Grace and Focus

When I was in the 4th grade we had to memorize a poem. Any poem. One of our choosing. My dad, the least literary man I’ve ever known, thought it important to teach me his favorite. A sports related poem– a metaphor for life, actually, couched in terms of the dynamics of football of all things. A football game to be precise. Like having your back up against your own 5 yard line and all of that. It was about how one IS in dire situations. Dreadful ditty but over the years I’ve rephrased it into my own venacular. It popped into and out of my consciousness during this past week. Because this was a week that needed grace and offered lessons that could not be avoided. Had to be embraced in fact.

And there was little stitching, except to finish this:

Not a lot of changes from the last time–when was that?–but enough. And today it goes as a birthday gift to my daughter. Forty-two today. It was hard to finish, but it was important that I did so. Because she named it–Three Graces–and asked for it. And because today she needs this–not the cloth so much as the promise of grace bestowed.

And then this:

that started as a play with over-dyed fabric and merged as three oddly shaped critters with one thing in common. Focus. The red dot. Focus. And I needed that too, this week, that red dot in front of me, demanding attention, disallowing wandering thoughts, insistence upon staying present. Right here. Right now. And it helped. Is helping.

Nearing Completion–and moving towards abstraction

I don’t really have any thing much to say but I need to record the changes happening in cloth.  And the changes which may be lurking on the horizon.  This one now named.  “Three Graces.” A cloth to be gifted soon. It’s been silent for quite a few weeks.  Then several days ago it spoke up and here’s where we are.   Subtle changes.  Stitches in black.  A defined horizon.  Stars.  Birds.   Nearing completion.

and Earth Guardian. Also taking its time. Topo lines added. A forever reminder of a beautiful morning hike to waterfalls. Consulting a map. Determining altitude. Distance. But really, the genesis of this cloth was concern for water–and came forth from the nuclear spills in Japan. The impact that it will have on the oceans–on water and critters–two leggeds, four leggeds and fin-beings. And there seemed to be a huge disconnect when I stood in front of a 150′ waterfall, hypnotized by the constant sheets of cascading water. How could two things–this waterfall and the Fujiyama Nuclear Plant coexist in a sane world? And I had to clarify for myself the meaning of “sane.”

And in the interim, while waiting on cloth, I’ve been dyeing. Coupling cloth together. No story in mind. Just the wonder of the cloth itself. The transformation. The unexpected.

There’s some thing about the abstract-ness of these cloth fragments that has me wondering. Can abstractness be a story in itself? I think one of the first lines in the Tao Te Ching says something like “the name that can be named is not the eternal name.” And that helps. Because often I have the need to create–to express–and many times the “thing” wanting expression cannot be said in words, cannot be sketched, cannot even be rendered in cloth.  Can only be felt.  Sensed by self.  And in some very strange way, these little scraps of hand-dyed fabrics seems to satisfy that need.