because there are flowers

quilt at Mary's cottage (with Jack)

Recall

another quilt aat Mary's cottage

 Go on

the tablecloth Grace gave me

 Move forward

an antique quilt in the Ferguson homestead, Centennial museum of Sheguiandah 

If something is to come our way
It is through risk

Leading no one knows where

the tree of life painting I never finished (acrylic on 14 pieces of gessoed paper)

Because there are still flowers

There is the rose
forever opening for the first and last time

the weight of the thread in this antique embroidery helped me sleep

The heart of a rose is invisible
While being so much more visible than anything.

The text in this post is inspired by Luce Irigaray 

The images are from last summer's card in my camera.

April made that indigo quilt behind them, hand quilted in a hoop while they drove across the USA

I'm emptying that camera.

It's hard to let the summer go.

painted ruin

It took twelve hours to drive home from Kingston yesterday. We had a lovely family visit with two kids, their partners, my father). I was also able to see my sister who lives nearby. The visit with my aging father seemed more emotional this time and once back in the studio today, I fell into my art as a kind of therapy. I may have ruined monumental simplicity. It's really hard to stay cool and minimalist. The paint did become lighter once it dried, and I am now in the process of removing months of red thread. The idea is to show absence.