Music and poetry hold my fancy just now, and I want to make them visual. I hope to take poems and pull their images into quilts. But the words must be there. I’ve thought about letting the images stand alone, but how can I abandon the words, which made the images visible? I will have — must have — both for my piece. And so I will.

My next effort will be Blake’s The Sick Rose:

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm.
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Can you see the windswept night sky, the blood red of the rose pooling? It will be a quilt of deep blues, reds and purples. It will be a quilt of innocence and knowledge — an Eden story. And Blake’s words will mourn the loss of innocence in the midst of the red and dark cloth.

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