I am not always the best judge of colors. My partner sometimes raises her eyebrows and the way that I combine fabric of different hues and values. It has been sitting on my desk for more than a week, as I contemplate their combination in different light. It doesn’t help that the strip of universe fabric, in the middle, is glow in the dark.
In the Yazidi cosmology (for those who can remember up to a year and a half ago, when we were told that the Yazidis were under siege by Al Qaeda in northern Iraq) there is a “peacock angel” whose legs are bound by a serpent eating his own tail.
Scraps of these different fabrics came together on my work table by chance; I hauled out the remainder of each of their mates from my fabric stash. I slice them into strips and I have been experimenting with them in different combinations for a week I haven’t settled on any one particular combination that seems to speak to the Peacock angel, at least not exactly. But there is a voice in the fabric which is trying to make itself heard. I know that when I see the strips arranged in the right order, I will hear that particular song.
