I didn’t decide to be a primitive artist. I just evolved that way. I am attracted to the asymmetrical, imperfect stitches and raw edges. Blurred borders and trailing threads don’t bother me. Quirky faces and messy hair lend character. Putting together found objects in odd ways pleases me. Not everyone understands it.
It is like the new hearts that have found their way into the product line for 2018. Last year my hearts were nicely shaped, stuffed and fit comfortably into the palm of the hand. They had words pertaining to love written on them. I liked them and they sold well but seemed a bit uninspired. This year the outline of the heart that came to me was way less than perfect. The rounded tops are not matched. My scissors lopped off the bottom. A piece of vintage fabric splits each heart like a healed scar. I apply them to tea dyed muslin with hand stitching and don’t worry about the length or spacing of the stitches. And I’m sewing them together on the wrong side and leaving them that way. My apologies to my Home Ec teacher!
I feel much closer to these hearts. I feel like I’ve made something much more like myself. By the time we are entering old age the heart is no longer perfect. It’s been battered around by life. Been squished out of shape a bit. Carries scars. Maybe had a part or two lopped off. But it can still be recognized for what it is. And I, for one, find it more beautiful in this condition.
So as I put these hearts out for sale, they are a gift for the buyers. Some will think they are pretty. Some will think they are unusual. And some will understand that they come from my imperfect heart.
It is like the new hearts that have found their way into the product line for 2018. Last year my hearts were nicely shaped, stuffed and fit comfortably into the palm of the hand. They had words pertaining to love written on them. I liked them and they sold well but seemed a bit uninspired. This year the outline of the heart that came to me was way less than perfect. The rounded tops are not matched. My scissors lopped off the bottom. A piece of vintage fabric splits each heart like a healed scar. I apply them to tea dyed muslin with hand stitching and don’t worry about the length or spacing of the stitches. And I’m sewing them together on the wrong side and leaving them that way. My apologies to my Home Ec teacher!
I feel much closer to these hearts. I feel like I’ve made something much more like myself. By the time we are entering old age the heart is no longer perfect. It’s been battered around by life. Been squished out of shape a bit. Carries scars. Maybe had a part or two lopped off. But it can still be recognized for what it is. And I, for one, find it more beautiful in this condition.
So as I put these hearts out for sale, they are a gift for the buyers. Some will think they are pretty. Some will think they are unusual. And some will understand that they come from my imperfect heart.
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