In the wee hours of a cold February morning, Martha Simons awoke with
alarm as she realized she would no longer create digital art.
Despair commingled with the disreality of reality TV. Frustration over her country’s violent aggression
commingled with the provocation of her aging
house with its leaking roof resulting in negativity and violence.
Martha felt compelled to knit. She wanted to touch something real - not something conjured through a computer screen.
She picked up a pair of wooden needles whittled from a tree, not a petro-chemical product.
She felt the fibers of sheep and alpaca twine through her fingers occasionally entangled with a twig that had attached
itself to the animal while it wandered in a field somewhere in Iceland. She washed the wool and it smelled like the peacefully musty scent of lambs retreating to the barn from a rainstorm.
Art became a multi sensory experience again as the narratives looped off of the needles. Analogies about trees emerged from the yarn.
Homeless people recounted their stories as she sat by the Mississippi and knitted. Their tales mixed with her dreams and meandered into the fibers.
Can knitting save the world? Probably not, but perhaps this tactile medium can remind us to cherish the meditative passage of time.