These are left-over pieces of silk dyed for my last piece. It’s hard to tell from how they are piled up that they are translucent. And in the piece that is slowly formulating, the whole point of it will be the translucency. Light.

I thought I was allowing this piece to organically taking shape. But I now realize that I have set certain criteria for myself: that the fabric I use must be the silk I’ve already prepared; that a certain size opening will recur, and that the piece play with the light on the cloth itself as well as what filters through.

That last piece is the most crucial. I need to make that work. What I want to find is close to what my lauded landscape designer Caruncho describes in this excerpt:

Light, the most sublime and mysterious of all the phenomena found in a garden, will emanate from (the) combination (of mineral, water and vegetable)… All these elements will combine to produce an expanding and contracting movement… It is the expansion and contraction of light in the garden that gives it life.

So, I’m working with, I want to say, mineral. But silk, made from the silk worm, how to classify? Perhaps I’ll stay with mineral. If the piece is hung in a window when done, that brings in the vegetation and possibly the water. So what’s left?

That vibration, that life that light brings.

The “sublime and mysterious”.

Creating a garden. Creating art. What I want: to bring in light.