personal symbology

abundance of care moon

Abundanceofcaremoon

Maybe a month ago I was thrilled to finally succeed at scoring some of Glennis' magical moons.  With my order she included the above heart.  Immediately knew I wanted to pair it with a jude moon reverse appliqued inside the heart.  Further knew I wanted them to be included on the above presumed inclusion in my elaborate fabric art journal. 

But then - with everything that's been happening since, I thought I'd like to make a larger piece to serve as ongoing healing meditation and prayer centered on our shared global crises.  There are many inter-layered together.  And I think all of that deserves its own clothwork and meditational space from me.  Think I also need the stability that will come from working in this way.  And just want to say that the batik at the top is a very deep dark indigo rather than black.  What looks grey is actually blue.

The precious indigo cut-out wants to stay.  Perhaps a healing emissary sent from the moon.

Stitched the moon into place yesterday and ironed earlier today. This is my new thing.  I still do iron stuff but maybe 70% of the time now I don't do that until I've done at least a bit of stitching.  While I was at it I pressed the orange and turquoise attachment weaving sampler.  Think I'm going to mount it on a fabric I haven't searched-out yet.  Eventually put it in a slightly recessed glass frame so it can hang on the wall up here in the studio.  But maybe that kind of idea is already a dream from another time.  It's hard to say.


need more of this

Bookcoverslices

Yesterday I called a wildcat strike due to week two of the flu being just as draining and unpleasant as the first and, also, people/politics/unsolicited personal opinions overload.  Wasn't up for much but definitely felt capable of dismantling a book or two and some magazines.

 I began with the cover of a book about wreath making.  Got it at the library book sale maybe six years ago because I liked the smallish square size and originally intended to alter the contents.  Now want the covers for a sketchbook filled with a backlog of paper cutoffs that's gotten out of hand.  Two birds/one book.

Morningcollagepile

Moved on to ransacking the removed textblock and also a brochure about Chinese dancers.   Went over to the house to rustle up a low key flu-lunch.  Let the cat in and out a number of times and then returned to my day all the way Off.

Tableoffodder

By mid afternoon I'd gone through a number of other magazines, catalogues and brochures.  Also started ripping up a brightly illustrated book about songbirds throughout the world. Tomorrow I'll have time to sort and begin gluing down items from the stack of cut-outs that seem just the thing for inclusion in a modest variety of art journal projects.  Will store the rest with the projects they evoke or my general fodder collection. 

Sewingoriginaspouch

Also stitched a tarot card pouch for a deck containing my favorite card image to date:

Originsmagician

plus found an attachment weaving sampler I made during Jude's second round of cloth-to-cloth.  Loved making this.  Attachment weaving has remained my favorite technique learned in that class.  Took the big light blue glass butterfly bead off and steam pressed.  Hanging it in place where I'll see it a lot and smile.

Attachmentweavingsampler


mercifully mellow

Robinfortressblg

Today has been warm enough to open windows on both sides of the studio.  The pleasure of naturally fresh air - and the fact that it's still possible to say we live with such a blessing - left me hungry for spring.   Am in the throes of pretty much going through everything I own here in the studio and elsewhere.  It's been an ongoing process for about a year now.  The more I lean into it the more it picks up speed and volume. 

Think it's my sane response to the increasingly insane world.  I want and need this space to have energetic flow and practical workability.  In addition to very lo-fi yet optimum storage reconfiguration it's become really important to me that all dust and bits of debris be corralled and removed.  (note as is obvious in above image I do not consider flaking bark fragments to be "debris")

There is much going on in my family - thankfully nearly all of it of a purposeful and positive nature - that's pulled my energy back to the basics of the Householder path.  Last night I had a chance to sit quietly with the new moon in pisces vibration.  That's when the phrase mercifully mellow popped into my head.

Bulbsplantedonsolstic22420

Here in the studio we have two very unglamorous pots of bulbs I planted on the winter solstice.  Sunny yellow and orange sweet scented daffodilly energy is on the rise!  It's a ritual I've enjoyed since a friend and I declared ourselves the Inventresses of the practice roundabout '81.  Then we had an old fashion metal milk delivery cooler to store our pots and now I have a left-behind refrigerator that just sort of hulks at the edges of our garage.  For the two months of winter the bulbs give it purpose.  At this point (other slower to rise bulbs are still sequestered) the narcissus have been slowly acclimating to light for 5 days.  Tomorrow or the next day I'll put them in their permanent spot for budding-up.

