strange how one can adapt

 

it is strange how i have gotten used to not having a space of my own. I lived for so long in another person's space I got used to collecting my things every day and storing them in bags. It is quite an emotional venture to actually hang things on walls, organize things how you want them and trying to not think about how that will not be the permanent spot. I have to keep on telling myself, " Its ok, these are your walls. you are staying here until You want to leave." It actually feels surreal to have furniture again, and unearth forgotten pictures. 

Those masks on the wall are from our wedding, back in 2007. 

once upon a night so dreary

when fog and mist came up, not mearly

to scare the mighty and take flight

from such a  horrible, monstrous sight

He prayed for his sake to leave such a place

but the image remained like a grooling embrace

what had led him to wandering and snoop around?

especially in such a frightening town

If only he had listened to what the peopled warned

since then all the inhabitants mourned

that dreary night

the end of Mr. Bartholomew White.

The hatching

An old moon, rectangularized by conformity. A cat petrified by time, and a pare of pumpkins waiting to hatch.

Pumpkins

With the changing season I am beginning to get into the holiday season mood. I love it when the weather cools, because of the celebrations Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and ending with Easter.
Therefore I have been trying to create a halloween inspired cloth, however, the pieces do not seem to fit. I cannot find the right way to put them on the cloth. It either seems to empty too crowded or not right....
Thus I go to where I always like to go, back in time for inspiration.
Here are some wonderful examples of vintage halloween postcars, greeting cards, and such.

Transending cascade

The continuation of the cascade of colors. The background, I believe makes my camera dizzy, thus the odd picture of the right.

cascade of color

another impulse creation. There are so many questions attached to this. Why did I feel the physical need to make this? I know the idea behind it, but what does it mean?

fall in the forest

I returned to the forest to witness once again the changing landscape. To me it is God's constant canvas. The skies were clear. The wind was cool and comforting. The fields were waves of colors. Some were cut wheat brown, others dark manure brown, and a couple deep grass green. As I walked my familiar path of memories of the little village I looked for other colors.

Red poppies, all in their different stages of life reminded me of my dear Poppy as a young dog, an aging dogand a spirit that plays among us. 

 

Light pink roses, marked by the harsh weather of the changing season reminded me of the peaks and valleys while I lived among them.

The golden, rotting, and fallen apple made me think of the unity and individuality of us all. 

And finally the melodic, peaceful, beautiful dew drops that shine a million colors. The little sunshine capsules. The holders of forever light.

Impulsive stitching

I have been thinking about how artist create, and I have always known that I create on an impulse. I feel my neurons firing off signals to my hands and I run to grab a piece of paper, pen, cloth, paint brush, whatever I find. I let myself create whatever it is that i need to create, and usually I do not think about the process. If I do stop and think it becomes impossible to continue. I recall a lecture that I watched about creativity and the lecturer quoted a famous female poet, whose name evades me at the moment, however she said that creativity was like a flying muse, beast, entity that would swoosh by her and if she did not grab on to that pencil on time the creativity would leave her and land on another. There were times that this poet would grab the creative beast by the tale right as it was about to leave her, and the poem would come out backwards. That is how I feel whenever I create, as if I am open for the possibility and therefore it falls upon me. This thought fell upon me while I was waiting for my computer to find my wireless router. I imagined an energetic hook reaching out into the sea of waves and frequencies trying to latch on. 

This led me to think about string theory....yes I know I am odd, a nerd, I love it. And I had the urge to create a flat a loose interpretation of existence, which for me are divided basically in three things. All things come in threes.

The infinite

The logical

and

The abstract. 

I have started on the logical.

That to me seems to be surrounded by confusion. I recall many times being confused by the logical answer in physics or trigonometry.

And as I believe all things were once in chaos, so is my pile of fabric. 

Just a side note, but i love how spirals are everywhere. The spiral, is a symbol I have identified since High school. I find the idea of it being both two dimensional and three dimensional at the same time to be so beautifully complex. How a symbol can describe the presence of past, present and future in one moment. How the history creates the present moment, which will impact the future....Not only does it express time, but also thoughts, behavior, history, existence, Infinite possbilities...

Things to come

 I will be adding more things to my shop. Here is a sneak peak at some of my new creations. The Harvesting Time is close to completion. The Wishing tree is a new journey that deserves a post on its own. I have returned once again to my love of trees.

Serendipitous, who was left behind, has now returned to my hands and is going to be completed as well. And finally my insanity, divided into nine little beasts (There are more thought) is a must be finished idea. I need to release them in order to breathe and forgive, and hopefully forget. However, the scars are there, the memories stay. These nine little beasts have brought me to where I am now and I must still thank them and I send them on their way.

Hither to the harvest,

I have harvested time in the harvesting time that is approaching rapidly. it amazes me how in this life time flies away from us, as if we were its enemy. What if, in the infinite amount of parallel dimensions, there were a place where one could actually grow time and harvest it. Time would be a delicious fruit in a place where one could choose how much time one wanted...but then, what would the limiting or finite precious commodity be?

A physical thought

Today I have been contemplating thoughts and the idea of rawness, after reading StoryCloth´s post today. I wanted to trap a thought. And this was the result. The raw progression of a thought. The way it weaves and wanders through the brain, through memories, and images until ripening. A thought that is still entangled in a universe of its own. A thought, such a complex unit.
I am not quite sure if I like this yet....we shall see where it goes.

As the rain fell

Yesterday we decided to wander through our new city and discover its hidden wonders. 

We encountered many surprisingly beautiful sites, and some somber and sad. 

We wandered through a tunnel of red that lead us to a clash between the past and the present. 

I gazed at this once beautiful cathedral, that was now hollowed out and turned into a pizzeria where children played where the  faithful used to pray, and people drank wine where communion was once held. It made me think of many things. I thought of how this beautiful sanctuary was destroyed in the war and how there wasn't any money available to restore it. Then I thought of how faith is changing and transforming. I thought of how people now only believe in what can be proven by scientific facts, and how those findings are valid one moment and invalid the next.

We then continued on and encountered shopping streets full of closed stores, since it was Sunday, which were all post war constructions. They are boxy, characterless, and dull. I closed my eyes for a few seconds as I could hear the echoing of people walking down the cobblestone paths and I tried to imagine the splendid architecture that once was. There were only a few reminders of how beautiful this city must have been. One of those is the St. Ludwig Cathedral.

Once at home, I was searching through my fabrics to recreate such a exhilarating journey.

And as I beagn to piece together a tale of a wanderer, I began to question the idea of dimensions. What if we were able to dangle and peek through a different dimension that was unfamiliar to us. 

What if this wanderer was a dimensional wanderer trying to discover space and time through their own desires?

Thus the wanderer dangles through our dimension questioning, and making me question as well. How would he view this life?