Have you ever wondered, in the presence of a work of art, whether that single line was placed there for a specific reason, or if it was simply the case to determine its position, color, strength? Does it depend on the media you use? From the artist’s personal predisposition? From the meaning that you want, or do not want, to link to what you create?
I have always envied/admired the artists who succeed in expressing what they feel with large and fast signs and gestures. Who manage not to control what they do, which let the colors and brushes create random weaves, god how liberating it must be !! Stuff like this or this .
These works give us the freedom to see what they want, without forcing them, without suggestions, as in a mirror, without the control mania with which the human race loves to commit suicide, in a multitude of different ways.
Even in the variegated world of embroidery art there are works that inspire a certain feeling of freedom; in this field, however – as in any self-respecting slow art – it is extremely difficult to resist sowing bread, due to the intrinsic slowness of the work, and the consequent space for reflection. Working with music helps, but as far as I am concerned everything that happens while embroidery remains entangled in the threads, and I’m not using a hyperbole, I really mean it.
It often happens to me, for example, and I even wondered if it is some kind of synaesthesia, that after a few days takes up a job again, and just touching the stitch of the embroidery during which I listened to a certain music or I know I received a phone call or someone said something, this something comes back to me suddenly, clear, as if it were happening at that precise moment.
All this to say that I just can’t make things happen. It has always been my biggest gripe, and what has made all my attempts at oil painting fail (and there have been so many) over the years. Perhaps if I had studied at art school and acquired a robust technique, I would have been a hyper-realist, and I probably would have hated every single thing I did.
There are certainly many reasons why I have a visceral need to control my exterior: to live in an orderly environment, to attend consistent people and to obtain precise and punctual information, and to a large extent they draw on the fact that there is a permanent chaos within me. But anyhow, you have to accept yourself, and thank goodness I still have time and a way to work on it.
The embroidery, which I discovered so recently, saved me from this abyss. I never thought it could be so therapeutic for me if I hadn’t accidentally stumbled on Pinterest in the works you see portrayed on this page, and I suddenly felt a strong desire to try to translate, slowly, what I have inside, a thread to the time.
In the months I then realized that there is a parallel world of which I was absolutely not aware, in which the embrroidery art is an art known, loved and cultivated, above all, to what I have understood so far, in the United Kingdom and Japan . And exposed, you wouldn’t believe how much !
How not to run after the umpteenth passion that precedes the times, having its roots in the most ancient past of our foolish species? This art seems to me made for me, and the fact that when I say that embroidery nobody understands what the hell is doing is constantly confirming it to me. Tissues? MUAHAHAHAH 😀