In this work I wanted to abandon the idea of a book being meant to read. When embroidery is added, not only the appearance of the book changes, the purpose changes along with it. The book becomes an interior object, to be looked at, a piece of art. An attempt to open and read this book would damage it. Simple scattered stitches send the scull to the background allowing the sculptural wreath to become a focal point. The leaves, although they remind delicate cast iron vines hugging gates and fences surrounding graveyards, are embroidered one little stitch at a time. A nod to traditional art of hand embroidered bookbindings. The piece is meant to evoke both sadness and curiosity, be somber and joyous at the same time.
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November 2020
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