I start with my own experience and my own dream world.
If you find connections with your experience or your dream world through my work, then I have succeeded in something very special.
My life, my dreams,those moments hidden in every day life, all rise up as I stitch.
I consider things from the point of view of a mother.
Beauty makes us more aware of what we could do and be.
We are bound together by beauty (this is an abigail doan idea)
Images in this post are of a new piece that I personally find beautiful.
I stitched it throughout most of 2017, and the handling of it, the looking at it, the touching it repeatedly, made me very happy. It put me into my dream world then, and it still does when I run my hands and eyes over it.
The Cloud In Me. New organic cotton with old and new velvet reverse applique. Washed and dried seven times. The dark velvet cloth that fills the random holes was a gift, fifty years old at least and some of it dis-integrated in the laundry and was replaced with younger stuff. The areas of bleeding from the nine dots of pink silk have left a rosy stain in the centre of the piece. The scribbled loopy lines that catch and distract my eye and fingers just the right amount are embroidered, yes, but they are also quilting stitches and work just as hard to hold the piece together as does the close hand stitched grid.
(The Cloud In Me here)
On my walk today I noticed that I still need to chant my steps.
I used to be able to think about other things during this daily walk,
but I am lame since this happened. I use a cane. I still have pain.
The left leg moves forward and I count until I get to 100.
Then I stop and stand. I breathe deeply, and then step to 100 again.
Yesterday I did 400 steps forward, and then came home, 400 more,
So that instead of healing me, (as I have claimed) it allows me to ignore my leg
.
I stitch by my window where it is comfortable, legs up, and watch the birds.
I go into my day dream mind.
My repetitive yet very intelligent hand comforts me as it caresses the cloth
I feel at such peace.
yes, I ignore my body for a while.
The birds come to the feeder.
The snow melts.
love the wild looseness of your sense of line, you are brilliant!
ReplyDeleteTake courage, Judy. I fell and only bruised the tendons in both forearms, did not break bones. It took 18 months to be able to hand stitch again for more than 5 minutes at a time. Now I can. I'm 65 now. Things are good.
ReplyDeletetwo left ankle fusions, right knee replacement, failing right hip, fear of falling and uneven ground and even so forward is the only choice with the salve of stitching and a grandson...maybe it's our stitched lines that carry us forward? xo tonight
ReplyDeleteYou teach me to always make imperfection into something worthwhile.
ReplyDeleteYou have succeeded Judy in transmitting emotions with your beautiful pieces. Your pieces move me and most times I cannot translate those emotions into words, but have something to do with my own recollections, of warmth, caring, love. Thank you for your art and your writing. They are one thing aren't they?
ReplyDeleteI love the flow of the lines through your stitching. Lovely post
ReplyDeleteAs I recover from cancer treatment and question my connection to my creative world; to seeing beauty beyond the limitations I feel I read your post with gratitude.
ReplyDeleteThe thread, the needle, the cloth begin to speak to me. I think I can take a few stitches today, breathing in the wisdom you have shared.Thank you Judy.
Your words go so beautifully with the images of your quilt!
ReplyDeleteEven if momentarily forgetting is not the same thing as healing, it may be a very important part of the journey..
what perfection.. and I sincerely believe that when our intention is to heal and we find peace in creation ... we allow the body to do what it does naturally.. move toward wholeness.. xo
ReplyDeleteThe bleeding of the red in this spectacular creation speaks to me as though representative of your leg pain - always there (even front and center) amid so much more. (If that makes sense) xo
ReplyDeleteYes, the bleeding of the pink is extraordinary. Perhaps as unexpected and undesired as a broken leg but so full of it's own beauty. Thank you for sharing your vision so openly and honestly.
ReplyDeleteFriend, firstly, I pray that you are mending within and you mend with your hands. All the swirls remind me of jumping rope, of all things! Did it quite often as a child. Not a good idea at this point in my life. So, no jumping rope for you, my dear LOL!
ReplyDelete