Presence of Possibility

I have a large glass jar of embroidery thread on my coffee table, the size of a small bucket and filled to the brim. The glass is mostly frosted, except for a clear inch at the bottom. I find all glass beautiful, even shards of broken windshield scattered on cement.

A few weeks ago, while cleaning my kitchen I found the jar at the very back of a shelf. I had intended to store flour or beans, but it was too big, and I had forgotten about it. I washed the container, and carelessly left it on the coffee table. Perhaps I left it there for it to tell me what it wanted to hold. I only knew it should be something colorful.

I hoard materials like every artist and crafter I know. I store supplies in nooks throughout my small home: collage materials like saved plastic netting from avocados and garlic, an old dictionary with a broken spine, and a tea tin of cancelled stamps.  Open a drawer and find sock yarn or scratched notes for a poem.

A few days later I remembered I had stashed embroidery thread in one of the yarn bins. In every color, imaginable: Persimmon, mint, aubergine; Cornflower, kelly, fuchsia. I opened the lid and dropped in the entire stash. Every skein, a perfect fit. Although I do embroider, for the past year I’ve been stitching words with sewing thread. Mostly quotes by Audre Lorde and lines of poetry. I barely use embroidery thread, but I have fantasies that I will embroider a tablecloth like mami and Tante Annelies stitched. Except I don’t have a dining room table anymore. I pandemic transformed the table to a desk and art making space.

Honestly, I just like looking at this jar of possibilities. I love raw materials. Pens in a cup. A new notebook. A skein of red yarn. A bag of flour. Roget’s Thesaurus.  On my walks, I notice leaves and flowers that could become a collage or pressed between pages of books written by my friends Imani, Jane, Sehba, or Sam.  

Someday this thread will become something else by me or someone else. And, eventually, the thread will disintegrate whether used or not. That is the thing about materials, they carry a multitude of possibilities, just like the beginning of this year.

What have you forgotten at the back of a shelf?

A gorgeous hand-stitched gift from my dear friend Karen Satzman. Check out those beautiful even stitches! I will treasure this kitchen towel forever.