Th re—ea-d

Searching in the trees for lost feathers living in hidden dimensions, I find myself painting a polychromatic Th re—ea-d that weaves this watercolor with incantations into the paper cutouts.

Here a mystical bird is flying backward into hidden dimensions, recalling the importance of knowing one’s past.   Our ancestors' traditions kept communities strong. It seems the elders lived closer to nature. 

When experiencing the thread of a crow’s call, dimensions are crossed, dropping seeds into the present.  Seed capsules are keepers of time.  Seeds know when to jump dimensions. Some can wait thousands of years or travel in an urgent manner to the present. 

Seeds represent reciprocity, and I honor our ancestors and their old ways, which always gave back. Equality is assured when there is reciprocity.  To receive something and offer it back, to each other and to nature.

A very old Polish woman, handing out (vodka) shots to my sister and me at her kitchen table in her son’s Chicago home, where she lived in the attic (I was barely 4 years old - and YES! I took the shot in hand only to be stopped by my sister).  She wanted to honor meeting us for the first time, (her son’s adopted Granddaughters) as this is her way of creating community.  The Chicago Polish migrated far from home, dreaming of another possibility.  As a community in Chicago, they dropped seeds collectively while remembering the old country, sending money and goods back home when they could.

Hidden away in this piece are incantations to remember the bonds of our ancestors and how they worked together - to liberate together.

Inside I have created gaps, where incantations of thanks to my ancestors and to all those before me, are sewn into the work, written on paper, hidden in place. The hidden incantations are part of my weaving vortex, spinning a poem spell of thanks with visions of liberating all as one community, all people as one giving back to each other and to nature.

Th re—ea-d is weaved aware of the connections between all people, and our interdependence on nature.  The weaving also imitates making nests, as our women of the past did the weaving; my sisters and so many Mothers and Aunts before me weaved, embroidered, knitted, and constructed clothing works of love. As the birds weave their nest, bird chattering hovers between worlds.

Mystical archetypes shimmering with hope. Ancestral spirit dimensions outside perception embroidered in kaleidoscope brilliance. Birds and people of different colors are all one weave.