I D E A S   I N   C L O T H the Blog

Writing in Bed

I do my best writing in bed. There is no pen or paper involved. Neither stories of salacious bedroom abandon. I’m in bed, at the precipice of sleep and awake and I’m talking to myself without a sound. My mind is fluid as sap, coasting slowly among inchoate wormholes, cul-de-sacs of thought that spark momentary clarity amid the inky darkness. I find puzzle pieces in some, imagery and perfect metaphors in others. Whether I drift into sleep or awaken too quickly, I could lose sight of intuition's narrow light. Dreams might further the vision or not. More likely, I am sitting at my desk later that morning, eyes clenched tightly, mind grasping at the tether to ideas that withers without a

Prescription in Pink

I can’t resist the possibilities of a plant for color. Leaves, seeds and petals. They lure the explorer in me to splash around for surprises. This summer I've cultivated hopi sunflowers for their india ink black. The amaranth has grown tall in the garden, embracing its ruby stems and leaves with a blanket of southern heat. In Northern California , roses tempt me , their petticoats aflutter as they climb the garden palisade. Varieties I have no names for, from white to pale yellow that hombre to fuschia. Or magenta. Velvet corolla luring the lady. It's the season for roses. Edible, like the amaranth, but more willing to yield their blush to the cloth. Amaranth is a tease...at least my expe

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    Threads of Meaning, Meditative Stitching, Art Practice, Art Process, Color Theory, Individual Online Instruction, Online Workshop, Textile Art,  Contemporary Embroidery