Malachiterescue

Have also been breathing life in a long-neglected and pretty much ossified tube of discontinued (malachite) Daniel Smith watercolor from their primatek line.  The color doesn't handle reliably and it's streaky.  But the specific green itself is rather marvelous and I've been thinking of ways I could use the smaller chunks as mark making tools.

Herbacrafterspouch

Today I also sewed a silk-lined storage pouch for a tarot deck I acquired very late last year - The Herbcrafter's Tarot.  Although I'm quite aware dandelions aren't pink it's the scrap that kept calling to me.  I lined the quilter's cotton with a green dupioni silk that stops just short of chartreuse.

[note:  per a request I'll soon be posting about Herbcrafters in relation to the way I approach a new deck upon unboxing.  Will do that on my main blog as I know some who read there but not here will be interested and inspired by the card imagery.]

I just cut long rectangles of the outer fabric and silk, eyeballed to leave sufficient room for a front, back, and tuckable flap.

Pouch unsewn

The two fabric's raw edges are folded inward (sometime with unravelling silk involved it winds up being as much as a half an inch for the silk and then easing-along the cotton to keep the edges even.  Below you can see how the folded seams look when the finished rectangle is positioned in the proper place for its intended contents. 

  Pouchedgedges

You can also see how the two fabrics are folded inward to self-seam with a continuous well spaced running stitch and (sometimes gently botched) mitered corners. 

Today I had to work with set dimensions based on what I had of the dandelion print.  And within that constraint long experience has taught me that if I set further folding and sewing lines based on the booklet and cards placed horizontally as it is above...

Herbcrafters

When all is said and done the cards and accompanying booklet will be housed in verticially snug comfort with just enough space to slip in a polished stone or crystal if you do that sort of thing.  

Pro-Tip:  Join the finishing side seams of the pouch with a continuous backstitch. 

Begin at the BASE of the sides rather than the top. When you get to the top take one or two small but sturdy stitches that are perpendicular to the rest of the stitches.  The top edge of the pouch will receive the most stress and wear.  Mindful stitch planning significantly increases the timeline before you have to repair or outright re-stitch the joining seams.


Marti Reponds to Recent Events

She Rises When Needed

Martiresponds

grace has also posted about this wonderful work this evening.  Please read her post as well as the first comment which contains Marti's detailed heartfelt explanation for her creation.

 


a guest post from Marti

Ojomarti

For all of my collage companions,  I offer this simple collage filled with images, some of my dyed cloth and an important word in Spanish, Ojo.  Ojo means eye and Acey, you have given us the ability to go deep within ourselves and see in a new and connective way.  Rather  than offer up  a stepping stone, I give you an old archway, next to an old door, open the door and glide through this portal, this opening so that we  may all continue with the discoveries that we have made,  both outward and inward in working with scraps of paper, scissors and glue. Imagine that this archway contains these carved words:  Continue to find your sense of personal discovery.  Find solace and quiet joy in nature. Know that rainbows always come after storms. May you have candlelight to soothe the darkness.  Most of all, thank you all for stepping along the path of collage with me, for being a part of such an illuminating time, a deeply moving and connective way to begin this year of 2020.  Love, Marti
 
 
 

Day 22 results

Florencevalentine

[Woke up with a strong intention to collage a valentine to a tiny lake inside the Adirondack Park blue line.  Beloved to my husband and I since the summer we were both 23 and discovered it together.  Then something in my deeper creative mind jacknifed the plan.  I guess you never forget your first love/sense of idyllic human completion.]

Innamorata -

Although you've had millions of devoted admirers over the centuries I can only hope that all their sweetest memories of your charms remain as vivid and alluring as my own.  I shall never forget the first evening I spent in your embrace made fragrant by night blooming flowers.  I first caught sight of your beauty from a rooftop dining space alight with the day's Golden Hour as I'd never experienced it.  Seeing a sea of similarly incandescent terra cotta rooftops awash in the same glow my soul felt itself reach for your hand.  You seduced me simply and completely.

Unable to sleep from the sheer excitement of being newly 18 and thousands of miles removed from anything  that would stop me from making decisions purely my own - I went with my two mid-70's EuroTour roomates to discover you as a threesome of young americans determined not to be ugly in our tourism and unafraid to venture forth in search of a city's true soul.  We wished to know you, Florence, as our jammed-packed tour itinerary would never reveal. 

