Imaginary interest

A follow up piece:

An artist who stops making art is committing emotional suicide. Get off the couch and start making again!

An empty house

"Our love was an empty 

house I tried to furnish.

I got

two of every-   but you

            thing,

never moved in."

Or, 

Our love was an empty house I tried to furnish. I got two of everything, but you never moved in.

You Were My Marathon

I've been running since I was fourteen and joined my high school's track team. 20 years later, running has taken on new meaning for me. I love it. I dream about it. Everything feels heightened when I run  - thoughts, sensations, memories. I especially love a challenge: wind, rain, difficult terrain.

Last spring, I went into a running craze. I was gradually increasing mileage, and my runs were primarily on hilly areas and on broken sidewalks. I had to dodge dogs, bikes, construction, broken glass, ambling pedestrians.

Around the time my runs deepened, I also had to extricate myself from someone I really loved. To this day, I know for certain he does not get how I was feeling. I finally figured this out recently. My devotion to running was somehow tied to my devotion to the idea of him. I know the two were connected.

Now, it's finally cool enough for running to feel right again. My body has healed from a torn muscle, a tiny muscle that connects the pelvis to the thigh, and from some distress to my pelvic bone (if it sounds painful, it was -- I could barely sit for three months).

I have a different perspective on the man I was running to and from as well. 

When I meet other runners who say they've stopped running because of an injury, I tell them I've had injuries, too, and that a break from running is like a breakup from someone you love dearly and are used to being with nearly every day. I finally realize that my relationship with running is a marriage. I plan to be running as long as I can stand and walk. There may be periods that are more intense than others, years when I run farther and faster, in more difficult locales. But I will always run.

You're supposed to...

"help alleviate my chronic pain."

Embroidery on scrap of antique lace. 2009.

2.75" X 3.4".

You're my main meal

"I want you to be my main meal. Not just a side dish. Not even dessert.

Many people dream of getting married. I dream about running. Will you be my one and only pair of sneakers?"

Hand stitched on antique lace (see Antique fabric and what I'm dreaming of post).

Antique fabric and what I'm dreaming of

I love when my artwork helps bring new friends into my life. Paula Overbay, a fellow artist I met at the recent Affordable Art Fair in New York City passed on to me a wonderful piece of antique, Irish fabric. The piece at left is how I am using this delicate lace.

This piece, when finished, will hold a collection of my aphorisms or "post-it notes;" my small-scale comments on fabric. I think of it as a text quilt.

So far, the piece says:

"I'm mourning the relationship we never had, and thinking

of the ways I would have loved you."

"I don't want to be the girl

you call for homework.

I want to be the girl you

go out with Friday night."

Somehow, as a single 34-yr-old woman, dating still reminds me of how I felt in high school.