I feel as if I am rooted in multiple words, twining threads in the temporal while wondering the spaces where all things meet. Imaginings buried deep in the earth and among the clouds come to life in color and form in an object of protection and love. I work to explore the nature of being through the sensory experience of texture and color. I long to capture the humid still-warm summer morning smell and ache of love for precious visions of nearly inconceivable color as daylight shifts from day into night, and of landscapes I feel in my bones.
This piece was woven by me, here at my home-studio in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico with a warp of organic cotton-linen and a weft of naturally dyed raw silk. Into the weft were woven myriad motions of thought embodied through colors of the earth. Into the middle is a mane of raw silk fringe that was knotted into the warp while weaving. It is 2.9m in length with hand twined fringe on each end.
Black Oaks by Mary Oliver
Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,
or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.
But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen
and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage
of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.
Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.
Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?
For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.
And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,
I don't even want to come in out of the rain.