The idea for THE WARP & WEFT was born in September 2020. It’s a multilingual archive of stories that hopes to capture the zeitgeist of that year. Learn more about the vision for this project by visiting ABOUT > THE WARP & WEFT STORY. This is an organic, ongoing project, where responses to the archive can renew and expand it. Please have a listen.
I have often wondered why traveling down an open road provides me with a certain freedom and healing seldom felt elsewhere. Though we may travel down the same highways, and drive past the same mile markers, the aging structures and familiar visited rest stops, each of us imprints our own impressions of a world based on our own experiences, leaving footprints of our own story in the landscape.
I was driving today listening to a random playlist when a song from ‘Les miserables’ began to play. I found myself overcome with emotion. While music often impacts me, it wasn’t that. See, when I was 20, my mom took me to see that live, in person, in a theater.
Over the last few months, I have allowed myself to pause a little and introspect, to understand my own mind. I guess the pandemic and a few major changes in my relationships have forced me to do so.
I remember growing up as a young girl in the 90s obsessed with Disney princesses and the classic damsel in distress mentality. I would swoon over the dashing princes and men who would save the day, and of course my life wouldn’t be complete without the color pink!
A lifetime given to art has revealed my disregard for accepted techniques, themes, and standards. I use paint and clay and song to explore the mysteries behind apparent reality. Dream, alienation, and tragedy are mined as source material and if there is a funny side, so much the better.
Fall colors collapse
on my peeling deck
tired leaves on stage
with makeup
mimic my struggles
We bond in community by place and age, by race, size, education, skills, then into self-selected groups by passions. Fish and Gun Clubbers. Skydivers. When I’m lucky, I meet someone whose base group has burst into glittery bits of divine attention. Extreme pleasures. Beautiful time-benders. Finding secret selves is my life’s joy.
I live in a small city in the midwest of Ireland, Limerick, it wouldn’t be a city in many countries but it is here, in this small one, and it is my home.
This painting is a response to andrea a. gluckman’s poem ‘wadi.’ It shows a ruptured, wounded valley, a palimpsest of barbed wires. It also shows an open window with blue sky, which is nothing but an illusion of freedom, inside a prison with no exit.
J’ai plusieurs animaux ; des chiens, des chats… Mais Babou est un chien exceptionnel ! C’est un vieux chien et j’appréhende vraiment l’heure de son départ parce qu’elle a une empathie au-dessus de la normale, tant pour les chiens, les humains, mais aussi les animaux des autres espèces.
[Babou by Sabine Lebrun: I have several animals, dogs and cats, but Babou is an exceptional dog! She is an old dog and I truly dread the time of her departure, because she has incredible empathy for dogs, humans, and also members of other species.]
Although I’ve always revolted against linearity, I think I began to engage seriously with the concept of time during the fall of 2019, when I introduced my students to Afrofuturisms.
I went in for a routine ultrasound in March, a couple of weeks before the baby was expected. Covid panic was just setting in, in Austin, and toilet paper was disappearing off the shelves. The doctor chatted with us about which grocery stores were better stocked and soon we were good to leave.
