Languishing is now an intimate experience and written into post-covid vocabulary. In the first year of The Great Pause, I had pieces to be completed, exhibitions to install, zoom to learn and love, and a rest to look forward to.

Except the rest period lasted longer than I expected. True, I was a full-time caregiver during the second year of the pandemic, and moving out of my arson-ravaged studio was a feat accomplished only by many hours sorting and re-distributing. I feel as though I lost the end of the thread where I left off.

There is an ambiguous disappearance between pushing a threaded needle down through the fabric, and when/where it resurfaces. The loop of thread is lost for a moment, invisible until it makes its way to the top again. It must be guided gently to an exact opening between warp and weft threads. That’s where I’ve been this past six months; crossing between the lines of past and future, completing one stitch and finding my way to the next.

I’ve worked on a single piece for these two long years, and it’s within a few stitches of completion. Embossed Message #1, captures mom’s fading memory with stitches and words, and reaffirms my dedication to preserving her stories. Having something to finish is sometimes all I have energy for. This one didn’t get completed for my last exhibition, Visual Translations, and it’s the bridge between that work and the next series using my grandfather’s letters and stories.

While stitching, I listening to Threads of Life, by Clare Hunter. Her stories of embroidered histories and current textile artists makes this work relevant and important. I am so grateful for her words that have motivated me to reconnect with the lost thread and begin again.