Tapestry Development Process III

Weaving drawing start

A couple of days latter

Underneath view

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 You can see, or feel, or relate to somehow, some people's insides. And although they keep on saying everything is fine, things are working out, you can't help but noticing it is not. You don't want to pay attention to that whisper, because you truly and forcefully want to believe them.

 It is a different sort of quiet desperation, a resigned one, or perhaps so alien to their strong believe they are in full control over their lives, it's almost as if they were split in the middle.

But what can one do but to offer a warm hand, a hug and prayers? How can one be a good friend?

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Tapestry Development Process II

Applying tension

Tension applied and reapplied

Pedals attached

Reference drawing sewed under warp - sprayed with fixative in order to keep plotter ink from staining the wool (it happened before)

Winding wool

Protective edge and weaving start

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We all long for [Eden], and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most humane, is still soaked with the sense of ‘exile’.

J. R. R. Tolkien

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My  mom on her teens

Anda sempre tão unido 

O meu tormento comigo,
Que eu mesmo sou meu perigo.  

                                                                                                                           Luis de Camões
 

James 1:2 

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds.

The thing is, you have felt God's heavy hand on your face so many times, you went trough such horrors that turned out to make you better, more human, more humble, you start to trust His mercy, even when it's not clear you're acting according to His will, even when it's clear you're not.

Perhaps I should fear Him. I know I should. In fact, I can only fear myself. Day in, day out I have to live with this surprising being that I am, deal with thoughts, hopes, frustrations, physical pains, discomforts, pleasures and numbness, vanity, arrogance, harshness and irritation, sudden mood swings, impulses, regrets, spontaneous and unexpected smiles by a simple thought or sight, nervousness that makes me count all kinds of corners, poles, vehicles tires, windows...

I have to deal with the fact that some days I can walk and some days my legs feel tied to one another. So if I go out, I stumble and am clumsy, the ground does not feel safe. Some days I hardly recognize myself in the mirror, even though I might look better than I thought I was.

There are urges to be alone, to have a nap, urges to cry, to scream, to have a break from your thoughts. Days when the voice is clear, or when it won't come out at all, like someone is strangling you. Urge to be home, urge to be in movement. All so intense I really have to let go of control if I want any social life at all.

If it comes, whatever it comes, deal with it, wherever you are, as calmly as you can.

Crying is easy, you only need a toilet and they are pretty much always at hand. Getting back home is not much of a problem mostly as well.

It only takes courage, lots of courage because you don't usually see people having to deal with themselves in such a way, so you must decide whatever on your own, no use to share such oddities.

And for many moments, you forget that you're alive. You just live and it's all right. You answer e-mails, go through your affairs, eat, play with your dog, work, meet people, talk and talk, laugh yourself to tears, hear music... but that moment comes, when something inside exclaims: Holy Macro! You're alive! What should you do with it?! Is it okay to keep on going like this?! What is expected from you?!

I wake up like that every now and then. Open my eyes and my heart bangs in my ears. It's like having to run from yourself, getting up fast, after a prayer, talking with yourself as loud as emptiness from people around you allow: Shower! Coffee! Cigarette! Work! Courage, my dear, you can do it! It's not a big deal to be alone, you were born that way, you will die that way. The space is huge and you're insignificant in a way, but you're here and it's all right, even though you don't understand at all.

It's only when I start the prayers, only when I reach out for God and my guardian Angel, only then I find energy, strength and courage to go through it all by myself (with Their unconditional company), by my little self, all considered.

Silence is a good method, but it can come out violently.

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My sister just congratulated me for sibling's day. I've never heard before about the existence of such celebration. But here we go, a small homage and blessings.

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A Day for Grand Margarets

"Watch your thoughts for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions for they become... habits. Watch your habits, for they become your character. And watch your character, for it becomes your destiny! What we think we become."

Margaret Thatcher

"It was this happy feminine conspiracy which made Southern society so pleasant. Women knew that a land where men were contented, uncontradicted and safe in possession of unpunctured vanity was likely to be a very pleasant place for women to live. So, from the cradle to the grave, women strove to make men pleased with themselves, and the satisfied men repaid lavishly with gallantry and adoration. In fact, men willingly gave the ladies everything in the world except credit for having intelligence."

Margaret Mitchell - Gone With the Wind

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Tapestry Development Process I

Distribution of threads

 

Before applying tension

Finalizing reference drawing

90x148cm - Plotter Print

You will find more information about the drawing here.





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"For a long time they will keep their heads raised high,
holding the others down with crushing weight,
no matter how these weep or squirm for shame.           72

Two just men there are, but no one listens,
for pride, envy, avarice are the three sparks
that kindle in men`s hearts and set them burning."          75

With this mournful words came to an end.
But I spoke back: "There's more I want to know;
I beg you to provide me with more facts:                      78

Farinata and Tegghiaio, who were so worthy,
Jacopo Rusticucci, Arrigo, Mosca,
and all the rest so bent on doing good,                          81

where are they? Tell me what's become of them;
one great desire tortures me: to know
whether they taste Heaven's sweetness or Hell's gall."   84 

"They lie below with blacker souls," he said,
"by different sins pushed down to different depths;
if you keep going you may see them all."                       87


Canto VI - Inferno






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Zbigniew Preisner - Van den Budenmayer Concerto en Mi Mineur

They were so many, talking simultaneously, non-stop accusations, pointing fingers... 

I shouted "shut up", and woke myself up with my sleeping voice in the darkness.












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Free Market Uzés

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Father's Day

Geneva - 62

70's ?

Natal - 93

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Dreamed of Freud being devoured by hell's spirits after a motivational speech.
(...)
No, it was in the middle of it.







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Listening to a song tweeted by someone in the morning. Arriving at a new town by lunch time, when and where the same song is played at the local church's bells, for the whole downtown to hear it (and it's an oooold song).  Afternoon, walking on the streets, I read the same song's lyrics written on a store's  vitrine. 
Dream about a black panther and go online looking for a picture to blog it. Find some articles about racist black movement with the same name, and it's been many years since last I've thought about them. In the evening watch a movie on TV where the black panthers movement is mentioned as a threat. 





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Dream

Photo from here


A black female panther lying with 3 cubs on my way to the toilet. Cautiously I walked around her and could manage to close the door behind me. 
On my way out, mother panther walks elegantly pass me and I see a chance to pet her cubs: one yellow, one black, one white.






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Mlle Amy Grant

You Take the bus, you get on the train, rent a car, you take an air plane. 
You push your bags around.  Sleep on the train, sleep on hotels, appartments,  you almost don't know when you're awake. 
You talk French, English, Portuguese, risk some Swedish, some Italian. 
You give away information about the subway to women in burqas on Switzerland. You hear a Portuguese explain how rooms are inside the buildings in Portugal. 
You see midle-east war and tragedy on every television, your hear about it in every different language and dialect. 
You want to go home, to feel safe, but you stay.
Because home is not exactly safe and because here is not exactly foreign.






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Dream

The castle was in possession of communists who were letting me know I had to go through "some changes". Every powerful person was communist and I had to scape.
Running to the castle's gate and helped by the servants; one tall black man and a long black haired young woman. I could always count on them, they said, before I jumped to the other side of the gate.







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Château de Chillon - Details

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