I am really loving the possibilities afforded by digital printing on fabric. What is the relationship between the digital image I make and the finished textile, though? How much embellishment is needed vs. it becoming merely decorative? Are the "naked" images ever enough to call them art? They might be. Maybe in print form? Can I allow my artistic self to branch out a bit and "see" my art differently? I have a room full of art slides of historical images I am waiting to play with, and am still working on the first one I scanned and used over a year ago. I like my textile art because it shows evidence of my breath, my action, my being, one stitch or bead placed at a time. The overall effect resonates with my energy. Over the top? Yeah, you could say that. But that is the cloth I am made of, in many ways.
Without being too maudlin, I get the sense that with the RA (and the meds I take for it) and my family history that longevity is not on the cards, and I tend to try to make the most of life. And every art piece, I think. Every day, every relationship. All we all have, from day to day, is now. A little future, maybe, but mostly today. The heavily stitched and beaded pieces is my way of saying "I've been here," I think. Strange thoughts this morning. Strange times, too, I think. As my ex-husband said, it is all kind of silly, though as there is truth to his words of "when you are dead all your art will end up in the trash." I don't think that really matters, though. The trash pile will be pretty! When art is what you do, you just gotta do it.
I look around me and see a huge amount of physical work that needs doing, and my legs just aren't ready yet. Maybe this gap of time makes me more reflective. Brain ready, body not! But I also see my three elderly pups, curled up siggeldy-piggeldy on a big pile of dog beds and blankets, accepting that their breakfast needs to wait for my legs, too. My love for them goes deeper than just about anything. My cats stride through the room, monitoring the hidden feline airwaves for sounds I can not hear, letting me know all is well. The birds offer their vocal two cents, but aren't very demanding. They all get the routine. I am grateful for such unwavering love and support from my "kids." If only people were as understanding.
C'mon legs. There is art to make, dog laundry to do, and floors to clean. Let the day begin!