We are each the fine end point
of not just one but many lines,
not just two, but four, eight,
sixteen, thirty-two ply and more…
From above, roads are stark straight lines. Land undulates but the roads cut clear across, slicing open hills and paving across water. What the land does is irrelevant to the road.
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Every creative work holds up the turned-inside-out heart of its maker for all to see.
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When I stitch, I know what I am doing. I know where the lines are going. There is a map, and I’m following it.
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These are temporary lines I’m putting down. This map is a slow motion snapshot…
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