Even though I can hardly mend a sock, I love textiles and know so many gifted quilters and weavers and knitters. When looking through art history, I admire in the older quilts a certain palette that speaks to me of comfort in nature.
On a trip to New York once, I visited the American Folk Art Museum. Their textile collection is stellar. Quilts bear out stories thread by thread, generation to generation, bird by bird. Here's an image from a quilt made between 1858-1863, by an unidentified artist who lived in the vicinity of Albany, New York. This quilt is entitled "Bird of Paradise", for the flamboyantly feathered guy in the center of the piece. My eyes are drawn to the more pedestrian black birds tending to their nest.
I reached into my archive and also share my world's version of the same muse. Bird number Ten.
2 comments:
Love those blackbirds, yours have red wings, unlike ours! I like the posture and the rushes!
Thanks Julie! Our blackbirds are also quite sassy, in keeping with that surprise red marking.
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