Saturday afternoon I just needed something bigger to stitch on. These cloths were at hand. A comforting hill.
With Jude's beasts in mind (I love them so). Thinking about most of my self-portraits either have no mouth at all, or are wide open, screaming things from the deep.
Hills. Folks see portals. Maybe they are the same thing? A way through. Or over. Or a place to rest and make daisy chains.
We are waiting to hear some news. Which way it will go, we don't know. Which answer will be good or hard, we don't know. So, just hoping for how it might be.
Layers are cut away, making new shapes to work with. They are shifted and rearranged as they accumulate. There are no rules, just going.
In the middle of it all, I wonder what we want? What we need? How to want what we will have? Mostly I do.
Hills, portals, places of in-between...brinks of stories.
