In the face of all this noise and pain, sadness and injustice, I was yearning for something intimate and true, something beautiful, spiritual and timeless, something hopeful and healing, something that could fit in the palm of my hand as I sat next to the air purifier. Instead of going big and loud, I have gone very small and quiet.
I decided I needed more rainbows in my life and set about embroidering them onto vintage photographs with silk threads. I chose found, period photos that could convey the transience of life and place, that would transmit an emotional charge of memory. The addition of rainbows symbolized for me not only the idea of hope and inclusion but also of a communion with spirit. Rainbows seem to offer a brief window to the universe and our place in it as they open us up to our sense of awe and wonder. So much of our daily, modern life has become devoid of this connection with nature and to our rainbow selves, our best selves. What if we were to see our true selves as rainbows full of light and color and magic? What if we saw each other and our world this way?
And so I sit with these discarded, dogeared images, ephemeral things caught from the light and shadow of the past and methodically, meditatively and lovingly pierce each with the finest of needles, pulling through the rainbow colored silk, stitch by careful stitch. Needlework that brings to mind my mother and my grandmother and my great-grandmother before her. Each rainbow a reminder, a legacy, in gratitude for the past and a prayer for our future.