Yesterday I suffered from a rush of blood to the head. I have beeb thinking and absorbing my workshop in Ballarat with Beverly Ayling-Smith, thinking about memory and truth, and working on some ideas and research. Very slow and very frustrating.
Suddenly I rushed into my bin of solid coloured cotton fabrics and ironed and cut and stitched strips into stripes.
I found a range of glorious colours in lights and darks and made a series of striped fabrics ready to make post and rail blocks.
I was quite excited and looked at Maria Shell's work. I love her colour palette and what she does with small pieces of fabric.
By the end of the day I am thinking what am I doing and in the evening I read my colour workbook and got excited.
And then most of the night I thought about the direction of my work - what am I really doing? And today I have my beautiful pieces of 4 X 4 ins sheeting painted with bitumous paint, sanded, stitched and painted with whitw emulsion paint. They are the beginnings of a piece called "Sticks and Stones"
They are all torn 4 X 4 in pieces, and are intended to be a series of units that will make up a whole. They are hand size and reflect the intimacies and hurts in life.
By now I am wondering about my coloured pieces. I still love them. They are sort of a detour. What do I do with these detours? Just get more petrol? Get rid of the coloured cloth? Decide on my focus and get rid of everything else?
What do you do when you have a rush of blood to the head? Do you even have them?
"I paint flowers so they do not die." Frida Kahlo