Returning from afar

Oh my cocoons, it has been a long time since we talked.

I both missed these creations, these creatures... and didn’t miss them at all at the same time...

This September I picked up my beads and needle again. A trade with a brilliant artist, I finally was (gently) pushed to finish a cocoon that had been languishing away, three-quarters finished, waiting to find her home.  I was glad to finish the stitching I had started. I thought I would turn back to wool and beads.

Then I didn’t.

Was I finished with these sculptures?

                I didn’t want to admit it, even if it wasn’t true.

I realized lately, as the unadorned cocoons hanging in my studio began to whisper to me, that I had been avoiding them because of grief that was inadvertently attached to them. They carry emotion so well, these beauties.

The weekend before my beloved Kelly Call suddenly died, I came back full to the brim and eager to create after taking a brilliant workshop on wet felting sculptural forms. To say the wind was knocked out of my sails begins to scratch the surface. A too-short 6 months later, Kelly {Umberdove} Clark died. The progress I had made walking back to felted stitches was lost.

These blows of loss did more to my creative freewheeling than I knew. I buried it in sewing dresses and weaving. Practical beauty, repetitive in their rhythms, comforting and safe. Painting with watercolors was the closest I got to the deep-down parts I used to be in frequent touch with, via my cocooning meditations.


The truth was found.

Now what?

New cocoons, that’s what. Two forms that have been waiting patiently for their adornments. A large, opalescent cocoon, cavernous. A small, comforting dusky indigo.

This is how I restart this journey.

 We’ve rested long enough.

Come with me, won’t you?