I've been thinking about stories lately.
How the meaningful objects in our lives become imbued with stories, either our own or those of others. An heirloom for example holds the stories of our ancestors, a tool holds the stories of the things that are created with it, a memento carries within it the experience it represents.
It seems that there are many ways to attach a story to a thing; grown over generations of possession (heirlooms), won in a contest of some sort (trophies of conquest or achievement), or built into the creation of the thing itself.
As I craft a thing, weather it be from fabric, food or earth I find myself remembering stories I have lived or read or heard or even watched. When next I revisit that thing I find that for me the stories are still in there, they bubble up again in my mind. It is a little bit magical, informational alchemy.
I think that is why we value and cherish things that are crafted by hand, they carry within them the stories of the ones who made them. Disposable bits of of plastic stamped out by the thousands are quite sterile in comparison (at least to begin with... if they survive they can earn stories too)
I'm not quite sure that the tales we get from an object we behold are quite the same as the ones experienced by the one who made it. I'm not sure that it matters... perhaps not
Today I finished stitching the burnt shibori to the background. The stitches are uneven, they show my hand in the making. I opted to leave some areas unstitched, the connections between the portals are incomplete as in life.
It measures 44" by 16".