erasing red marks

 

My hands are giving out.
Last night I quilted 6 hours in a row before going to bed - from 8 pm to 2 am.

I began to bleed from the fingers onto the white cotton and had to repeatedly lick an un-pierced finger with my own saliva in order to erase the small red marks.

This seems like it must be a metaphor for something.
Waiting perhaps,
suffering,
and immediately deleting the red evidence of that
with my own inner water.

my open wounded tender heart

 

We talked about spiritual practice.
He believes that God guides him.  That even when he works hard to achieve something and doesn't receive it - God gives him something else that turns out to be better.  So he puts his faith in that.

I told him that I believed in my own tender open heart as being where the spirit lives, and that I just trust my own feelings to lead me on the path.  Most of the time it is a good step, and even if not, even if it is a mis-step - it is OK.  Meant to be.

Bid Well

 

 

Bid Well
as if to say Be Well
I bid you fare well

A sense of loss, a sense of beauty, a feeling of landscape

This is a piece about place.
This is how Manitoulin feels for me.

Soft and rural.  Comforting.  Safe
refers to Bidwell road, on Manitoulin - but also refers to my inner place.

my inner cloud

Hand Work

returning time and time again to the term HAND WORK

a word that suggest a tactile, haptic sense of making and experiencing art that no longer privledges the visible and cerebral.

process based
non narrative
profoundly tactile
fundamentally experimental

(Paul Schimmel and Jenni Sorkin,
Revolution in the Making: Abstract Sculpture by Women 1937-2016) )

back home

 

 

I am just going to write down things to do.

Courage is an important factor in any creative effort.  (Anni Albers)

The piece I've been stitching since the middle of July is so beautiful, heavy.
3 more big hoops to fill with stitch before I can really evaluate it.

The stitching empowers it.  Each big hoop is 3-4 hours.