There is something quite powerful yet really domestic in this work.
I believe in the power of domestic.
Domestic is a poetic space we carry along inside us throughout our entire lives.
Gaston Bachelard said that.
I just start working and go at it all day, breaking for walk or errands or visiting my dad or meals.
All the day, I work.
Even my reading has slowed to one Grace Paley short story a day,
her observations and compassions about mothers and lovers.
healing vital energy
my work is absorbing, not exhausting
I hope to join together my thought process with my making process
Usually, I begin with a thought and then start placing fabrics
but things then get urgent and firm up so quickly...I can't stop them.
I have to.
I would like to slow down the many false starts I make.
I just don't have time to go off hand stitching in all directions.
unsophisticated
intuitive, almost artless
that red!
red edge thin and delicate
I hold it up to the light ...
strength of colour
softness of cloth
this is careful work
like the tai chi movement of carrying a tiger - heavy yet dangerous
red and white together mean death in many cultlures, accidents
red thread edges mean protection in many cultures
red and white has such a childlike simplicity
Old fragile squares plus new red threads and time
The time it takes to put it together and the time it recalls from the past century.
both
it's a gift cloth
a sense of chance
The work unfolds and takes its course
like nature does
8 comments:
You have stitched a prayer, a blessing for our broken world ... thank you for sharing it here
WOW, this is really nice, soothing and so beautiful. Thanks for sharing!
The red cross is a sign for sanctuary recognized Internationally, and yours, so full of meaning, time and thought is surely sanctified.
I would call "Gift Cloth" a gift post. You have offered beautiful words and images to savor and ponder. Thank you.
have almost finished stitching these words-
"On the lip of an abyss roaring with dark wind stood a tiny bush that bore an intensely red flower. The bush grew right on the very edge of nothingness, and yet somehow its roots were holding. It had a grip that no wind could disturb: it thrived there, all on its own, this modest little plant, and while the abyss yawned beside it, it went on bravely, doggedly flowering.
Helen Garner “Notes from a Brief Friendship” 2011 p46 “Everywhere I Look” 2016
contemplating how to stitch that tough little scrap of a red flower here you are stitching together your deeply powerful flowering red cross with such love and devotion
What a beautiful, tranquil cloth
Love you.
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Thanks and regards:
Do My ATHE Assignment
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