Whats this need?

Detail of weaving project.  Summers scarf, silk shirt, 70's polyester shirt and the one she gave me.

Detail: White Rice that smells like recent laundry detergent, Vintage black lace, J.Crew, the one she gave me (or did I claim it?)

Detail: One of the shirts from the last months.

Its coming along slowly...a couple shirts a day.

I have been working at this daily and it is a very slow process.  I suppose in the slow process without a clear end in sight I hear all the questions and watch the thoughts move in and out of the ropes.  "What am I doing?"  "Why am I special?" "How many ways can I see Summer?" "Wow, it takes so long." "This is stupid, I am stupid."  "Should this become something else?"  "Is what I'm making just this?"  "What is this?"  "This is hard"  "I don't want to let her clothes become something else."  "I don't want her to be gone." 

I also knitted a scarf this week and started hand built coil pots....hand meditations, physical thoughts, touching the Autumn sadness, making something, being it.

Remnant

Remnant, 2013 cotton, fur, straw, lace

I am drawing on the walls with soft dimension and handwork of years past.  I love this fleeting piece of eternity.  Me, you all that lived before.

Do you ever marvel at this.

Cotton the flower of a beautiful plant. The flower reconfigured as a fabric.  Worn as a protective garment for a body.  The body dies and goes back to the ground, air, and water.  The cotton grows again from the earth that nourishes and is nourished by the body.  In between these cycles are momentary remnants, impressions of both the bodies and the flowers that once grew and will grow again.

Jump_er and Skirt

Jump_er, 2013 Fabric jumper, nails

Skirted Around, 2013, fabric skirt, nails

I am here now.  There is something beautiful and tender happening and I suppose that's why I feel so undone these past couple of weeks.  I don't know whats happening?  Just that its beautiful and tender...when something is tender it hurts to the touch.
I worked this week cleaning and painting my very rustic out-door studio, to prepare it for nailing clothes to the wall.
A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in a dream in Sicily.  Sitting between the sky and sea on a cliff.  Sitting at a little table I had dreamed about.  I sketched there each morning, etching the blue in to my psyche.

Working on it, art in progress 12/7/12

I am happily working on a bunch of new work in the studio...after getting my hands wet and making acquaintances with my fear and self-criticism.  I realized that all I have to do is keep doing.  The fear just wanted me to "STOP BE SAFE!!!" after one new work.  I didn't follow the instructions and instead showed up the next day and started another one and now after working on more pieces, what felt like a crazy loner piece now has become the beginning of a new body of exciting work that I courageously stand behind and will continue to open up to.  Sounds simple.