Tag Archives: tower

Designing vulnerability


a white ‘seam’ couched as an inner wall

As I look at this composition, I begin to think about vulnerability… what is transparency, after all, if not the quality of letting oneself be known? (IRS, take note!)  I have been looking at other works-in-progress back lit in this manner for many months, so it’s not clear why THIS one speaks of transparency and the others did not. Perhaps it is due to vigorous conversations (with Grace and others) about boundaries, about where to draw the line (a red line, perhaps?) to maintain the necessary sanctuary to create, care giving and its demands, and the desire to be seen.

rectangle with 2 folds = house

rectangle with 2 folds = house

scraps from former quilt - many patches are fabric that I bleached in order to whiten

scraps from former quilt – many patches are fabric that I bleached in order to whiten

It began with ‘Ghost House’ leftover scraps, and was a conscious attempt to marry two recently made houses – both of which left me dissatisfied (The Red House quilt and The White House quilt) [links to follow – I don’t have much time this morning]. I laid the scraps on white, continuing the exploration of WHITE for my online class with Jude Hill (Spirit Cloth, side bar).


part of the roof is white, with stitch and couching, only, to define

There is white on the base, too, which I might build up all around – picking up on Jude’s idea of moving from white as a ‘background’ to white as a field of interest, with texture, and something to say besides, ‘look at what is on me’. I actually seamed some white fabrics together, to use as building struts in the frame… only one made it into the house – that long vertical to the right of the blue window (and yes, I know the tower has the appearance of a goofy face, a fact I’m going to correct with another window or two).


hanky scrap from Sandy Meegan pinned, center

The red thread is ‘Meditation Thread’ hand-dyed in India. I like the idea of red, with its vigor and visibility standing in as a symbol of a well-maintained boundary (Imagine that! A sanctuary bounded with quiet intent and silent, purposeful endeavor!! Not angry protestations and complaint). I wonder what each compartment holds.


what if the Nine Patch will only be implied and transient?

I see the nine patch and wonder if I have the energy and wherewithall to enlarge this quilt in order to make the nine patch more than an ephemeral creation of morning sun and muntin shadow. I don’t need to decide to continue.

Many more works on the table, pinned to the wall, up against the western glass doors, and laid out on the dining room table for design-viewing.


same thread around White House, unsuccessful, but a spur to new Tower

Have a great couple of days!

Gathering wool

An effort from last year above the mantle.  A horizon trying to emerge.  Or perhaps, sleeves?  The whole thing wanting to turn into a kimono.

Dreams are on my mind this week.  Well, they’re always on my mind.  But, I mean, particular dreams.  For instance.  Not long ago, I dream that my boss asks me what I want to learn this year, leans forward, eager, to hear me.  I say clearly and resolutely (and unaware of the dissonance):  “I want to learn more about garment construction!” [I work at  a law firm].

I’ve been reading books about psi phenomena — how it has been studied, how it has been rejected by science.  One of the books looks at data collected online in psi tests to see what precognition of 9/11 was evident, if any.  (“Entangled Minds”, Dean Radin)  It got me thinking, so I pulled out a journal from 2001.  This entry of mine was written on 8/28/2001:

K. dreams that water’s flowing on him and freezing him to the ground.  He moans in his sleep.  D. wakes up crying and crying and crying because of leg cramps.  I dream that I’m being held hostage by a terrorist.

A few things about this stand out.  One, it is hard to remember, now, how less frequent our references to terrorists used to be.  And, while my dreams have run toward the violent, normally it is personal violence & not political.  Two, K.’s icy elements notwithstanding, in twenty-three plus years of sharing a bed, I have heard him vocalize during a dream maybe a dozen times.  Three, D. was a restless sleeper, it is true (and at that age, OFTEN in bed with us, as he was that night) — nevertheless, the collective sleep activity in our bed that night can only be considered remarkable.

Waking dreams fill my pages as well.  I often use a Tarot card image, ‘randomly’ selected, as a jumping off point.  On 9/3/2001, I pulled THE TOWER and here is some of what I wrote (we are now eight days from the attacks):

I am the force of change.  Pure, simple, swift, upsetting change.  Change can be good like a blast of fresh, much-needed air, or it can feel disastrous, tragic.  I don’t indicate, in and of myself, what type of change [is] coming.  Jung’s observation – the unworked inner will come and get you from the outer.  Bodies fall – bodies representing forms of all kinds… Burning down the house.  Some houses need burned down – the ash & Phoenix thing, but even before you get there, the laying waste to false, limiting structures, in & of itself, a worthy activity.  This is what happens, oddly, when one embraces the dark side – the brittle masks, the tin houses, collapse, crumble, melt, fall in on themselves….

Clearly, I was looking for a psychological interpretation.

This next dream remnant is less clearly connected to the events of 9/11, but I add it because it seems a part of the mix.  Note – there was only one Egyptian among the hijackers (sometimes cast as the ringleader) and he spent his last night on earth in a non-descript hotel on Route 9, a short walk from my home.

9/9/2001 — Neighbor’s married a 16 year old boy.  He’s handsome and muscular and so young.  Nancy’s trimmed her ancient wisteria to let more light in.  I’ve printed out directions to a place in Egypt that I’m going (it’s out on the Fan Pier?).  At the courthouse, M.F.


You’ll note that the Fan Pier, occupied by the federal courthouse, is directly across the harbor from Logan Airport.  The Egyptian who was to sleep a quarter of a mile away from my house the next night, was surely thinking a great deal about this very vicinity.

“M.F.” is a high school friend of mine who lives near the San Diego airport (in late 2001, there were no direct flights from Boston to San Diego.  The flights that were hijacked out of Boston were bound for San Francisco and L.A.)   One could say that my unconscious could have picked a better dream figure, especially since my brother lives in L.A. — and yet — it is a Californian airport connection.  Isn’t it significant that my mind didn’t pick a local friend, or a friend who’s moved to Texas or Oregon, or a friend who lives near a grocery store or a river?

I’d be interested in hearing if other people who have writings that date back to August – September 2001 can see anything that in hindsight looks like premonition.

Entangled Minds, Dean Radin

Extraordinary Knowing, Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer