I hung the double wedding ring quilt on the Studio Two wall today. It hangs a little wonky. It makes me think of my family – as most things do this summer.
All the dysfunction in the middle disguised as something that we are not. Look closer and those pieces are not straight, they were not pieced and sewn. They look like they were sloppily (with care – just not with skill) pasted together and then stitched in place, reinforcing bonds that are not quite right to begin with.
The white surrounding the chaotic centre represents loneliness. My loneliness. The complete isolation.
The quilting is another barrier – pushing away from the centre. Stay away from our chaos! Don’t come close, don’t see the details!
The piano keys stand all around the isolated chaos. Watchers? Guards to keep us in? My mother would have us believe that bad things would happen if we got too close to outsiders. Piano keys – like neighbours and teachers and community all standing together, keeping our crazy locked in to the chaos.
What would have happened if one of those people had dared to cross that white expanse of isolation? Would the pieces of crazy have blown apart and taken us all down? But everyone held their position. We all have our rules to follow.
The chaos remains but the bonds have been broken. The pieces of our family have come apart. We each float in isolation. Some of us recognize that we are in isolation. Others do not.
I feel like I have found a way out of that space of rigid expectations. There are four white piano keys, they have silver sparkly snowflakes. I see those as pathways out of the isolation. I took one of those paths and found peace and freedom from the isolation that was enforced at home.
I broke away and now I have a good life. A safe life. A supported life. A healthy life.
No piano in this new life – piano keys figured in that old life. Piano lessons at the convent. I hated the convent, it smelled weird and it scared me. The nuns scared me even more. I went because my friend lived nearby and would come to play. My little community. Even then I craved connection.
Piano at home, me begging my oldest sister to play Baby Elephant Walk. She was a good pianist and she would often give in to my requests. That song being played by her made me feel safe.
Me banging on the lower keys, playing that one song over and over, the deep sounds of those keys, such a dark song. I would move down an octave and then another, till the keys were the deepest darkest sounds. Over and over and over, feeling the growl of those low notes reverberate through my skinny little body, like a brush pushing my pain away from me. Louder and louder I would play until mom would yell at me to stop. And I would sit there motionless until all the sensations of those low growly notes had faded away. And then the isolation came back.
I am not a fan of this quilt.
