Tuesday, December 22, 2020
Wednesday, December 16, 2020
But still it is not yet enough to have memories.
One must be able to forget them when they are many and one must have the great patience to wait until they come agian. For it is not yet the memories themselves.
Not till they have turned to blood within us, to glance and gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves - not till then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes from them.
Rainer Maria Rilke - blood remembering
Sunday, December 6, 2020
to make without a firm plan
these little squares of colour lead me. I place them next to each other, and then listen to hear how they like their neighbours
I notice how they each have a presence, whether bold or quiet, and how the diagonal pathsthey make either blend in with others to create a firm yet gentle ground, or stand out boldly and are perhaps too loud
I have to wait until more colours go up
sometimes there is too much darkness and greyness. how did that happen? I am still the boss
I want to make something brave, not sad. I often have to un-pick and re-sew.
The bravery of these colours, and these neat square shapes hand-sewn one to the other.
These colours and their paths are the subject today. The SUBJECTS.
The object I end up with deals with these subjects, and that's all it does.
And while I sew them, I listen to the book about animal rights and astrology.
(Journal entry today)