Tuesday, June 8, 2010


As a child, I had always loved to create with my hands. Scrap paper and colorful magazine pages were turned into collages, bits of cloth were fashioned into trinkets, a couple of stray buttons became a pair of earrings. In time, I taught myself how to make soap from scratch and spent many hours mixing and curing the silky, fragrant bars. Later on, I learned how to draw with soft pastels and filled sketchbooks with all sorts of drawings.

Working with my hands and creating something out of the mundane and otherwise forgotten scraps of life transports me to another world where there is no hurry, no deadline, no evaluation report. A world where breathing becomes easier and more natural, where time stops and there is only me and my hands weaving, sewing, beading, drawing - making manifest the visuals in my head and in my heart, visuals that my world in the daytime could never understand.

Sitting down to make something is my own little room where I can lock the door behind me and just BE. It is, in a way, an escape, but it is also an adventure and a journey of discovery, of diving deep into who I am and what I am becoming.

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