Among the Stars

I am the white moon among the stars

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Mary Pratt

She sat beside me after her talk. 

She had refreshments with me and we talked about things.  I told her that I had four kids too.  She asked me if I was an artist and I gushed and babbled, I was so in awe then. I was 39, she was 65. I’m still in awe of this woman.  She died in 2018, age 83.  

Shibori relic

Taking out the threads from that cotton dress I dyed red when my girls were still home.  Recalling how the colour and the bloodiness of the seeping red into white enthralled me yet stopped me from doing anything further with the found dress. I’ve moved it over the years from drawer to drawer, but last night, when I came across it in a box of linens, I decided to move forward with it and use the dyed part in some new work.  
 

Holding Goodness

To read and re-read my journals.  To read and re-read my own likes and dislikes and my own hopes and dreams.  

To invite phenomenological reverberation.

Resonating.

In resonance we hear a poem, in reverberation, we speak it.  

Gaston Bachelard (much paraphrased). 

Worked on The Beauty of the Green Earth by the fire until midnight.