Framed old photo taken at my father’s 70’s birthday
A portrait of my father in linen and wool.
Soft, muted colors inspired by a vest of his I still wear in the winter.
Browns and purples he loved to wear, green for the forests he liked to walk in. Bits of cognac … you can guess why.
Yellow and white for the warmth and memories he left behind.
Hills for calm and stability, bits of pink for his sense of humor, birds for things that are no more.
Empty warps, torn edges for the empty space and grief that never goes away.
A fringe of 182 warps. 73 pairs each one standing for a year of his life. 18 pairs, not knotted, frayed, one for every year that passed since his death.
No foreground or background, What was once tangible - becomes memories. Intangible words, jokes, his smile - are the only things left.
Tapestry hanging in the living room.
My father’s vest
73 knotted pairs of warp + 18
Green for the forests, browns and purple for the colors he loved, white and yellow for the warmth and memories he left behind
What remains