House of the rising sun

I stitched this last night. It surprised me. It is a very intimate, and somewhat damaged, piece. Made from an old bedsheet, white rayon satin from a pair of pants I bought in New Orleans that I have no doubt was in a parade or two, and some ancient ribbon I had laying around. French knots make up the little mattresses, which still need a bit of stuffing. It is not finished.

I think French knots are my jam. Thanks to Jude for jump starting this process. Handwork goes at a much different pace and is well suited to the solitude of the next two weeks (my busy town life excepted.)

 

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