I enjoy blogging and reading others’ entries really keeps me going but sitting down to write this I realise I have less words within me. I have opened this up to write a number of times recently but where there were words there now seems to be a blank.
I thought about this and wondered where the words had gone and now I think I know – they have been replaced by making. The making has become my thinking. It is no longer a linear process of ideas developing into words developing into process, developing into object. Somewhere, the linear has fallen away and the process has become the beginning, the middle and the end, the thinking, the inspiration, the making, all inextricable from one another.
Perhaps I am a mad person. The placing of some fabric scraps has been a turning point. Now I am getting closer. The placing became my thinking, the gentleness with which they inhabited the space stopped me in my tracks and became something much bigger. But it’s all so fragile, one careless move and I will lose my way again.
