History that binds us

 Unaware of my history, I was amazed by what lay hidden within the boxes of my past. Laying in a flattened box was the image of my great grandmother Carmelita. A strong woman who was afraid to suffer the same despair as her mother, who was left penniless with a your Carmelita. Mygreat great grandmother lived with relatives while she sold embroidered tablecloths, nakins, and other fiber goods. Carmelita was taught to never depend on a man to provider her with a life, and even though she married a very well to do Fulgencio Roa, she created her own milk and butter delivery business that gave her financial peace of mind.

I was unaware that such strength was part of me.

So, as my son sat studying his alphabet I wondered, am I as strong as them? I do not feel such strength. I weaken at the sight of doubt, mine pulls on me while other´s pushes me down. I limit myself out of fear that I will be seen as too odd, or even worse a failure. But now with the knowledge of these women, their stories, my persistence to create and release it has grown. I can feel their blood pulsating through my veins. They whisper "sigue, no te dejes" (continue, do not let them bother you).

As my son recalls his infancy with a forgotten pacifier, I revive that driving force within me, that nagging tap on my shoulder to go into the studio and create.

Our wedding gift to our guest. A small painting on glass of Usaquen, done by a very talented Colombian artist.

Who looks behind the mask?

Some doodles, maybe a potential theme or story. The human condition, and the materialization of a thought. What if it became a being? What if it were lonely a looked for a friend? How would it find?

Musical concoction

A heart beats to a rhythm of 2.

My telltale heart

 I have had love on my mind as I was trying to finally learn how to sew a curved seam. It took me forever. But I finally managed.

This colorful heart sang to me a little song on why it shined so brightly.

A heart in love shines a million colors.

Beating to a rythm of its own.

 Without love the heart looses its luster.

Remaining silent and lost in darkness

 It only needs a whisper of love to shine again.

So whisper sweelty

whisper till times end....

One little square. A single sunflower of the many in a field of gold.

a last farewell

a sorrow so deep
a sorrow so wide
I had never meant,
nor intended
for you to feel
oh how I wish I could have just stopped
put a holder on time
turned the switch off
but the flow has reached the broken damn
and my wishes have been swept away
for another more fortunate
a young one with dreaming eyes
and a heart that floats with wings
oh how I wished hard and long
I only wanted for you to live a long and happy life
to watch your hair turn grey
but now my beloved tocaya here you are
inside that box that encases your everything
your breath
your sighs
your laughter
your cries
your thoughts
your dreams
I know you are let down
I know you want to scream and be heard
but all that is left now is silence
all I can hear is your silence that deafens me.
And all I can say is forgive me
forgive me for my absense
forgive me so that I may stop crying
forgive me so that I can release your ghost
forgive me so that all that happiness that I had wished for you
may fall upon me
one day
oh just one day of happiness
for you and me
maybe that day we shall meet
in my dreams
once again
and look through the kitchen window...

a last farewell to my beloved aunt.

In the spirit of spookiness

One of my favorite artist couple The Cart Before the Horse is having a giveaway.So pop on over to see if you can win a wonderful Skeleton of your own.

The truth about the pumpkins.

Completed. Words are not flowing today.

Many thoughts

This clear blue Wednesday I sit down at my displaced kitchen table (now in the living room because of one wall cabinet decided to fall down and shatter all mycrystal into thousands of small slivers. May it was a collective decision. maybe they decided to revolt since they were never in use.) and enjoy a cup of hot coffee as I read through Jude Hill´s blog. For me it has turned into more that just a blog. It is a school, where I am taught to see the world differently, where I am taught how to see clearly, and yesterdays lesson was a beautiful one. It was about shot cotton, but it is so much more than just about cloth. I was about my past and my present and of course my future. It made me think about the little girl that I used to be. How I would play in the little garden that met the woods in Concordville, Pennsylvania. How  would wear shot cotton dresses with a crumpled waist and walk up and down a fallen old tree. How I would wait anxiously every weekend to spend time with my father and how most of those weekends were just a mere extension of his work week.

There were a few weekends that we were a little family, sitting on the big bolder that stood stubbornly in the middle of the creek and ate sandwiches, or watched for deers in the winter. Those warm cozy memories of unity and feeling complete and in the right place are all woven tightly in the shot cotton. But just was the shot cotton, once you ct it you see how easily the different threads start to unwind and unravel.

Now in the present I am once again closely staring atshot cotton and other fabrics as I used to as a child and once again I have a sense of unity, I feel complete and in the right place. However, I am afraid that one tug all could fall apart. It is just paranoia. I am an expert at it. I do have a bit of OCD. Itread softly when things seem to be going right. I try not to get my hopes up fearing that they will just get squished.

So as I put my fears and thoughts aside I continue with my little halloween cloth.

Costume rehersal

The curtains open, 

the wind takes center stage

dancing with the thousand colored leaves

the moon slowly appears 

As the moon floats higher in the night sky
we are greeted by the other characters

a cat with a golden streak, and a pumpkin with reminiscent eyes.
and just like that they leave us, and the curtains close once again.