We literally stapled our passports to the inside of our underwear and then moved empty-handed into the night of a place we'd never been and were unafraid to explore.  We simply followed the sound of voices and lights.  We'd been in Italy for about a week after traveling on an Italian ship for eight days to reach Naples.  The experience had taught us where we'd see, learn and laugh the most - voices & lights were our password to Truth for that magical 6 week window's worth of time.  It never once steered us to a bad or frightening place.  Not even when we followed an increasingly massive roaring sound to the piazza surrounding your jewel of architectural renown.

We'd unwittingly followed the sound of rage and resounding large-scale mobilization straight into some type of political rally that packed humans tight.  The air shimmered with the sound of their collective voice raised as one united by uncompromising dissent. We turned as a single whirl of legs and arms.  Your night air caressing us.  Knowing not to run outright and draw attention to ourselves.  We walked brisking without a clue of what we were doing.  Only one of us, after some panic-stricken hissing, was able to recall the name of our hotel.  But she didn't know where it was located. 

Directly in front of us were three stylishly dressed dark and handsome men three or four years older then we.  They at first were speaking ugently, all at once, in obvious group encouragement to arrive at the rally we were fleeing.  Then one of them saw us doing that and grabbed the arm of an another.  Without even a twitch of eye-contact consultation they pivoted towards us. 

We must not be frightened.  It was only a communist rally.  They themselves were communists but clearly reasonable and nothing to fear.  Said in three languages before I picked up enough friench, and another girl leaned into some rusty german translating abilities to get from one end of the thought to the other.  They were the handsomest, suavest, most self-assured young men I'd ever met let alone spent time with.  Only these many years later do I realize how rare it is to want to spend time with men that fit such description.

Florence - you gave me the most romantic safely madcap night of my life then and one of its sweetest fleeting memories now.  All held within your embrace.  Under a sky I'd paint with a base of cobalt blue and then find union with a host of specially mixed indanthrone blue and purple-grey tones.  I don't know if there were stars and a moon.   I do know there was a long luxurious stroll across an ancient bridge that held the imprint of your centuries' human foot traffic.

For a while we six stood in a silent line and gazed at the far more famous bridge that crosses your Arno river.  It was a lovely moment in a timeless place.  At some point the spell broke and I remember us talking in two somewhat urgent groups of belated consultation. Where were we going?  It appeared neither group knew. 

The gentlemen (for that's what they were...) weren't from this city but another they kept assuring us was of no importance.  Not in a forget you saw us way but simply reassuring us they lived nowhere we were obliged to visit as diligent tourists.  We laughed with a tentative willingness to proceed as a group intent on sharing the evening.   

(because of this long ago gift you bestowed, my most magical Florence, I never ever question unlikely paradise instead of disaster within movies showing us make-believe lives practically nobody actually lives.)

We ate watermelon.  And they taught us a regional dialect word from their grandparent's generation for this sweet delicious fruit that I still remember.  We climbed a seeming eternity of stairs and years into the future I'd return here and literally facepalm to see how close we'd been to the Uffizi Gardens. Climbing and climbing it seemed like time out of space until something very real and big crashed directly in front of us.  It was a stag; close enough to rear back at the rank odor of his scent.  Coming from where to reach what destination?  It was impossible to know.  All of us were amazed in a way that left us gasping with laughter.  Kissing occurred.  And then the night sky erupted with dazzling white light.  Music familiar to our shared generation - no matter where we lived - followed only seconds later.

We climbed the final distance to the edge of Piazzale Michelangelo.   It was ablaze with a glare of strung lights.  Internationally popular music pulsed from the back of open cars ringing the outer curve of the wide Piazzale.  We ladies jumped and clapped and spun to grab whoever we'd been kissing.  The young men laughed as a single voice of triumphant youth about to have a good time.  The evening - although retrospectively chaste - had spun us all in a web of delighted willingness to say Yes to you and ourselves and each other  We danced for several hours.  Stopping to drink water and eat more watermelon.  Strolling the very edge of the curve - shouting out greetings to people in our age-tribe dressed all manner of ways with all manner of accents and languages.   To kiss while wordlessly conveying in an entirely mutual way that was all that would happen. 

