As you know, I was in York last weekend, meeting my sister. Robin and I arrived very early and went for a wander round the city; it is beautiful as always, and it is a long time since we have been there. We tried, and failed, to find the Quilt Museum, by following the signposts...but clearly went one signpost too far... But we did visit an incredible installation in a deconsecrated church, St Mary's, entitled 'The Memory Of Place', by Keiko Mukiade. It is incredibly beautiful and powerful, and as I went round it, I found myself thinking of my friend Lynn Bunis, who died recently, and of how much she would have liked it. Lynn was very much on my mind that weekend, as my sister was bringing fabric I had taken from her stash down to me.
The centre of the installation is a long pool of water, and, as it says in the artist's statement; 'Hand blown glass bowls and tea lights are prepared. These lighted bowls make a connetion to a loved one's memory. They are released onto the water from the east side of the pool, flowing gently to the west side, suggesting the sense of passage..' So, I lit one for Lynn, and wept a while, and said farewell... but I have been putting away her fabric in my workspace, and know that it isn't really goodbye, more a transition point.
Lynn
Joy bright butterfly
vanished into darkness
shines in our hearts.
Joy bright butterfly
vanished into darkness
shines in our hearts.
10 comments:
Very touching post Marion.
What a beautiful thing to do..very deep and sincere..
How touching, sad and yet, as you say, she lives on in not only your memory but in the pieces you will be creating with her chosen fabric.
how beautiful!
Nothing can kill our memories, Marion, and you have many happy ones. xxx
Very touching post, Marion. I love how you chose to say farewell to Lynn.
Beautiful post Marion and a lovely memory to keep.
Beautifully written; it brought tears to my eyes.
Marion, how absolutely beautiful and concidental that you happened upon that Church. I am sure your friend was smiling from above as your lit the candle in her honor.
How lovely, Marion. I've come to think of "haunting" as a positive, though fleeting, experience: my friends and family are with me so tangibly at some times.
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