Gallery: Stitches
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Stitching around the edge of my soul... There are days when making things is purely about checking in with myself. Needle and thread?... Check. Hook and wool?... Check. Fibre and friction? ...Check.Hammer and anvil?...Check. Lenni? I stitch...I crochet...I weave...I forge...I felt. My hands, my thoughts and time...something is being done, being made. Making? Transition and transformation. Becoming. Things emerge as proof...proof that I am still here, proof that I have purpose, proof that I have worth. Strength in every stitch...I can almost see her. I try to shut out the doubt and the doubters - damn knots, dents, dropped stitches, the fucking blunt scissors! Self- judgement is a c@*t - what a waste of time...this is not a real job... this is pointless...no one wants this...this is just crap...what a pile of shit! Tangled, twisted, bent...Stop! Gather, pick up, reinforce...Breathe! Stitch...despite the distance between myself and me, I find her in the making. Stitch... I run my fingers along the edge of her soul , fold over the seam and stitch. Strength...stitch...passion....stitch....worthiness...stitch...essence...stitch...self... stitch... Me?...Check! |
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