The walk back down the innumerable stairs didn't occur until daybreak.  Shoes in hands sticky with watermelon juice we marveled at all the terraced natural beauty we'd walked through with no awareness of how lovely and magical the night had actually been as it pulsed all around us.  Excitement erupted when the Stag's crashing after-trail was discovered.  We all stood still to stare at the proof of what we'd witnessed.  Just us and the stag.  Each of us turned slowly to search the landscape.  It was still impossible to guess where the stag had come from and where it was going.

And Florence.  I've never before told anyone ever about this night.  It was just too perfect to contain with mere words.

It still is.  That's why I added tiny hints of what it felt like using beautiful papers inspired by your own forever-beauty. ..


Day 21 - results

Treasurebox

As a first layer I did create at least the sense of an actual box with a lid that opened in the center to left and right.  Loved the way it looked!  Pictured exactly how I wanted it to look and then instead I crammed the page spread full in a way rather characteristic of my real-life treasure boxes.

The only fragment that remains of my constructed box is the strip of Japanese silk tape.  It's also the last remaining fragment of this wondrous tape but since this was not a material challenge its purpose had been to suggest the sumptuous often stuffed and tufted silk linings to trinket cases I remember some of the Old Nanas keeping when I was a child.  Something mysterious and elaborate from their own girlhoods in most cases.  The inside of the box was described with a piece of icy blue distressed damask patterned paper . I'll start with the tape and go up and around until we're back at the amaryllis bud.

tape representing my love of Japanese design both traditional & modern.  Hollyhocks and hummingbirds.  Summer's early morning sun.  Later spring's first peony.  And the way any rain-battered rescues scent the dining room - opening as beautifully as a pampered show bloom.  below the peony - 60's style pop art!!  My power/waxing crescent moon and favorite number 11 (in nearly all of its permutations) 

Small paper scrap representing silent glistening snow falling from a sky that seems to reflect the snow's sparkle once it's settled on the ground.  Both the stated Advice from A Tree - torn from a seed packet attached to a T-shirt bearing the same design.  A gift to my son for house/cat sitting while Jim and I took in an Orioles-Red Sox Game at Camden yards and spent the next fiendishly hot day exploring my favorite childhood destination:  Longwood Gardens. So I'm actively treasuring the memories of all of that.  As well as the meal we all cooked together once the family was briefly reassembled before T. took off back to the farmhouse with my special Beech in its side yard.

The full moon closest to my birthday and all the memories of the many times I've been fortunate enough to wander in its particular light among nature - unafraid and feeling deeply blessed.  The way the tree energy rises by slow inexorable degrees during early spring here in new england

(forgot that up at the top there's a strip of brown velvetish leaves on a golden background.  To representing dying-back plant matter in later fall. And also a golden/deep space purple reminder of the mayan prophecy that humanity shall be saved by a flower.)

  Our planet's oldest flower - the magnolia.  Her flower essence aids in all aspects of re-birth as well as labor and delivery/fresh new birth-growth of a creative endeavor or gaia-loving mission.

Happy thriving honeybees living in cooperation with our species.  My favorite comfort go-to meditative color range of dioxine purple, vivid coral, red-violet and clear bright lilac.  Ease:  physical, mental, emotional, and organically shared at community level. 

Just about the easiest and most dare-you-to-look-away lovely indoor flower to grow - the amaryllis.  The image also gives a strong shot of clear vibrant first chakra/red energy to stabilize and root all valuable memory and meaning.  This flower essence has always seemed very androgynous in its vibrational signature.  The remedy's effectiveness spans all levels of physical comfort and confidence actively felt as a vibrant mind-body connection.

Sprinkled throughout the treasured items - my favorite 'happiness' color of bold yellow streaked with orange.  Sometimes as snippets of no meaning to signify my fondness for using EVERY scrap of paper and also some free-cut stars to represent my love of spontaneous joy-filled unassuming craft time.

This was a very enjoyable and profoundly stabilizing prompt for me personally.  For a little while in the beginning I got shaky the way some of you did with the care package.  But then I focused on my intention for everybody else - to decelerate and come into a more rooted sense of creative mojo/essential Self despite the chaos and accompanying noise.   Dried my eyes, took a deep breathe and gently prodded my soul enough to finds seeds of joy ready to sprout and make flowers.

(big deep long exhale)

isn't it GREAT that we're all doing this together???


Day 20 - results

Silencesreality(

Not sure I would have had the guts to make either the collage or the post that follows if I hadn't been so moved and inspired by Joanne's collage right here.

