holding.
The face from inside.
New Roots.
At sunrise. Roots always seem ancient to me. But they are also a symbol of continuing. And newness then, a way to hold in the going. I was glad to see these this morning. The year has been so destabilizing. And these new roots make me feel like I am more at home.
I just kept stitching. This morning I sense a sea of stitch has formed. I am resting, floating in it.
Honestly I feel more puzzled than ever. Stitch is simple and I can understand it.
Out walking. Still learning the land.
This might be a favorite place. Old Earth is such a Timekeeper. A Story Teller. A story cloth I may well rest beneath one day... I made a new category, Old Earth. The Earth seems older here.
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.
Time...
it's a point of view.
This one, I'm not linking back (Summer Solstice I think) because here it is. The Tendency to Shift. A basket self. A frame of mind. And I just looked out the window and it's snowing!
Shift and Form are what I'm focused on. And Thought. Not Art. Thought. Although I see them as the same. How Thought mends what isn't into what is. How we all do that. Thought appreciation then. More inclusive.
And so I guess I am back. Tho I was always here. I'll do some practicing. Audio. Video. Sweeping. A new rhythm is forming.
Here I was playing with loose dyed patches and a more fleeting alignment. While thinking that letting go of time is the only way to grasp it.
Eventually. Because we are always in between.
Am I here?
Sort of.
It feels like this.
Going in circles. But then not really. But then in perspective, always.
I ended up making frames of mind. And now using them as just that. Filling the empty spaces/holes. I stitched on this one, on and off with Solstice in mind. And Mom who died on that very day a few years back. Has it been that long already?
It's not done because it doesn't seem to be my goal here. I'm experimenting with a few methods and also just letting circles form. And playing with the idea of frame (edge) in my mind. And it's relationship to puzzle solving.
I'm here to meet with some real estate brokers and then, not, to be elsewhere again and will post to Instagram mostly in the next weeks. To reconnect as I can. Been reading on the web but not commenting much. Ok?
Expect a few crumbs in the shop.
This morning
continuing with combining components in new ways.
Folding circles, again considering time passing...
as a component itself.
I might just rename these from time passing to Eventually. Eventually fragments. They might be very handy to build a story. They might fit anywhere and add an element of truth to the process.
Sunday. the 12th of February in the year I turn 66. (Not today, but soon)
It might have been Michelle's comment. On yesterday's post.
Today's nine is the closest thing I could get to violet, rummaging through the prepared squares in the basket, here, by my side.
From left to right...
Old linen from grandmas' table cloth.
A patch of the first muslin I ever used to stitch.
A white flannel from my son's baby pillow.
A square cut from a seamed patchwork leftover.
The center, a pairing with a bit of stitch to honor the seam.
That old linen again.
Flour sack cotton, a leftover from when I made my own dishtowels. They never wore out so I haven't made any more.
A lined linen that reminds me of notebook paper, I designed it when I was working.
A cotton lawn with a print that reminds me of seeds. I think I rescued it form somewhere.
So the center, I like that the center and the piece to the left come together to form a square of color that shifts slightly from the expected grid. That the red x adds warmth to the blue violet, making me imagine a warmer color, the one I need. I like that all the color there is like a blending. And I remembered the rings.
The amethyst from grandma, a February Gal, like me. And her daughter, my Mom, and her star sapphire which she loved so much because it was from Dad. How they seem like the colors here. How in their connection they feel like I feel.
The sun is out. Old sea, she greets me each morning.
Soul-o likes it better ON the table.
I did not record the making of this one.
Not like I do now.
Long ago, I found a roll of old brown paper. It' heavy and soft and I always thought I would use it. Finally I have something to use it for. On the wall then, behind the mending table, stretched out, a place to map this cloth. Because as I mend, I will try to remember. I started a while back, drawing my work. This is a bit different I think. I have many thoughts. They will unfold.
I have determined that my basic block size was 6". And that if I scale the drawing so that a 2" square represents each 6" block, it will fit on the paper. I have gridded it in pencil. Darkening the 25 block section that was the starting point, as I recall. As I took the photo, with the sun behind me it reminded me of the silhouettes we did in kindergarten. We used a projector, traced each others shadows on black paper, cut them out and mounted them on white paper. Gifts for parents to take home on open school night. I must have mine somewhere. Anyway, this is a PlaceKeeper. A map. And something new.
Standing on the chair, this is the center section, where I began, before the ring of cats. Already strays in my mind. As things progressed this was no longer the center mathematically speaking. Personal math has it's own rules. There are many places to mend. I'll take them one by one while remembering. Mending gaps in memory while patching holes in cloth. Mending your own work is such gentle timekeeping.
And here's that poem again...
And what is life? A crazy quilt;
Sorrow and joy, and grace and guilt,
With here and there a square of blue
For some old happiness we knew;
And so the hand of time will take
The fragments of our lives and make,
Out of life's remnants, as they fall,
A thing of beauty, after all.
a scrap... part of a poem by Douglas Malloch
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung