Thursday, October 01, 2015

Dearest, dearest Dawn

Dearest, dearest Dawn . . . glued, painted, knitted and sewn.
Only written letters begin as such.

I get sparked and mired simultaneously in other people's art. The recent hooks have been Orly Avineri and Seth Apter ~ mixed media collage artists, art journal book makers. Especially Orly's pages as she moved far away from words to create her pages. I write a lot. I like to write which is why I have a notebook just for that. I've always kept a journal in one form or another, mainly just because. No goals of self exploration or healing ~ just writing.

Of floor plans.
As I looked through nearly all of Orly's images from 2008 on, I thought, Golly, I wish I could find ephemera like that to put in my pages. Letters written, old photos, odd ledgers with red and blue lines. And I've had other things on my mind too. Like, how to reconnect with someone so far away. Then I remembered the letters ~ handwritten, typewritten, important enough for me to keep in a binder all these years (sixteen of them, in fact). Thanks to the wonders of technology, the letters themselves need never be destroyed for the sake of a little bit of art. I made colored copies. Though I didn't include photos, I remembered I have old photos at my artistic disposal too. Instant ephemera!

The other side.
It's been a long time since I've been excited about working a page; this one sparked me. I didn't plan too much of it. It was important to build this page without words, without any plan or space for writing banal, daily nonsense. No I went to the grocery store musings here. It is perhaps the first time I've ever approached my journal without any thought of writing. I did knit though.

There were memories of words and wishes and connections had. Dreams shared, worries confessed, floor plans sketched ~ the difference in kitchen space an ocean away. And I was taken by all of this. It carried me through to pages I love right now. It is precious, dearest. Like written letters.

P.S. (I changed my mind about posting the blog in Facebook.)

How sewing a page makes a scar in the past . . .

and a scar for the future.

The best beginning of all letters.

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