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I am interested in considering how we reveal ourselves as we journey through life. We are linked to our past and our future generations. Sometimes by the finest of silver threads. During our short lives we selectively remember our memories. We negotiate the physical world around us by the accurate recollection of life experience. Fire burns, knives cut, and good food smells good to eat. Occasionally memories surface which don’t sit comfortably. Do we acknowledge those memories or eject them into the black hole of unwanted thoughts? |
It is a battle to confront ‘mutant’ memories, and acknowledge that there are many life experiences we would prefer to banish into the ether. But unwelcome memories are often a form of warning. Pay heed, and eventually even unpleasant memories are woven into the embroidered garment of life. It is in the quiet spaces of time that we can allow our mind to settle and create a two way flow between conscious and unconscious memories. For me, poetic spaces are most likely to occur when I am sewing or making things, or having a long and relaxing bath. As we live we die. And with us, our memories. As my mother fades into the haze of Alzheimer’s Disease, I am wanting to crystalise my memories of our early family life. She is my link with the past. She inhabits my memories and the space between my memories. Her ending is the beginning of a new form of embroidery on my garment - the stitches will be less assured, but more resolute. |
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