Departures and Returns

This is my aunt Sandra. She is holding one of her weavings which reads:

Sandra’s studio is a sun drenched white room. Inside is her loom, stacked fabrics, shelves filled with labeled storage boxes, and her journals, so many of them. This room is a work of art in itself. The order, the colours, the peg board pinned with cards and inspiration. The weaving that lies within the loom looks like a beautiful plate of food, half eaten, left momentarily because the phone is ringing. But plates of food will eventually disappear; weavings grow and remain.

My studio is the kitchen. It’s where I go to collect my thoughts. To hide from the chaos outside. To create. Eventually what is made will be eaten, broken down, wrapped and reheated.

Sandra’s work includes found objects. Ropes, fabrics and other treasures washed up on the shore. She finds beauty in what is discarded. Sometimes this happens in the kitchen. I have a bag of quince from my friend and neighbour Genevieve. She picked the fruit from her tree in the backyard. Last year the fruit fell to the ground. Today, in my kitchen, it’s becoming jelly. Soft, pink jelly.