Happy weekend, everyone!
Date: March 30, 2013
Location: Apartment, Washington Heights, NYC
Person I would have sent it to: Back to elementary school… Jeremy B.
Music I listened to while sewing: Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George. I specifically needed to hear the version of “Sunday” done at Carnegie Hall back in 1993.
I’ll admit that one of my hopes, at least visually, for this project when it’s reached its completion is that it will appear Pointillistic. That’s one reason why I haven’t dealt with the four triangles that will make up the corners of each block yet; I’m debating if they need to be more “complicated” than four isosceles triangles. I may fragment them (why not throw in an aspect of Cubism too?!) and introduce a third and fourth color in those pieces. I may also throw in some white into those triangles; a theory why Pointillist works appear so vibrant is because there are hints (TINY ones) of the white canvas seen where the “dots” of color don’t overlap.
This work is still in such a stage of infancy, though; who knows how it’ll need to be finished.
I haven’t even talked about HOW I want to quilt them.
Anyway, I’ll be working on A Thousand Quilted Cranes for a few years.
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: If we’re all gifts, why don’t we treat ourselves as such?
When do we lose this belief that inside of us lurks something special that should be shared with the world around us?
Maybe it’s not a question of losing that belief; when do we GAIN that belief? When do we first truly believe the idea that, yes, we have worth?
If the world were perfect, each of us would walk through the world with enough confidence to face the opportunities presented to us. But the world is far from perfect. I’m not perfect. I deal with aspects of myself daily that I’m not happy with.
That I can stare at myself in the mirror and lament that I’ll never have the body of an underwear model mean I’m not all that?
That I am coming to terms with the fact that I am a homebody, and don’t naturally flock to large social situations, mean I’m less than?
That I work in a field that doesn’t compensate me well OR provide stable unemployment mean I’m worth less?
Why do these few examples sometimes eat away at the knowledge that I am a Gift?
Ladies and gentlemen, maybe it’s that we need to spend time critiquing our worth based on inconsistent parts of life.
I may not be an underwear model. But who is? I may not be the center of the party, but several friends value me. I may not be rich, but I know theater and the work I create fulfill me.
Let’s see if we can spin our faults around; negatives only exist to overshadow the positives.
Enjoy the weekend, everyone.