Things are rarely
what you think
they pretend to be.
Do not mistake
Surviving and thriving
are two different things.
To each their own truth…
Jump over to the Stitching Tales for some better pics 🙂
Click HERE for more details if you feel so inclined.
These framed stories are the remnants of my imagination, they come by way of the past. I was raised by women who made delicious, beautiful, and functional things out of nothing. They hemmed, sewed, stitched, and grew gardens. Clothes, food, art; they made their own. My sister painted and I wrote.
My childhood was inscribed with the mantra, ‘Do what you can, with what you have, where you’re at.’ It became my preservation, a common thread, my restorative connection. These pieces of the handmade are dedicated to those women and the stories that came before me.
This has been a long time in the making and I’m thrilled to share it with you!
I take great pleasure in the little moments between things, when life is happening. Nothing is mundane or ordinary, every one has a story. If you see something that pleases you or you’d like something new, send me a hello. I’d be honored to stitch the tale of you!
She existed from the start of it,
molding stones and making mountains in her wake.
Watching over the wild of the world as the seasons changed.
She was the last of the forgotten left to make battle with the Sun.
Eternity kept her there.
She was the only one.
In the frail dips of ages,
her power began to grow.
The land was getting hotter now,
and her memory was old.
The Winter was within her.
It kept her young heart warm.
She roamed the land to collect its bits,
preparing for her storm.
Her hammer, once so mighty, could only
grant the cold of ice.
Her blue eyes, once young and shining, were now
the black of night.
With pale veins of blue and the sharpest sight,
this forgotten Goddess was ready for her fight.
to be continued…
My pink nun,
a Sister without a Mister stuck in time.
Stitched into canvas.
Forgotten and remembered at the same time.
She was a possibility once,
a desire to become.
I made her into art.
What’s done is done.