Stitches are like plants: they grow organically if you let them, springing forth from the fertile ground of furrowed fabric. Texture upon texture, like blades of grass and stems of weeds, clashing and clustering, bending, weaving and tangling, the threads begin to create their own landscape. A wayside border of adornment that casts its own shadows and fragments of light. Holding its own mysteries until you can slip into the luscious labrynth, to reach the secret den of delight within.
The image shows a recent sample of velvet and linen mix fabric painted with acrylic ink and then stitched and then painted again to get more tones and shadows. I like the way the ink bleeds into the threads sometimes only partially. And because the threads are coloured, there is a mix of new colours when inks are added on top. Interesting.
