I’m certain that I have a series about the people, places and things that influence and inspire my artwork on my old Blogspot blog, but I need to begin again here. I’ve hinted here earlier at one thing that inspired me to start making boxes, but there is more to my boxes than a Steinbeck quote.
While traveling two-lane by-ways and backroads, I have cultivated a fascination with run-down, abandoned buildings. There are so many untold stories hidden in the crumbling walls, fallen fences, twisted signs and rusted metal.
Over the years, I have collected many photographs from my travels of all sorts of weathered and forgotten structures, from the farm lanes of Southeast Ohio to the windswept deserts along Route 66.
Broken windows, crumbling brick, gaps in wood planks, precarious listing to one side, patched holes, bent framing… the wear and tear of old buildings is visual poetry to me. It wasn’t until I had completed several of my small fabric boxes that I realized I was subconsciously capturing architectural decay in them.
The boxes began where other projects ended. The first boxes that I made used scraps from other fabric collages, and my decision to embellish each side independent of the others further conveys the spirit of dilapidated structures. The process of pulling the box sides up and hand stitching them creates subtle warping, twisting and bending, completing my interpretation of things that are run down. I love making them, and I like to think of them as little shrines to the past.
Each season out here has its own particular charms that intrigue me. Right now, it is being able to see the gentle rolling of the land without piles of wild brush and lushly leafed trees hiding the topographical details. The branches of the same trees are wrapped with feathery blue-gray lichens, unnoticed in the spring and summer months. When the cold winds whip through the valleys, I stay in and stitch the summer flowers to keep warm thoughts of the growing season in my mind.
There are certain points along the property where I live that I visit frequently to note changes as the season roll through the year. At the end of my long driveway is one of those points. Across the road is a neglected cow pasture that fills out in summer with a riot of wildflowers: soft purple chicory, Queen Anne’s Lace, blaze orange butterfly weed, mullein reaching to the sky, jewelweed, and sometimes a bright red Canadian Lily.
Later in the season, iron weed, Joe Pye weed, goldenrods and asters take over with a different palette of colors and textures. I have already made several felted and stitched portraits of the fence row, and more are in the works.
I don’t know if I will ever tire of stitching these roadside meadows. So many people speed past them, in a hurry to get somewhere, and they never notice the flower show to the side. It doesn’t show up on their GPS.
When was the last time that you were in a place so quiet and serene that you could hear a leaf fall? I have that opportunity this time of year, if there is no wind, and the cattle are quiet, to listen for the barely perceptible swish of a spent leaf coming to rest among its companions now carpeting the ground.
Being creative is not only about observing things around us that often go unnoticed – this demands a high degree of awareness of the many things in our day to day lives. Creativity is also being able to zone in on one of those little details, and for a moment, focusing on that one thing, shutting out all the other chatter and clutter. Then, we must find our own way to capture that moment, that detail, in a way to share with others. Listen for that one little leaf, and tell someone about it.
Check back next week, I’ll share some more of my little creative moments from the weekend – more ICAD adventures and moments of stitching.
I meant to get a post out on Tuesday. I also had intentions of working on a promotional letter for a trunk show, or one of several ideas for classes. In a corner rests a pile of things I wanted to take pictures to put on my forthcoming online store. None of that happened.
I took what was to be a short walk to clear my head, and I stopped halfway up the hill to admire some fallen sassafras leaves.
While wandering in the woods, I gathered a bucket of sticks for kindling in the wood burner, and found a few twigs with lichen encrusting them, and I studied the ruffles wrapping around the sticks a bit too long. At the top of the hill, I watched a couple of deer munching on acorns for a while, and then turned back to the west and watched the sunset in horizontal ribbons of blue-gray, peach and orange, striated vertically by the dark outlines of the trees.
After dark, I lit a candle in a pumpkin that volunteered in my garden this year and I carved a couple days ago, watching the flickering light while sipping on some hot cider.
I don’t feel that I wasted any time.
Rags Paper Stitches is
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About This Site
Welcome to the online home of Rebecca Hosta, an award-winning textile artist and dealer of eclectic hand dyed fabrics, quality embroidery threads and unusual embellishing items. Please keep checking back for the opening of my online store.