Fiber Fables: Drowning

Nothing made any sense underwater. Plants, colors, shapes, and shadows mingled without meaning. Up was a spinning globe and down was a newfangled zoo.

Her arms and legs were telecommuting to another city while someone else twirled the radio dial through dozens of stations sliced thin like pastrami on rye.

One second twisted back and the next one sprang forward. A question mark marks the spot where treasure used to be found. Tumbling vertigo into lassitude into volumes of encyclopedic rage (in alphabetical order).

Hansel and Gretel finally show their faces and lead the way home.

Calligraphy: fly, dream, wish, soar, hope floats

Fiber Fables: Quadratic Formulations

Quadratic Formulations

This is an explanation of how to get “out of the box,” so to speak, if you happen to be confined in a space bound by four walls.

Quad, of course, means four, but your escape will involve a curve with unknown end points. You will know your escape curve is ripe, when it exhibits a firm root system.

First, count the number of windows, doors, and colors in your space. In the absence of humility, generosity, and patience, these will be your known values “a,” “b,” and “c.”

To discriminate among false and real solutions to your dilemma, you may wish to complete the square and/or inspect your factors by surrendering your identity according to the algorithm of Vieta.

As you approach proof of a viable escape, you will note a proliferation of variables, including the alternative derivatives of “x,” the renowned known unknown. Do not be distracted by this or by the parabola of the naked woman jumping off a cliff.

When you master the curve of escape, you will hear a symphonic rendering of complex coefficients accompanied by the dance of imaginary numbers.

Lost Luggage Far From Home

Lost Luggage Far From Home

Lost, but not forgotten.
Lost, but not alone.
Far from home, but not abandoned, not cold, not empty,
Not not.
Lost, but not less.
Luggage full of meaning and feeling.
Luggage of insight;
Luggage of delight.
Loved luggage though unnamed and unclaimed now.
Long loved luggage.
Layered luggage.
Longing luggage, witness to absence
And presence, witness
To love and beloved, witness
To lost love.
Love carried across time and place,
Across lives;
Living love always lost, but never
Far from home.
Luggage of generation
And generations, marked
With lives lived across
Time and place, across
The gap between love and
Suffering, between
Home and far.
Luggage from home.
Lost, but
Not
Forgotten.

Metaphorical Ink Meets "Life in Pieces"

Metaphorical Ink: Results Through Writing
Life in Pieces: Abstract-Bold-Conceptual Fiber Arts Fabricated for Delight

My new business card is printed on both front and back; “both sides of the coin,” so to speak. And I’ve been using my blog, “metaphorical-ink.blogspot.com” as a home for two arenas of reflection and creativity: writing and stitching. The two practices are seamless in my world, though I do float from one to the other irregularly, sometimes focusing more attention on the machine with alphabetic components and other times on the thread-bearing machine. Here is how I think about them.

Not all writing is flush with metaphor, but I wanted to suggest something with the name "Metaphorical Ink." The strategy of metaphor in language forces into conjunction two concepts that diverge in aspects of their meaning. The strategy encourages consideration of ways in which the two might reflect and resemble one another as a means to deepen the meaning of one or both. This juxtaposition of unlike models or notions sharpens the perception of elements and brings a pleasurable surprise into play. The unexpected combination tickles the imagination and possibly lights up a few synapses as well. It can even go so far as to be downright inspiring.

The fiber arts that I practice as “Life in Pieces” are much like the process of metaphor in language. Shapes, patterns, colors, textures, and concepts are the elements or pieces being juxtaposed for novel effect and consideration. When I use the phrase, “Fabricated for Delight,” I do not gesture outward to an observer or client. The delight that results is, quite selfishly, my own.

In writing and in the fiber arts, I reach out for components that will take a place next to other components in a way that I find pleasurable. In neither form do I see an unrelievedly linear progression. In a poem, words may be placed adjacent to one another but they rarely, if ever, lead the mind in a straight line. While it is easiest at my sewing machine to stitch a straight seam, the shapes of fabric bits combined with their colors and trajectories rarely lead my eye in a direction that could be called straightforward. In both arts, it seems to me, the goal is to surprise and delight the mind with unique perspectives that encourage further expansions in sometimes unpredictable directions.

My Fiber Fables combine both writing and stitching. Each piece is more meaningful because of the conjunction. Each of my fiber art forms holds its meaning not merely in shapes and colors and functions, but also in the names and phrases associated with them.