In Silence^
Fall 2023 - Spring 2024
15Feb2024 - Los Angeles, California
the conscious . the reality
This work is a tapestry woven from my subconscious, my dreams, my reality. It’s how I make sense of grief. My words meander. Documentation of this work floats - searching for a place to land.
My mother is dying. She has end-stage dementia. Her memories continue to erode. She’s lost her ability to carry out daily activities. She’s eating less and less, drinking less and less. She’s bed bound as I write this passage.
21Sep2023 - Dream / First Day of Autumn
the subconscious . the dream
I entered a large room with high ceiling. Tatiana was organizing an exhibition. Linda, her mom, admired the works being put up. I was in awe of the large mixed media fiber works. The scale was incredible - stitchings from floor to ceiling. It appeared that this was a room to view how the works will look when they are installed.
I subsequently entered the main exhibition space. There, I temporarily set up shop to make work in the space - a mobile studio of sort. While the crew was installing the art, I continued to work on my piece. I thought about my mother’s dimishing health. Using the fibers I’d collected over the years, I began to make these circular stitching marks that radiated otuwards. I told myself that during my mother’s decline, I’ll contine to stitch on in honor of her - in silence.
When the time comes, this work will be placed in her coffin.
- - - - - - - - - -
Woke up around 8am. I had no sense of time when my dream occurred. I searched for a piece of paper to sketch out what I’d made in my dream.
the subconscious . the dream
I entered a large room with high ceiling. Tatiana was organizing an exhibition. Linda, her mom, admired the works being put up. I was in awe of the large mixed media fiber works. The scale was incredible - stitchings from floor to ceiling. It appeared that this was a room to view how the works will look when they are installed.
I subsequently entered the main exhibition space. There, I temporarily set up shop to make work in the space - a mobile studio of sort. While the crew was installing the art, I continued to work on my piece. I thought about my mother’s dimishing health. Using the fibers I’d collected over the years, I began to make these circular stitching marks that radiated otuwards. I told myself that during my mother’s decline, I’ll contine to stitch on in honor of her - in silence.
When the time comes, this work will be placed in her coffin.
- - - - - - - - - -
Woke up around 8am. I had no sense of time when my dream occurred. I searched for a piece of paper to sketch out what I’d made in my dream.
20Dec2023 - Pecos, New Mexico
the conscious . the reality
It’s been a season. Tomorrow is winter solstice. The start of winter.
I’ve been afraid to start the work from my dream. All I’ve been doing is thinking; but most of the time avoiding. I’m afraid of what’s to come. I was sitting on the fence about the scale. Initially from my dream, the work is a 4x8 size to house the circular fiber stitchings.
Over Thanksgiving, I landed on the scale while sitting at our family dining table during my shift in caregiving. Our table is filled with memories of gatherings of countless meals that we’ve shared, countless meals that my mom had prepared. It made total sense to me that I replicate the scale of our 50” round dining table.
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In the conscious, I resolved the scale of the work and also committed to making two identical pieces - a couplet. One will accompany mom on her journey while one I shall keep.
the conscious . the reality
It’s been a season. Tomorrow is winter solstice. The start of winter.
I’ve been afraid to start the work from my dream. All I’ve been doing is thinking; but most of the time avoiding. I’m afraid of what’s to come. I was sitting on the fence about the scale. Initially from my dream, the work is a 4x8 size to house the circular fiber stitchings.
Over Thanksgiving, I landed on the scale while sitting at our family dining table during my shift in caregiving. Our table is filled with memories of gatherings of countless meals that we’ve shared, countless meals that my mom had prepared. It made total sense to me that I replicate the scale of our 50” round dining table.
In the conscious, I resolved the scale of the work and also committed to making two identical pieces - a couplet. One will accompany mom on her journey while one I shall keep.
03Jan2024 - Pecos, New Mexico
the reality
Today my mom transitioned to hospice care. She’s comfortably resting at home but eating less and less. Time is eroding. I finally started the work. I began sewing discarded fabric that I’ve saved from my years of working at a retail shop to prepare the surface for my stitching. It’s a painful start but a necessary one.
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the reality
Today my mom transitioned to hospice care. She’s comfortably resting at home but eating less and less. Time is eroding. I finally started the work. I began sewing discarded fabric that I’ve saved from my years of working at a retail shop to prepare the surface for my stitching. It’s a painful start but a necessary one.
28Jan2024 - Las Vegas, New Mexico
the conscious, the subconscious
Life unfolds in mysterious ways. When I slow down enough, everything opens up. That’s what happened after breakfast with a dear friend. I was telling her about my current project - ‘In Silence’ in front of a restaurant.
Upon describing to her on how I’m making these circular stitchings that will accompany my mom on her journey, my eyes caught a graffiti tag on a light pole that mirrored what I’d just described.
Like the confluence of two rivers, the subconscious and the conscious meet.
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the conscious, the subconscious
Life unfolds in mysterious ways. When I slow down enough, everything opens up. That’s what happened after breakfast with a dear friend. I was telling her about my current project - ‘In Silence’ in front of a restaurant.
Upon describing to her on how I’m making these circular stitchings that will accompany my mom on her journey, my eyes caught a graffiti tag on a light pole that mirrored what I’d just described.
Like the confluence of two rivers, the subconscious and the conscious meet.
