With grannys. Not every granny, just mine, known as Nanny. These days, I'm Nanny, too -- but I digress...
As I sit here and look at my design wall I am struck by the amount of fabric on which I have imprinted her image...and by at least three finished pieces where her once-beautiful face looks out. What am I processing? Why does her image haunt me so?
Interesting that I do not look like her adult self, but there is something in her young face that reminds me of me. If I squint.
before I knew it, even without thinking, I had a piece of cloth that would make Warhol proud. I love its rhythm
and color and order and serenity. But most of all, I love the faces -- 50 years apart. But it sits on my wall and I wait for it to tell me what the next step will be.Or will there be a next step? I could put text on it or leave it alone. I'm afraid to ruin it -- but why should I be? I
can always do it again. Or can I?
Well - here's another version with text. I like that, too.
Here she is again - cut from a different piece of cloth. But I still have 4 or 5 remaining identical images. What shall I do with them?
Enough of this idle chit-chat. If you have any ideas, let me hear from you. In the meantime, I have spent far too long on this page and it is the middle of the night.
If I am to do any work tomorrow, I had better go to bed!