My mom is a quilter, so every now and again the patterns and stitches that sneak into something I make form an obvious connection. This "wood quilt" is made with wood-burned wood, a little fabric and copper wire. I like that it notions towards fabric and patchwork, what I grew up.
With fibers things can be torn and mended, seams can be strengthened, holes can be patched. Fabrics can be purposefully or accidentally ripped apart and sewn back together to more than was there before. They are full of opportunity, and when something goes wrong, stitches can be picked out. They’re full of hope. They can be more hopeful than the rips and tears in out lives can make us
But alas, this wood is not really fabric and the world of ideal fibers is not real. Cuts in skin may be stitched back together, but there is pain, resistance, scars, tissue that never quite regains the softness and tenderness it once possessed. Cars break down, people do too, and neither is so easy to fix as patchwork.
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