On Tangled Messes...

“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing,” Arundhati Roy: War Talk. 

This morning I was tearing down paper for my daily project thinking about the latest shootings and not knowing what to say or think. I read the above passage and thought how much I wanted to hear it too. The sounds of a new world almost upon us.

As I continued to fold and tear sheets I got to one piece and knew I wanted to paint something else. Something in addition.

I drew this. I knew it was about dark and light and our involvement in all of it. Our engagement with it. I wasn't certain beyond that.

I sewed the "light" and found what I love most is the tangled mess of all the loose threads because really that's what transition feels like. 

Now I think I can hear the slightest breath of change (and I'm wondering how to starch the threads without ruining the painting).