Secret Dreams

Some dreams are hidden, behind a silky bodice.


There is an edge, softened with age.  It's taken to curving in on itself.

Buttoned up.  What would you see, if you loosened those buttons?

Would you see my dreams?  I think so.

 They're right there.  Just look.

This piece is made with repurposed textiles, including a piece from the bodice of a 1940s silky blouse. The portion around the linen central "window" is woven strips of cloth, a technique I fell in love with while participating in Jude Hill's workshop. The  border is made from cloth hand-dyed by Arlee Barr.

This piece of interactive textile art - thank you, Dee Mallon, for giving it that identity - is a diminutive 7.25" wide x 6.5" high.

Added 4/19/2011:
On my Flickr page, Dee Mallon at Cloth Company commented on the new direction taken by this piece. That got me to thinking about which aspect(s) would be perceived as new direction.
  • Stitching on this sort of textile? Well, I did do that ages ago, but then I was distracted by the beauty of the felted wool. And when I say distracted, I mean addicted! But I do enjoy traditional hand sewing and embroidery very much - the action of the needle on thin cloth is so rewarding; with felt it is so much more difficult! 
  • Then there is the cloth weaving. I tried this exact technique with the felted wool about twelve years ago! The process was pleasant enough, but the result was not at all satisfying to me and I quickly dropped it. This, again with the "normal" textiles, is so much more wonderful. And learning from Jude, being encouraged to experiment with this and that technique, has made it extremely interesting to me. I hope to do more cloth weaving, for sure.
  • Finally, there is the pale palette. My pieces are usually so drenched in color ..... yet I often swoon when I see a piece that is all misty shades of fog. So, I decided to somewhat force my wild muse to settle down to this paleness, just for a bit. It was tough going --- she really wanted to add red --- and she got her way, didn't she, in the "dream field."
So, what's next? I have a felted wool project which has been bouncing around in my head for several years! I fear the beauty I am imagining will die, if I don't get working on it really soon. This reminds me of a book, Father Flashes, by Tricia Bauer. At one point in the book, the narrator describes her brother, saying he procrastinates "until possibility fades to loss." Is that not a perfect description of the sad truth? I have to thank Tricia; that one elegant phrase has provided a gentle nudge, much needed, to get to making.