I’m loving this time in the cycle of seasons. Only a few plants outside are showing signs of greening up. Leaves are nowhere to be found. And although it’s unseasonably warm, I think we still have a month or so before the lure of new growth begs commemoration. It’s also a slow time in terms of art & craft shows–a venue I’ve become dependent upon.
But right now I’m not thinking much about craft shows. Instead, I’m looking at all the cloth I’ve generated from eco printing
and anticipating the process of melding together disparate pieces into whole cloth.
I love these little etchings on cloth–the last hurrah of the heroic effort on the part of a tree, shrub or flower. A mark that will last linger long past this growing season. Sometimes these marks commemorate an event–an occasion–a time spent in solitude in nature, or a social event with family and friends. Times or joy. Moments of sorrow. Sometimes these marks recall weather patterns. Times of drought. Times of unseasonable rain. And although these little imprints on cloth may look like absolutely nothing at first glance, for me they are intriguing. Mysterious. Beautiful. Parts and pieces that, when combined, tell another story.
I’m going to document the birth of this next cloth–a cloth that right now comprises 8 separate scraps of botanical imprints–finding the places where lines and shapes connect–where the whole emerges from the sum of its parts–where it makes sense to me. Where on some level I’m able to understand how the puzzle pieces can fit together –forming the big picture.
And thank you Jude Hill. Slow stitch and slow cloth.