here we are

here we are

separated from what we knew

this is where we are

this is our time

 

I have another black cross quilt top in the works

I like black crosses

A black cross attracts the eye and holds on 

don't hate anything says Rilke

it seems as if something is disappearing

something fragile

stitching helps me to hold on

folded in the uterus

creased in death

we are like cloth

more somatic than cerebral

more felt than remembered

Pennina Barnett 

I piece together little squares with needle and thread and do not look for a short cut

I appreciate the slow way

I understand the connection to the body

I pay attention sometimes, other times I daydream

very simple

very quiet

simply to wake up 

to the very life we're living

which is so excellent

John Cage

honest                 true                    meaningful

open to wonder             hope-filled         calm 

love relationships        memory        

inner world                    passage of time

dream

over all, like a halo, the love of the artist for her work 

aunt jane

Regardless of how abstract a soft sculpture is, it will unavoidably evoke the human.  Organic is another word.  When it becomes a factor of the material itself, softness takes on an alarming correspondence to our own transitory journey, our mortality.  Max Kozloff  1967  the poetics of softness

the simplicity

the variability of nature

the daydream

we don't know anything

we're going to do it anyway

I'm just trying to figure it out

the days are bound together

by my hands.