marty ornish
The process of the transmutation of tattered, threadbare, vintage textiles into art, often gifted to me as discarded heirlooms, is both meditative and healing. Beginning with the deconstruction of once loved (but castoff) deteriorating vintage quilts, lace and linens as my palette, I enter a flow state -- never knowing where my intuitions will guide me, or what the end result will be. A temporal tension connects me multi-generationally to my maternal ancestors, yet, paradoxically mandates that I remain present in the moment.
Like the veins of a leaf, my artistic paths are forever bifurcating. Last year, my political rage and restless energy over the national and international disempowerment and oppression of women were redirected into a recent series of pieces. More recently, I have been exploring realms of abstract uncertainty -- emotionally embellished artwork with layers of security, warmth, and comfort -- a totemic warding off of my increasing awareness of my mortality and the fragility of life: not unlike the textiles I resurrect into objects of beauty and emotional power.
