I’m touched…
I’m not sure these days where to post…. Most of my thinking and making is going towards the work with Bo so I feel I should be posting on “pix”. But more personal ramblings should probably go here. When I started out with the joint project, the delineation between that work and my own was clear. There was a difference between that and “my own”.
However…..
As time has gone on, as I’ve worked and read and talked and worked some more, it’s all become more blurred. Hence confusion about where to post now. It’s all now “my own” work.
But… This blog is called Threads, and its intention was to draw all the threads of my work together after all.
It’s the talk about touch that has drawn everything closer. I’ve been thinking about the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, and that unfathomable thing that makes it greater… And been thinking about the unfathomable sense of touch…. What is happening between my skin and my brain… I feel a gap… Slippage…
This is where the connections are. I look at my last body of work, all those children’s clothes with hand marks… Touches.
How we use the word touched to mean things other than my hand upon yours, me touching you… it’s more than the physical.
It means emotionally affected…. Or emotionally unstable even…
The stitches that I’m currently unable to use, ironic, coincidental, they have fallen down a gap, have slipped.
They have also become imperceptible, unfathomable, invisible. But they are still in my head. When they come back, which I hope will be soon, I will have a stronger sense of how they fit and what they are for. How I can take the parts and hold them together. Stitches and pixels and parts, strewn around the floor, waiting to be pulled into the whole, so I can find the bit that makes them greater.
I can use them where they touch, to find the part that touches.
My work has always been about touch, even when I didn’t know it. I feel my way through fabric and garments, touching things in my cupboards and on rails, waiting for the spark, an emotional connection initiated by touch. My work touches these things, becomes part of them, all the way through. I like the word interference, but it does seem to have negative connotations that others don’t like.
I think I have to find away to encourage people to touch what I have made…
