thoughts on art

Worked on this little quilt during the evenings this week--sitting in the dim light while my six-year-old fell asleep, stitching silently and thoughtfully--I think that what I may love the best about hand stitching (and I do love it) is the zen-like thoughtful- ness that I can put into each stitch. More than anything else I do, stitching puts me into that realm where I am both most me, and least full of myself...


If thou coulds't empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then He might find thee on the ocean shelf
And say, "This is not dead,"
And fill thee with Himself, instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou,
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes He says, "This is enow
Unto itself--'twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for Me."

--Sir Thomas Browne

Art does this for me--it takes me out of myself in a way that lets in what is most True and Holy and Creative. I know, when I do my best work, that it is not really my work at all, but simply the Creativity of the Universe coming through. Sounds all high-falutin', I know, but that's the truth of it. My job, as artist, is just get out of the way.