Everything we do matters. Everything we say, everything we think, everything we feel, matters. How we express what we love, what makes us sad, what makes us overjoyed with happiness, everything we struggle with that challenges us, matters. Nothing is overlooked in a life-time. Every single detail of every moment we live and every breath we take matters.
Everything that happens to us matters. Every smile we smile matters. Every kind word whispered instead of conflict matters. Every reassuring glance we share and every hand we touch matters. We matter simply because we are here. Because we are here each one of us matters. There is nothing more we need to know - except, we matter.
I have always been one to sweat the small stuff - always. To think, to feel and to improve in every way happens in the details. Paying attention to the details of life makes everything more acute. When I rid my life of negativity and I continue to heal the details of being alive become stronger, brighter, and so do I.
Art and creating have always been packed with layers of details for me. The story of what I am trying to express is in the details of everything I make. Sometimes I wonder why I create at all and then I remind myself that living creatively in everything I do really matters, if only to me.
I don't have to know who or what impact my art will have or whether it has any at all. What I do need to know is that it matters to me. And that is enough for me. That is all it needs to be - enough - to matter to me.
This book took me 9 months to complete. I used it as a healing journey of memories lost and memories found from a childhood not remembered. It was challenging for me but in the end I realized I did have memories that I can still cherish in adulthood. All I had to do was look for them there on the inside. They were there waiting for me. All I had to do was remember.
Left: Sewn self-portrait. The red ribbon is some memory in childhood of winning something but what I don't remember. The strong connection to this fabric as ribbon is the memory.
The red robin is a strong memory of my mother. These two pages represent several layers of memories of who my mother was to me as a child.
I dreamed of a doll house and a doating sister in childhood and in adulthood, but had neither! There's still time for a doll house!