I take the same walk along the same streets almost every evening and even though I promise myself that I will vary, I rarely ever do. This is the time when I listen to French radio documentaries and with my mind duly occupied on such things as the events of May 1968 or the science of ignorance (agnotology), my eyes are free to look.
There are weeks when I can't get enough of the shape of trees and the light, weeks when I imagine the stories behind the closed doors of each house and weeks when I hunt for bits of marvels on the ground.
I love the beauty of crushed plastic bottles and dried up frogs. I want to use it all.
Last Monday was a piece of crushed mesh I picked up from the side of the road: metal made to look like knitting - a beauty and the basis of this week's work.
The piece was realized with a mix of silk and cotton thread on light wool. Embroidering the crushed mesh required patience and, surprisingly, a light touch because there was no pattern left in the mesh. Bits of random wire poked out from everywhere. The metal pieces had to be reinforced and tied down in many places. The strongest material is not always the one you'd expect.
I reinforced the piece with a sturdy interfacing and chose to mount it on a coarse piece of recycled woven fabric which I ten mounted on a heavy felt backing.
At some point, wispy, bright little stitches showed up on the top points of the piece and there was one of the old trees from my walk: no more than a stump hanging on to dear life. There was my story. Read it here.