I spent most of the weekend with a needle in my hand, finishing up three pieces. I love stitching.
Stitching gets me up in the morning.
I look forward to spending that quiet time with my self. A time of un-thought.
The gentle hand motions often lead me into an inner wisdom.
Or a decision
On Thursday a friend and I attended an opening. Two floors of huge autobiographical photo transfer and oil paintings faced us, most done in the last year. The artist stood and told the crowd that she had just spent one week with a master printer, and made 63 mono prints, about half of which were in the show.
Yet I hold on to this extremely slow and domestically tinged way of making marks.
Which one of us is the lazy artist?
The answer of course is neither. To paint abstractly or realistically is an activity that demands full attention - all the time - to every brush slant, colour tint, or compositional decision. It's an intense and urgent activity. Exhausting.
Stitching is almost the opposite. After design decisions have been made, it's all about the time. Breathing rather than birthing.