paper, fabric, graphite, thread, 12 x 31 inches.
During the Covid Summer in Massachusetts, my salvation was to hide out in the flower bed, or in the weeds, and draw with graphite on scrap papers. I would disappear into lines and paper and Audible books and lose the house, the children and my mother. (Of course, bless them all).
When I was younger, what I drew, never replicated my vision. I found this very frustrating and decided it was easier to cut out what I needed instead of trying to replicate it myself. Somehow, drawing lines, often without looking, often continually, gives me the feeling that I have captured the essence of these ephemeral creatures.
These fabric flowers were part of a vintage bolt of fabric I got at Portabello Road. Their faded colours seem as though they are going to disintegrate, just like actual flowers are going to disintegrate. The holes between these flowers are the reality of flora in space and the delicacy of their fleeting lives.