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There's been a bad case of start-itis going on around here, but finally some pieces were finished.
Trees, moons, ships, and a still life in pink. Stories of celebration, wonder, connection, and being there for yourself- the tales I tell myself over and over to carry me through.
If you're in search of a story too, they're in the shop here, thanks for taking a peek.
Some of Heike's lovely soft pinks.
The roses were a surprise from K. I was going to crop the chaos of my table out, but it is how it is. Clearing a spot on it would have taken until tomorrow.
Scattered around on the table are these little painted swashes of color. Every so often, one is unearthed and turned into a gem. It's relaxing, and it's silly how much I enjoy making them.
Lest you think this group of photos give you a true picture of my life...
There was a virtual therapy session the other day. One that went fifteen minutes overtime, as she tried to get through to me, as I shook my head "NO," saying "That's NOT going to happen," and realizing that I was stabbing a notebook with scissors. It ended with her asking me to at least try to imagine it.
A peaceful pretty stitching in progress. All of these-stitching, painting jewels, soft petals... I think that they are a way of imagining it.
Moon had a really good day yesterday (even without a hug from his girlfriend or a car). Blue joined us via Facetime in singing Happy Birthday over candle lit donuts. We even did a family selfie with Blue on a phone screen. A sign of the times.
The three of us stayed up until midnight eating donuts and watching Moon's choice of a Harry Potter movie (which made me happy to know that he's still just a big kid, in spite of telling us all day long that he's an adult now.)
I've been absent a lot here and on the internet in general. Between things that have happened for us, and the nothing of most days, my lack of oomph won out. Really, we are ok enough, and better off than so many.
I'm still feeling storyless, actually, that's not true- yesterday triggered bad memories from my 18th birthday, but I don't want to write about that.
There has been stitching. These patchwork pieces keep coming. They surprise me and I like them. Onward...
"Moons of Happiness" Summer 2002, for my baby Moon.
Today is his eighteenth birthday. He's at a park this afternoon with his girlfriend and a couple of friends, just as he should be. Although, there are masks and social distancing happening. All he wants for his birthday is a hug from her (and a car), neither are likely to happen, poor guy.
He was my Moominbaby. We took him outside to see the moon the night he was born.
These eyes, from the first moment. He was born in a birthing tub, I meant to get out, but he came too fast. I pulled him up to me, and he looked at me with them, and I knew he was intensely Himself, and a gift.
I was right, about both things, and still, these eyes.
Like a leaf.
I grow more and more feral. Conversations stop midway for lack of words, or ability to find them.
It grew, and I thought about the first time this sort of thing happened. Way back when, stitching together scraps and how they became one cloth with Jude's glue stitch, with white cloth, while camping. It felt like magic.
Still feels that way, but there's more now. A kind of watching in the process, thinking about what works and doesn't and why. And loving the process, and learning about cloth and myself along the way.
Something in this piecework is is holding me together this week, and helping to move me forward.
I wish I had a story to share...
but I can barely remember yesterday.
In remembrance of Michael Brown (1996-2014)
Social Justice Sewing Academy Remembrance Project
Next it will travel to those who will quilt and stitch it and other blocks into "activist art banners for local and national activist organizations who have requested creative statements to be publicly displayed that represent solidarity as well as remembrance. This partnership will create a visual statement to memorialize those who have been unjustly murdered by police, racial vigilantism, or as a result of their gender, sexual orientation and other forms of identity politics. These artivism blocks will honor the lives of individuals through symbolism and portrait. Their names and identities will be displayed during community activism events reminding the world that their lives mattered."
(Please visit the link above to learn more about the project and other empowering work of this wonderful organization. This line in their description strikes my heart... "When you take a step back and look at the sheer size of the exhibit you realize the tragic fact that you will run out of volunteers long before you run out of names.")
That little silver starred blue patch in the middle right is a scrap of mama love. A bit of the cloth that was used in both Blue's and Moon's baby quilts. A gift from K. when I was pregnant with Blue, and finally feeling safe enough to hope he would really come. Now, ages 22 and almost 18, my boys are here, filled with ideas and hopes, with their whole lives ahead of them.
Michael should be a 24 year old young man now, he should be making the music he loved, working at a job that his college education would have led to, hanging out with friends, living and filling his life with ideas and hopes.
This time of stitching this block and thinking on what I've been able to learn about Michael have been a journey. Reading the stories about Michael's killing, the two sides of it- He had problems/he had promise, he jaywalked and shoplifted/he was joking around, he charged the officer/he had his hands up and called "Don't shoot!".... It's easy to get lost in the "He said/He saids" of it all. But they don't matter.
What is true is that he was an unarmed human being who is now dead.
There is so much to muddle through in anti-racist work, inside and out. As a mama, a white woman and a human being, I worried about getting this square Right. Not for me, but in honor of Michael and those who loved him. I know that it isn't possible, there is no "Right" in any of this. I'm learning that it's important to being willing to be uncomfortable, unsure, wrong, and to keep trying, to do better for Michael, for those who loved and lost him, and for so many others... for all of us.
