flame - the element of passion
Sometimes a deep experience needs to find its
way into creative expression — moving from the
inside out. I designed and sewed this quilt after a
sabbatical exploring the European women
mystics.
It begins as timid warmth
fed by wax and wick –
exposed to currents, breezes and breath.
Fed with fuel
it gains confidence –
aflame with color and flickering facets,
able to light dark corners.
Left untended
wax and wick expire – and so the flame.
Tended and fed, stoked and freed,
reluctance gains energy,
heat and light expand
to transform its space.
Sparks escape, seeking
new fuel -- more life -- less restraint.
A shy notion becomes reality.
Mere interest becomes commitment.
A longing becomes deep Passion.
daybreak at the lake
Painting with fabric to tell a story
Slowing Down
I am used to walking fast –
Clear the way!
I have a goal
moving forward
daring each obstacle
to move aside.
But some things slow me down
My dog needs rest.
I smell lavender.
My knee stings.
It starts to rain.
The sun rises
to meet the lake.
This daily miracle demands a pause –
Too many colors
to take in at once
as they collide –
Orange and yellow
insisting their presence
against the lazy blue lake.
A covid garden
What to do with all this time? Make a quilt — grow a garden — give it light and shade. Paint a hopeful picture. It took awhile with this quilting method of layering strips of fabric from the middle out. But it bloomed!
Place of respite.
Place of calm.
Yet, a riot of color, shape and
seductive layers cry for attention.
Come close – really close –
you can hear it grow —
each stem reaching toward solar vibrations.
Watch green stretching into yellow
or red or pink – or more green –
exhaling life into life.
Feel energy just below the surfaces.
Follow their roots,
diving down, spreading out to grasp
every morsel of earth’s nourishment.
Gardens give us new eyes,
offer release — refreshment —
call for lighter steps.
In such intimacy
Union is irresistible.
Too many roses
When I visited my brother’s new cabin I was intrigued with the rose rug they had chosen for the dining room. I thought — I could make a quilt like that. So, I did, and this is what emerged.
my inner landscape
It was a challenge. How might we describe our
“inner landscape?” What makes us who we are?
My response was this quilt — a trellis holding
together passion, growth, beauty, and experience.
My book of poetry includes reflections on these
personal yet universal human elements.
What makes up my me?
What holds me together?
I am a reflection of all the elements.
I reconfigure the same molecules
that make up
fire
earth
water and
air.
Like the earth’s skin of atmosphere
I am held in form and shape.
Like the molten center
I contain a fiery passion
and heat of conviction.
Like the eons of layers of transformed remnants
I cannot deny my earthiness.
Like waters that run deep and flow out
I am a well of life-giving fluids.
Like the swirling, ever moving air
I thrive on both calm breeze
and turbulent wind.
But I am more ...
I am more than basic elements.
I am more than a reflection of primal forces.
I am green from growing.
I am rosy and sunny and vermillion,
flowering today and tomorrow.
I am dark corners of untended life,
painful memories and mystery.
I am the bedrock and humus
of collected generations.
What holds me together?
Through it all runs a vein of Golden Presence
reflecting and financing
what lies within and
what seeps out.
And, like a trellis holding and propping
the wayward plant,
my truths and learnings
support and shape my me.
The energy that is created at the center
fuels and sustains the whole of me.
And it can do nothing less
than meet the energy
that fuels the world.
whales and butterflies
Sometimes the fabric itself tells one story and the
quilt construction gives it perspective. Check out
the whales in the lower right fabric merging into
butterflies to the upper left. The pattern is the oldfashioned
“bowties.” Did you know quilt patterns
have names?
Diving deep within
unleashing dark memories
gives bright wings to the past
moonscape
The moon and its many phases spark poetic imagination. These neutral colors invited subtlety and nuance. Cutting a finished square in half and joining it with another was a new challenge.
Luna’s Fate
Not yet dark – deep blackness of night’s void
but dark enough – late enough with
shadows dominating its predictable presence.
Because of her season –
her soft, luminous, creamy glow –
imperfectly round now with a
loss of fullness eroded by time’s cycle,
Luna did not hang high
but rested gently
on the fence of the horizon.
Her belly is full – weighted still
with previous days’ blessings.
Yet, no matter how many times
she loses herself she will never
truly love the loss.
Even the promise
of complete freedom of form
is no consolation
to the nightly loss of her being.
The prospect of fullness, wholeness
does not relieve
the eternal, never-ending recurrence
of change.
Still she endures and celebrates her union
with the dark sky.
It’s constant presence
gives comfort –
gives perspective –
gives strength
through the changes.
follow the yellow brick road
I discovered stories of how quilters displayed certain patterns on porch rails to communicate with other slaves seeking freedom. The advice that inspired this quilt, “always travel a crooked path” has no straight seams.
They made squares
by hand
stitch by tiny stitch
from shirts too old
and blankets too worn.
They stitched squares
together
joining one to another
to tell a story
someone else would read.
They stitched squares
with purpose –
they were beautiful
and also useful
to the ones who run north.
They stitched squares
with instructions
“follow the geese”
“take the drunkard path”
(Satan only travels in a straight line)
They stitched squares
for freedom,
hung on the porch rail
declaring “now is the time” . . .
to follow the yellow brick road.
finding stars in my garden
Though I start with a plan, sometimes a quilt will
write itself and I have to work hard to catch up
with it. That was true with this quilt. In the end, I
realized heaven and earth were being joined in
these triangles and squares. (And the back inishes
the story.)
Who doesn’t notice stars
in a night sky?
Bright stars that make up a bear?
Brilliant stars that cling to the moon?
What would happen if one of them fell?
How could the dippers spare even
one star?
Why would the dark release even
one light?
Last week, I found some stars
in my garden.
Bright stars that shine on the vines.
Brilliant stars that hang on a rose.
Why don’t these flames stay
Where they belong?
How could the heavens
fall to the earth?
Oh, what if they haven’t fallen at all
but overlapped all along?
Bright stars that live in the shade.
Brilliant stars that hide in the sun.
What if these sky bits
have always been here?
Last week, I found some stars
in my garden.
how do you frame a life
I made this quilt with my sister, Ginger Staack, to commemorate our brother’s life. She had embroidered shirts for him, chose the fabric and asked me to make a quilt. I designed and sewed it. The blue squares were Bill’s chambray shirts.
How do you frame a life?
How do you frame a life
a life lived so large
a life of success
a life of justice
How do you frame a life?
with so many straight lines
that might have been lived
with more curves
How do you contain a life?
that held too many memories
that sent down deep roots
but produced no flowers
How do you frame a life
seeing beyond the lines and
through the memories?
piece by loving piece.