Originally I didn't plan to engage with this prompt because I figured I'd evoked all the Empress of Everything energy I could reasonably expect myself to express during the Care Package prompt.  But then I realized I was also avoiding something really important that I didn't want to deal with in an active way until after this challenge was complete.   Felt it wasn't "necessary" or "proper" for me to include what I wound up creating as part of my personal responses to the prompts.  Nonetheless here we are. 

My collage for today is in large part a delayed reaction follow-up to the real-life results of a collage I made the summer before last as part of year-long art journaling project.  Within that context the image spoke to my ongoing experience(s) being silenced by white culture in general and within my specific family of origin.  I allowed myself to visually specify what this felt like for the first time:  to be enmeshed within a solely white upbringing in a 90% white town (all Others neatly collected in slim enclaves with protestations that the Others wanted it that way ....) while being bi-racial and utterly estranged from my other half. 

The latter fact was routinely dismissed as  a mere detail which shouldn't be encouraged "to fester" because my inherently insufficient* environment was supposed to render me too grateful by my good fortune to be able to "pass" if I just applied myself to the goal with true will to succeed at it.

*I'm defining insufficiency in terms of knowing who I really was at a basic genetic level since it was glaringly apparent to me I was indeed half Other.  And consistently feeling myself as lacking any viable guidance towards developing life skills that were relational to my ongoing experience both at home and in the larger world.

*~*~*~*~*

  As a direct result of making that collage I subsequently ripped the metaphorical tape away from my very literal mouth and began expressing what felt the safest within an inherently troublesome aspect of my life :  the white-centric way in which my small but mighty family has lived since we moved away from a diverse urban hub of great meaning and empowerment to me.  And what that experience has led me to conclude without a shade of doubt:

Hypocrisy is a crippling by-product of all human nature, no doubt.  But the specifically white version of it insures nobody anywhere ever really gets very far with race relations.

entirely true for me without doubt.  But I went about expressing it in the dogmatic emotionally charged manner of somebody who's been honing their rage as well as their ability to sit quietly with a thing I cannot fix by myself or by summoning my own white mojo intent to have it be otherwise.   And I regret that very much.  THAT isn't just something I can fix - it's something I must fix because nobody else can do it for me. 

Empress of everything

To illustrate my re-considered intentions moving forward - I began with a healthy dose of self-accountability that focused on an ability I actively hold here in the everyday world that I can apply within experiences involving my linear human landscape - starting with a photocopy of the lede collage.  I pasted in a dedicated journal I'll probably wind up sharing a bit on this blog once this challenge is in the past tense long enough to have reclaimed one or two planned winter learning projects first.

 I also photocopied two other elements of the same art journal where I made the original collage - tracings of my left and right hand decorated with off-world tatoos what have been re-configured so they might attend to my silenced past-tense self.  In this collage they embody the wise and seasoned touch of my highest self  and all her cumulative experiences and observations.  Thus the hands work slowly and with gentle patience to loosen the powerful adhesive that's kept me 95% quiet about this pivotal aspects of my ongoing life experience for more than half a century. 

- notice they are using flower medicine to loosen the adhesive and heal the wounds it caused -

My right hand takes command of the evolved objective - to liberate by way of accrued finesse and empathy My other - receptive and empathetic - hand cradles my forehead to steady me for the shock and abrupt shift that will come when the tape's finally removed and I now hold sole responsibility for whatever I elect to say or not.  In acknowledgement of this - through the process of making the collage - I've given myself a sovereign power - the power of gentleness - I already had without knowing how to claim or implement it.

This collage that I almost didn't think it was 'necessary' to let myself make at this time and in this specific venue is probably the most personally meaningful and healing response I've had in the process.  It's a visual pact with myself as a writer and activist.  

AND

far more importantly -  from now on making the commitment to deliver myself from the idea there's only one way to get a thing done.   Or that there's a BEST way and for some reason I'm the one who knows it.   And that if I'm not heard or remotely 'accepted' in that one-way's cadence and tone then I have failed The Cause and myself.

failed to grow, maybe.

but I'm pretty much done with that too.

(tomorrow begins the final third of the challenge.  We'll be downshifting the intensity of the prompts' self-exploration curve in order to discover what might want to grow in all the fresh inner space we've made through better understanding who we are creatively and what we're making of and for ourSelves through making art of whatever form.)


Day 18 - Morning Post

This prompt is either spooky or simply right on target in light of a conversation going on in response to Dee's post here.

