I love fabric. Yet, I pity it being “in style” one day then deemed “out” the next, to be dumped into our landfills at an approximate rate of 12 million tons per year! So in my own small way, I try to rescue it and give it a new life.
I also pity black & white photographs from bygone eras, winding up in dusty antique malls and flea markets. I rescue them and give them a story to tell, since theirs has sadly been lost.

While beauty can be found everywhere, for me it is in the discarded: the fabric, photo, and broken, rusted piece. And I do believe there is some magic…that spark when colors are combined (that according to color theory, shouldn’t be), when completely different textures dance together with their frayed edges showing (I can relate to frayed edges), and when a completely fabricated story eerily fits a photograph.

So, for me, the sound of tearing fabric is as beautiful as the steady hum of stitching it, into layers of a collage, or storybook…. because aren’t we all layered collages, with stories to tell, hoping to remain appreciated?


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