Where I Stand photo essay | Fibra Artysta

30 May 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:20:48 -0400

The summer solstice has not yet arrived but the sun beats down with a determination that smothers everything. It's a relentless crankiness that carries with it a fringe of irritation, nudging the days along at a sleepy pace.

20 June 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:16:07 -0400

When the work flows freely its hard to remember why its so hard at other times. My desire to make new work available to sell is creeping in, looking for a way to integrate itself into my usual routine of studio time. The assembly of the first three have sparked a storm of ideas that are sure to leave my mind spinning until I indulge it fully.

13 June 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:16:03 -0400

mild summer day

surrounded by animals

fingers and toes intact

06 June 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:15:21 -0400

Creating my own fabric is what pulls me back to fiber art every time. Layering, painting, screen printing, letting the images build in an unconscious kind of freedom is what embeds the energy that defines this medium for me.

23 May 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:15:18 -0400

six sided floor tiles
laid in hypnotic patterns
haiku of the past

16 May 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:15:15 -0400

It's the kind of silence that thrives in between the cracks, this place where there exists a space that is small and unassuming - quiet and content to be forgotten. My own solitude reaches out toward it, appreciating the companion that walks strongly here. I am struck by the stength of it, the confidence that pulses over everything in an almost sacred rhythm.

09 May 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:15:09 -0400

The spring weather is here by means of the date on the calendar only. The view out the front window is clear and full of sunlight but the temperature threatens to damage all the delicate things that have been thriving from the spring rains. The front foyer has become a temporary sanctuary, offering protection from mother nature's mood swings.

02 May 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:15:06 -0400

The spring thunderstorm growled firmly through the night. My sleep drunk mind vaguely touched on the tents of the fair waiting for me the next morning, wondering how they could possibly be strong enough to withstand the winds slapping against everything. Two steps out of the alley the following morning found a victim. Scattered flowers clung to the wet pavement and I paused, wondering at the transformation that can occur in the blink of a storm.

25 April 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:15:02 -0400

Chicago scrapes along in a frenzied hurry, 110 stories below my feet. A clear platform juts out from the side of one of the world's tallest buildings. The step out into nothing made my breath stutter, a strange sort of tentative awe settling in. Looking down on the breadth of the buildings huddled together along the water's edge feels surreal.

18 April 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:14:59 -0400

this is where i belong

amongst layers of fabrics and crowds of artists

my mind finds ease in this home

11 April 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:14:55 -0400

The building is stuffed full to capacity with homeless objects available for a new life. The pull to use things up rather then starting over is evident in this place. Everything waits for someone to take a second look, to see a faint possibility.

04 April 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:14:52 -0400

small sighs of growth

yellow blots out the resting season

soft earth hungry for growth

embracing the new beginning

28 March 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:27 -0400

thick gray buffer

entangled struggle for light

smudge of leftover color

quiet contemplation

21 March 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:23 -0400

It's the slipping away season, the shedding of layers and old intentions. The future bears down obvious as it marches forward, clashing with the past. It feels like the world is melting, slipping between the neat little rectangles in the grates, blurring ever so slightly as it shifts and begins again.

14 March 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:20 -0400

To non-knitters it simply looks like a pile of yarn cluttering my footrest, a slow growing puddle of fabric that is in the way. But what they don't know is that it is really a reward. A decompression of stitches picked up after a long day of obligation, a few precious moments waiting to soothe my mind into relaxation. It rests in this spot so that I will reach for it when the need is there, a constant companion that helps to slow the world down.

07 March 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:17 -0400

The winter thaw is pulling the unexpected to the surface, placing rainbows and rivers beneath our feet. It feels like walking across a daydream, the pulse of the earth quickening in fits of shudders and starts.

28 February 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:14 -0400

The cold sticks to everything, clinging like a two-year-old determined to get her way. Peeling back her fingers from her vice like grip seems an impossibility at the moment. The world is smeared black and white and gray beneath this fog, surrendering in a sleepy compliance.

21 February 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:04 -0400

Stepping downward, moving on, pushing forward. It can be one foot in front of another or a sudden rush down uneven heights. It takes a balance on every level, a certainty not in the outcome but in the decision to move forward with surefooted abandon. The freedom in the fall is only the beginning.

14 February 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:12:00 -0400

Falling into the abstract dance of shape and line is intoxicating, like looking inside a dream where none of the usual rules apply. My sketchbook happily bears the random movements and distraction. It's a source of ideas that is never lacking, a place where the simplest designs feel the truest.

07 February 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:11:55 -0400

Its like a brand, one I find myself trying to deny while constantly having to embrace it everyday. The chronic state of it is sometimes grinding, it changes everything down to the simplest task. but it is a part of me, has opened unexpected doors into goodness. After a decade of it, I find I can look around the sharp edges of it into the future without apprehension.

