imperfections

while playing around with ideas to help this rusty sun's whispers to take form, i came across this old batik that i did while teaching at a local fabric shop. it was buried deep in my great, great uncle's steam trunk. forgotten for its perceived imperfections. colors that bled when washed. attributes which conscribed it to the depth of this oubliette. but now, under the oxidized rays of this primordial sun, the imperfections transmute. become strengths. time now to begin tearing. stitching. digging for more fragments. but, most of all, to listen intently for the whispers and the story hiding therein...

this appears to be my current preoccupation, so expect updates and new pictures in the next couple of days.

namaste'