Embroidery
Embroidery is an important part of my life
I learned it with my grandmother and my godmother.
I started by making hand towels and then I quit embroidery in 1998.
Twenty plus years later, I am back to it.
My pieces are now fully covered in colorful threads, beads or ceramic buttons I made.
More importantly, I discovered that my work didn’t have to be limited by what I learned. Expanding was needed.
Piecing together. Piecing Together is the result of several embroideries I made along the years and now, helped me to find myself again. It is a work in progress.
Year in Dover. From the blue sky to the sunset at Channing Pond. From spring to fall. Cold days when the trees are blue. Dover is where I chose to be - the longest.
Northern lights in my backyard. I didn't go to Norway. I just got the text: "look outside". The lights were here. My sister was there. She didn't see. I shared the beauty.
Harmony in pride. There's something magical about colors. There's something magical about people. There's more magic when people find their true colors.
New Orleans. Beads and carnival. Food and music. Peace and chaos. Love and loneliness. They all meet together in New Orleans.
Construction in NY. I looked through the window of my hotel. Glimpses of the sky. Some lights. The sun was setting and colors were red. But in front of me, only steel. Cold. Blue. Dark. The other side of NY.
Barbie doll. Pink was never my color. Dolls were never my toys. But Barbie made me laugh when I needed most. Now, sometimes, I like pink. I still don't like dolls.
Carnival in Rio. From the TV it is always beautiful. So much work. Music, loud, vibrant. Colors. Dancing. And when Wednesday comes, it is like the rain washing the streets and Rio becomes blue and green again.
Chicken Pot Pie. My grandma used to make a delicious one. So much more than chicken. Then I tried the one here. Chicken. Maybe a floating carrot. A nice crust. Suddenly all colors look the same.
Mini, mine and wow. Yes, tiny one. Mine. Didn't want to go beyond that. Wow. Time to stop. Mini, mine, wow!
Holly. I spent the whole year looking to see when the little red fruits would come. Before I knew it was Christmas. Where are the red fruits? All I remember is the olive green. What did I miss? Holly, Molly!
Cherry Pie. What is the fascination we have with pies? Is it because is sweet? Or do you prefer the savory ones? Cherry pie makes no sense to me. I know they are there. Acid, bitterness, sweet. I still need to try a good one.
Paiol. This is where I would spend my weekends. Or the winter break. Or the summer months. The sky. The clouds playing with me. Trees and fruits. Red dirt roads. And I would go fishing. Time would fly. Memories will be forever.
Ups and downs. As simple as that. One day is all beautiful. The other day not so much.
Bubbles. Round. Shinny. Light. Floating. Magical. Ethereal. Bubbles.
Trans-Formation. To the brave. To the one who dares. To the one who can't fit anymore. To those who lost love for loving themselves. To amazing people.
Christmas. We don't need to explain. It comes every year since I remember. Green and red. Gifts. Food. Family. and more food.
Noronha. The water was so clean. The green was silver. The night was clear. There was an explosion far away. Challenging times. Then the water was clean. The green was silver. The night was clear. Peaceful times.
Journey. A 53 inches (1.34m) journey. I was just following the stories and they want to come. Lines interrupted. New directions. Colors that dictated the pace. Some chaos. A long journey. A good journey.