A painted dot. Actually this is an old one. Painting that is. Cropped to make a dot. A dot can bring focus. Make more of a point. And it’s looking at you as if to say, well everything you need to hear. Which, of course, you can already say to yourself. You don’t need me for that.
So so warm. Rain. This is as close as I can get to a snowman being, but I can stitch one.. No snow, that will change. We are home again. That will change. The Alphabet Soup quilt has changed hands. Cannot believe I took no picture. I think I was in a joyous fog. Bruno has us waiting. That will change. This is a Just Going patch. I have made many of these moon(dot) faced beasts. I realize they are […]
Morning Fog… Last night, looking at yesterday’s dot, talking to myself… I have so many questions. I feel a bit outside of myself. Not sure what I mean by that. This morning wondering if this Bird Robe will become a dot diary for 2023. I really do have enough blankets. Many unfinished. Maybe dots will be a way to finish a lot of things. Even though a dot has always been a way to begin.
Good Morning. We are here. I made my first Dot for 2023. I put it on my Bird Robe. It is a thought catcher, this robe. For the record. That’s it. Coffee next. Thank you for all your kind comments yesterday. My goal for this year. Keep it simple. And a dot is always a way to begin.
2008 ? ! I am really sorting through the past, trying desperately to open some space in my brain for newness. I came across this article from way back, Artful Blogging Magazine which has since been retired. Back when blogging was just blossoming. New. I was there. So were a lot of you. I kept the pages because they seem antique. Maybe I will use them to paint on. Or something. Over the years I have disengaged with being published […]
A magic-dot. Magic Dots. A component. They go way back. Found in a basket this morning. Imagine many of them, very many. All stitched together. A quilt might be as simple as that. This one is a bit messy. But it holds together. I thought today, in a way, it is a self portrait. A stray self. What if stray selves are also building blocks? I can pretty it up a bit, but sometimes that doesn’t matter. Mostly. 3 ” […]
Humid, way hot, yet turning. The light begins to seep through the tired foliage. We are opening to autumn. I am back to the circle that I drew on Grow, tracing the edge of the round glass table it sits on. Maybe it just defined my current reach. Now red, like a ring of fire.