This is a painting I keep close to my writing desk. I drew this in art class a few years ago. I am usually a word person so putting the pen and keyboard down to pick up a charcoal pencil and flit about with paints was an exercise of complete panic and sheer joy.
I am exploring the narrative of dresses in this next book I am writing. I grew up in the 1970s as a wild seamstress. Wild in that I sewed late into the night with the wind howling through my lace curtains and the glow from the full moon waltzing about my bedroom. That's what sewing felt like! Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, I fell into the fantasy life of where a couture dress of my own making might take me.
So (sew), I'm painting dresses, letting all of this dress creativity unfold like a bolt of gauze cloth that whirs and gathers in the wind, as summer winds down and dreams of woolen capes are soon to emerge.
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