Sunday, December 1, 2013
i take myself on little journeys while i work. i wander through the interiors of my childhood. my youth. my life. i have many hours to myself each day as i work. and i string memories and images of my life into those hours. the quilts i make build on the translucent memory that breezes through my mind. they are steeped in nostalgia. i walk through the interiors that i've inhabited over the course of my life. it may be that i have never forgotten a room i've been in. i remember the boxy little walk-up apartment my parents lived in when i was born. we moved from philadelphia when i was 3 1/2 but i have memories of houses of my parent's friends, shops my mother frequented, the church we attended. i remember the layout of the apartment and the hallways and stairs leading to the apartment and the apartment of the neighbors across the hall. those are the earliest, foggiest memories. the late 60s. i don't remember the people or even the details of the decor. it's the floorplans that i love. the movement. i can move through houses, following the hallways, walking through doorways, feeling the light coming from windows. sometimes it's a hotel room i remember. holiday trips visiting relatives and friends. the people fade but i remember walking in the front door or into the kitchen. the portals, the embrace of the rooms and being pulled through hallways. these are the memory images that my mind constantly scans.