Saturday, October 9, 2010
I understand my life and my work as a crocheted crazy quilt. The thread changes, stitches vary in size and spacing, ripples form throughout the fabric even as it grows. The end of each thread is tied to its predecessor, each stitch dependant on its confederates. After a while and with practice it begins to even out, growing into substance. Beautiful here, failed there. My work in every way is a series of minute tasks, deeply linked, one end to another.
In the studio there is the neuroticism of being alone with what one has made and trying to divine its merit. To see what one has done.
And then there is comfort in the comings and goings of others invested in this same way.