Tuesday, October 02, 2007
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My father told me that his grandmother, Minnie, used to make quilts. They were not art, he assured me, just made up of snippets of old clothes , so as not to waste fabric and used to keep warm. He remembers one, he says, all in grays and blacks and plaids. Not art, he says, not meant to be beautiful. Sounds like beauty to me. Maybe even art...
1 comment:
oooh! look at that house! beautiful. :)
i have been thinking about you a lot lately, martha. i've been doing quite a few watercolor paintings in the moleskine you sent me and am looking forward to FINALLY reading out of africa very soon.
actually, i'm adding that book to my list of things that scare me...only because i'm afraid that the book is going to make me want to run off on exotic travels (not that that would be such a horrible thing)! :)
i've been away from your blog for awhile now...but don't think for even a second that it's because i haven't been thinking about you! life just gets away from me sometimes. i hope you understand.
sending you lots of love!
j.
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