the scent of night-time flowers has been a journey in remembering things forgotten while traveling on a new path.
the shape of the unseen, a shade of feeling, the internal caress of night scented air, a memory from some distant time.
the act of stitching so old it is in the fibers of our DNA, thread games of peek -a -boo are played out as the needle guides the thread in and out of the cloth.
the process of becoming, one stitch at a time.
in honoring the process of learning new things and being sympathetic to the chaos of becoming.
ever-present yet unseen, the other side of cloth.
the wild flowers gathered in early spring became a few weeks later an echo of themselves in cloth. the materials are whatever happens to be at hand, the choice of a particular flower bloom or leaf. within minutes color there was growing before my eyes. this is such a simple and rewarding process and a wonderful way of honoring where you are and using what is available. new perspectives and possibilities…