Discarded things were her materials and she gathered them to herself over years. She spent time looking before she began anything that looked like art, but looking was her primary work. Whatever art she made, and she made a lot, came from this devotion. She wondered over these broken-down objects, the ways they had served, the hands that had handled them across time. It takes a special kind of eye to see their beauty. Hers came from the choice she made, to love them. Because of this, she never thought of fixing or repair. She only wanted to handle them endlessly, to celebrate what they had become, to carry them into their next becoming.
She sounds like a deep caring person.
I am always looking for reminders back to her.
: )
I can understand that
I need to be more like her.
Me too, friend : )