The Mender

I love the first painting of a new year.
There’s a freshness to the mind, a sort of reset…
after the corks have been scattered on the creekside,
the resolutions polished, and the countdown celebrated.

I stepped lively into the studio on the first morning of January
and settled into the corner chair with my sketchbook and cup of hot tea
to see in what mood the muses might be.

The first notes I made, I always make, are about focusing and being authentic.
Well, frugality is about as authentic as we get around here these days
and I was drawn to the pile of mending that was collecting
on the old carved chair across the room from me.

Recycling and reclaiming are popular themes in this climate of consuming.
But the art of mending, of threading a needle
and coaxing torn cloth back into functional status…
well that requires some patience and a slower pace to put aside the time
and an appreciation of fine linens.

I have been a weaver, and a maker of baskets,
and used to have quite the respectable calluses from quilting needles,
and I have come to know a little about shadows and light.

What I need to focus on now…
is teasing out intersections between them all.