Satellites of Sorrow

Holding the Nano-satellite of my sorrow by Iviva Olenick, 2013.

Last month I attended a wonderful evening in Brooklyn hosted by the artist Iviva Olenick combining two forms of art that mean a great deal to me -- embroidery and poetry.

Nano satellite of sorrow, by me, 2013.

Iviva called it an "embroidery slam."

Iviva Olenick, photo by Mrs. Olenick. I have a serious art crush!

As poets read (including my friend Kevin Kinsella) both novice and experienced needle artists stitched up words and fragments and bits of imagery.

We tweeted out pieces, creating a collection of found digital poems.

The larger project is called #BrooklynTweets.

I tweeted out lots of found poem fragments, including some of the language found in these two pieces, one by Iviva and two by me.

My baby is the moonlight, by me, 2013.

I'm so intrigued that Iviva and I sunk our needles into some of the same language and imagery. Especially the line about sorrow.

From http://wereisobesotted.blogspot.com/

Sorrow.

What does sorrow bring to your mind? Loss, sadness, grief. Pain and hopelessness. Despair. Regret.

Sorrow. It was such a huge weight in my life at one time. Overwhelming me. I think that, in many ways, it's something I've spent years moving away from. And yet, no matter how many good things one creates for oneself, sorrows from our past hover around us. Sorrows are our satellites, never escaping the gravitation of our lives, loves and art.

#BrooklynTweets by me, 2013. Oil and acrylic on cotton,
cotton pearl thread.

Whirls.

I don't live in sorrow any more. But I can see the streaks of sorrow, burning across my distant sky as the hurt whirls by, refusing to let go.