31 January 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:11:51 -0400

The long lazy brick wall snaking beneath the ornate wrought iron fence divides the current calendar and history neatly, like a sharp slice of the scissors. It is protective, rearing up in defense as one approaches the old house. Its birthday is buried back in the early 1900s, a time I've dreamt of, constantly enamored with warm wood trims, stained glass windows and minute details that speak to a unique artistry long gone.

24 January 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:08:21 -0400

It’s a strange pock marked game of peek-a-boo. The grass pokes up green from beneath the slushy snow, surprisingly green for all the abuse it has taken over the past few months. As the rain splats across the stubborn snow, the idea of spring sneaks into the back of my mind, daydreaming of days of mild temperatures and delicate flowers.

17 January 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:07:50 -0400

It began as a way to dispel grief, a place to go where nothing but peaceful repetition and serenity is allowed to dwell. The knitting community reaches all around the globe, bound in a common language and affection for an ancient fiber art. It has earned a permanent place on the roster, a reliable friend with an outstretched hand whenever one is needed.

10 January 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:07:09 -0400

The colors in Detroit's Mexicantown burn brightly against the paleness of winter. I'm drawn to them again and again, admiring the vibrancy of it all. A fascination with Dia de los Muertos stays at the forefront, reminding me to celebrate this life every day.

03 January 2010

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:06:15 -0400

The new year pulls with it a long string of new ideas, new activities, new means of creating. But the old burden of chaos keeps me away, avoiding the place where all of it should begin. A fierce determination nags at me, clicking everything into neat sections, forcing items into orderly boxes. A small file system marks the beginning, bearing the words I strive for most for this space: organize, orderly, system, labeled, in its place, accessible, inspiring, contained, productive, easy, organize…

27 December 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:05:37 -0400

The calendar is near exhaustion, almost entirely used up. The past twelve months blur slowly into each other, melding into the mold of the past. I’ve walked across 2009 with firm footsteps, determined to leave an even print during the solid as well as the weak moments. The upcoming year is entirely undefined, something that I’ve not faced for some time. I plan to hold it lightly in my hand and watch, pushing softly around the edges for a simplicity that fulfills every need.

20 December 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:04:53 -0400

The snow paints a whitewash across every surface, throwing the silhouette of the trees into a black charcoal outline. Their branches stretch out in long spindly shadows across the unbroken surface of frozen rain, twisting lazily in a circle as the sun shifts from one point in the sky to the next. Its like a living etch-a-sketch, a succession of lines drawn lightly and erased with a soft flick of light and wind.

13 December 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:04:07 -0400

The emptying of one season into the next is like the pages of a journal, an opportunity to deposit all the leftovers of thought and imagination. The transition to winter is late this calendar, taking its time, in no rush. As the cold wind whips across the surfaces brave enough to be in its way, the impatience grows into an irritated sigh, a strong want for one thing to be over and the next to begin.

06 December 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:03:22 -0400

The determined glow of the lights struggle to stake their claim against the moodiness of the night. It is a stark contrast to the sharp prickly wind, offering a glow that draws the eye and the mind in search of warmth. It is a quiet signal that the year is quietly shutting its door, its hinges creaking sleepily after several months of hard work.

30 November 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:02:38 -0400

The list of excuses has dwindled down to a single sentence, one that is not strong enough to hold weight. The needle slides through the fabric, creating the familiar rhythm of meditation. The small works are placed out like a peace offering, new and unsure and full of hope. My mind wraps around them in a single strand of pride, knowing that they are the best they can be.

22 November 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 15:01:30 -0400

She reaches out to me, pushing against the pages of the book, searching for a view of her own hand. Each day that passes by she becomes more real, a friend that is always with me. I can feel the wind against her face as she lingers at the end of her dock, contemplating the things hiding in the river. The only obstacle standing between her and the world is my fingers against the keyboard, searching for the right way to give her voice.

15 November 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 14:59:56 -0400

My imagination has plummeted into overdrive, yanking and stretching in a mad fit to be satisfied. Projects spool in front of me, half finished as they wait to uncoil into reality, directing my fingers as I stitch and cut and assemble.

08 November 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 14:59:04 -0400

A sleepy contentment has taken up residence in me, easy and calm and welcome. Its a kindness I am gripping with both hands, this chance to slow down and see everything around me in fine detail. Everything seems possible in this moment, every door has clicked open. The respite will break eventually but until then, I will trace the outline of doorknobs with my fingertips and relish the freedom.

01 November 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 14:57:47 -0400

The sculpture of erosion cracks across the wood, inviting pocks of moss and decay. Its like looking down from an airplane, watching the peaks of mountains pull away from valleys. This world is the result of a tree that could bear to stand no longer, all that is left of its decades of occupation. The ground is slowly creeping back up over it, working silently to reclaim it.

25 October 2009

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 14:07:45 -0400

The shape, color, smell all play against the edges of my imagination. It’s a hungry idea, this portrait of a world that exists in a limbo of this season. It leaks to the surface once a year, engulfing the tired world in a burning madness of color so full it can only exist in the span of a hundred breaths.