Catching up on creative pursuits it occurred to me to update this blog, but briefly. Since I last posted fibers are my medium of choice - very portable, so far no allergic reactions - and slower creating for a more mediative experience. During the pandemic I learned embroidery techniques from Youtube and my slow stitch journey. Also my journey into enriching lives of seniors and those with disabilities as a full time career, sadly leaving less time to art making but more time into soul growing and service to others. There is satisfaction and much inspiration in merging these interests and pursuits as one feeds off the others in a myriad of ways. I did think of starting another blog, but, we'll see.
Oddly enough I sorted through the pile of fabric and found the first piece a did on NYE 2015 - the hoop and embroidery floss I purchased in Dahlonega when my dad was in hospital in a used notions/antique mall. This was a new chapter in the book or creativity and life journey at the same time. Sketching seemed too messy at the time and the brass hop with it's many colors and texture apealled.
So I started on a scrap of fabric and just added to and changed the design. Soothing except for the sticking my fingers occasionally, knots are a challenge at times. At some point it all came together enough and by New Years Eve 2015 my first piece was finished.
Much to unpack in this little piece. Fabric is yellow linen with a tan/brown leaf image embroidered in such a way as to make them seem like feathers and with the point of contact of the steams I sewed colorful rings somewhat resembling a dream catcher. The Native American imagery has manifested in my life in countless ways over the past 8 years. Before staring this project I was driving to see my dad in Dahlongah and was routed off the regular highway route. The eving was foggy and the road windy and the sadness came upon me from now where and I started to cry for several miles csobbing, really and for no concrete reason. Still I can visualize a historical sign on the side of the road that was diffuclt to read until just close that read "Trail of Tears" this raod I had traveled on was part of the trail of tearss so manny NA suffered on and lost lives, women, children, old people. Crying unknowingly on the trail of tears awaken aense of place and emotional portal for the first time.
