I received another obituary for a friend today. A young, old friend. Someone who left the funniest voicemail to Skittles because they had an idea for a promotional campaign. Someone unafraid to try. Someone who was always a little crooked and struggled with addiction to re-align.
Someone with that certain kind of alluring magic.
Someone we all have one of.
I have been consumed by the loss of 'the individual' lately. Noticing the negative connotations of treating groups, and not the individual persons within them. The long standing systemic repercussions of this type of cataloging.
We vs. I, a balance lost to... what? I guess we each have our reasons.
Does it matter why we lost sight of ourselves and each other? Or just that our individual blinders we are bound by need to be shaken off?
Trainspotting the movement of wealth within the United States in recent years from tobacco, to the 'healthcare' industry, to the Opioid Epidemic.
Odds stacking up and up against the common ones.
Standardizing the individual uniqueness we all have.
Wriggle free with me.
Expect to be seen as you,
Vintage embroidery hoop, thrifted/recycled fabrics, paracord
20" in diameter
Indigo Children is a branded design that you can call your own and customize any way you'd like. I'm elated to be offering these modern works of eco conscious fiber art to you. An original artwork that represents the dawning of a new age in your home as a reminder that:
Change is coming.
It's already begun,
Fan your flame.
I see you.
We see you.
Unearth what is inside you,
Show the world what you can do.
Trust the longing because the only way to pay homage to the ones we've lost is to keep healing. Collectively.
Thank you for reading. Now get out there and jump in a puddle.
'E.M.P. from the mother and son
Tore the digital down
Dawned are the age of the innocent ones
The indigo children
Analog time piece, sky wide
Sync to the ticker inside
Move to the rhythm of the moon and tide
The indigo children
Sirius, Venus and the lunar child
Giggle and the flames grow higher
Dance in a circle around a central fire
The indigo children come.'