Marti and Dee were discussing dancing with great abandon and also Gabrielle Roth.  Just thought I'd leave the note that the day I holed up in the studio to create these prompts I was listening to her cd Intiation on auto repeat. I often collage and move about while that cd is on but it isn't the kind of moving you two were discussing.  It's more about moving my muscles and bones with total awareness of how the motion flows through both and whatever that moves their union to express in the moment. To reach a cosmic heartbeat level of abandonment I need Prince.

Prompt #18

consider The Center of it all.  As that relates to you and your life/the world you've made around it.

Not - although I know it's a rather impossible ask but just try - the center that can't hold.  Not the center of a statement you feel that you must personally make/carry/protect/live by and through as much as humanly possible. Not even the center of why your individual life feels important and vital to something larger than yourself.

Instead focus on the center of our body's coiled energy.  Consider the center of your instincts and refined vision.  The center of your heart - the never-had home so many of us don't so much carry in our hearts as we are carried by it.  The center rediscovered every time we have an opportunity to breathe deeply and just Keep Still(ness) for a moment.

what does that center look and feel like?

Lotusseedpod

I wanted to use the above lotus seed pod as a hat or crown chakra flare for yesterday's Crone totem.  The scale wasn't remotely workable.  And although it currently looks okay in relation to the background that's only because the circles are about 3/4 of an inch.  The pod is lost on the page overall.  So I have two choices.  I can construct a multi-parts seed pod that fills in the page nicely or I can go with something more like this:

(the partial pink upside down lotus at the very top is my way of conveying an over-lit/divine universal Lotus flower medicine spirit sending energy and blessings from Above)

Lotuspondoption

Originally included this scrap book paper because I thought selected circles here could represent seeds and I would cover the rest in various ways.  But then when I chose it as the place to respond to this prompt I started to see it differently:

as if "the Center" had an ability to help me separate mish-mashed thoughts, obstacles, unwelcome developments, startling opportunities, mundane buzzkills that demand centerstage and so forth.  The Center allows me to isolate the ceaseless chatter pattern by encouraging the individual topics to migrate to its own little bubble pattern.  I can visualize some floating away or at least out of my immediate focus range.  Each is contained so I only have to deal with one component of a Thing at a time.  And they're in the background.  Waiting politely for the right moment to seek the Center's attention.

Can't decide yet. Lotus seeds aren't circular,  If the rest of the Lotus representations look true to themselves so should the seeds.  And so forth.


a post from Marti

Prompt 15: attachment, Style over substance, substance over style:

I've shared of how my home is decorated very simply with my dyed cloths, weeds, pine cones, bird feathers, at times, bird nests, ornamental corn, dried chili peppers in baskets, etc.  In fact, my kitchen now contains a large chili ristra, a surprise gift from our kids when they were here for Christmas. The ristra hung outside the front door but heavy winds knocked it down, tore off some chiles which were soaked and ground into a chili paste and now  the ristra now hangs in our kitchen.  All the things that are "ornamental" in my home contain and mean the world to me.

Some of you may know this story: when we got  ready to sell our home in CA, the first real estate agent that we spoke to admonished me to get rid of my rocks, birds nests, bird feathers, etc. because they held no "style" and would be off putting to potential buyers...you can guess where this is going.  She didn't get our listing.  The agent who did asked us to keep things just as  they were for they spoke of w ho lived in this home and she felt that was important.

This brings me to the what I have chosen to put in this collage in response to prompt 15:  I noticed that some have painted their backdrops, used  gesso, other materials so instinctively I chose  one of my dyed cloths as the backdrop for this collage. It was chosen for many reasons; for the joy of bringing old cloth to life by dyeing with the gifts of the land, for the image that presented when the cloth was unbundled, the image of a meadow,  the leaf imprints coming from my dearly loved  Chinese Pistache trees in front of our house; a tree  that I had not known until we came to New Mexico. The leaves of these trees yield varying shades of green, etc depending on the mordant used on the recycled cotton cloth.  This backdrop cloth reminds me of a meadow, a meadow where sheep frolic and that is important to me..  My father came to America as a contract shepherd, loving his flock of sheep and I loved him dearly.  He was my touchstone and although it has been over 42 years since he died, we still speak to each other and I see him now and  then.  The image that I have chosen has to do with him but also myself for when you hold to the things you love, even though it may set you apart, your heart leads the way and substance over style, wins out every time.

Thank you all for being here so I could share this with you:

Marti15