My studio is a hive of fabric and images. There are usually 3-4 pieces in process on the walls or tables, notes to myself stuck on various surfaces and a 12 foot bulletin board with paper flotsam pinned in layers. But more than that, I have collections of debris everywhere.

I have become a magpie, collecting shiny objects for the pile.

At the end of each project I wrap the trimmings into these textural balls as reminders of the raw and unfinished.

I collect rocks with holes in them for their animated messages.

I wrap tubes with strips of fabric. I don’t know why.

I save thread ends, tie them together and wrap them onto spools or stuff them into holding cells.

I save all found rust. Especially the curly ones.

The bulletin board has 10 years of layers on it. I may have to edit soon.

Scraps from cut up quilts are great raw material for new work.

The fabric rainbow gives me great joy every time I see it.

The mask table is getting full. I may have to figure out some other way of keeping these soon.

I won’t go into the insect exoskeletons, broken shells, animal bones and feathery bits that turn up in my drawers. I think this habit of collecting drives my creativity. The rich raw materials that surround me take me beyond the mundane.

What do you collect? Tell me about it.

Pandemic, murder, demonstrations, voter supression, police brutality and…coming around the bend….climate change. The stress load is heavier and heavier. I’m not sure I can even line up two or three sentences that parse how I am feeling. I’m speechless.

I can only show you what I am working on. This piece is called Silos. Silos as in we are all separating into our own narratives. Silos like how we store up for the future. Silos like when there is a surplus. Silos as in dysfunctional business environments. Silos like media streams that only speak to the loyal. Silos as in isolation.

It started with masks.