Weaving Color in the Darkness
Creating fiber art that refuses to let the world turn gray.
There are times when the world feels dimmer than it should.
The noise grows louder, the weight of everything happening in the country presses into everyday life, and it begins to feel as though the color has drained out of the landscape around us. Artists feel these shifts deeply. We absorb the atmosphere of the times, whether we intend to or not.
Lately, my life has been moving through one of those darker seasons.
I am starting over in Colorado Springs, rebuilding a life from the ground up in a place where I don’t yet know many people and often feel like I haven’t quite found where I fit. The transition has not been graceful or easy. Some days feel like mourning the life I once had, the rhythm I once knew.
For many years, I was able to work as a full-time artist, shaping my days around fiber, color, and the quiet ritual of the loom. That kind of creative life takes years to build, and stepping away from it, even temporarily, has been one of the hardest adjustments I’ve faced.
Like many people right now, the realities of the world have pushed deeply into the practical parts of life. The turbulence in the country, both internally and beyond our borders, has created pressures that ripple outward into everyday survival. The cost of living rises, uncertainty grows, and the artist’s pocketbook feels every shift.
So for now, I’ve had to step into work again simply to keep my head above water.
It’s not the life I was living before. It’s survival rather than thriving.
But the loom is still here.
Even when the days feel heavy, even when the world feels darker than it should, the threads remain. The fibers still carry their color. The act of weaving still asks the same quiet question it always has: Will you keep going?
And the answer, even now, is yes.
Because I’ve realized something through all of this.
The work may change. The pace may change. Life may rearrange itself in ways we never planned.
But the thread does not break.
So I keep weaving. Not only color, but movement forward.
Weaving color in the darkness. Weaving forward.
I am still incredibly grateful that my work continues to have a home at Eagle Nest Mercantile in Eagle Nest, New Mexico, where my fiber pieces are still able to find their way into the world. Knowing that the work continues to live somewhere beyond my studio keeps that small light burning.
Some seasons of life are about expansion.
Others are about endurance.
Right now, this season is about endurance, patience, and remembering that even the darkest threads can still hold color.
And perhaps that is the quiet truth behind this new chapter of my work:
The darker the world, the brighter the yarn.
So I keep weaving.
Forward.
Thread by thread.
Artist’s Note
This piece is written from a place of honesty.
Life does not always unfold in clean lines or well-planned chapters. Sometimes it unravels unexpectedly, and we find ourselves gathering the threads again in unfamiliar places. This season of my life has been one of those moments. Starting over, learning a new landscape, and finding my footing again has carried both grief and determination.
Art has always been the way I make sense of the world.
Even when I cannot devote every hour to my studio the way I once did, the impulse to create remains; fiber, color, texture, and the quiet rhythm of weaving continue to anchor me through uncertain days. The loom reminds me that progress does not have to be fast to be meaningful. Thread by thread, something whole begins to appear again.
This new chapter of my life, however, has come with real financial hardship. Starting over in a new city without a support network has meant stepping into survival mode in ways I never imagined. For the first time in my life, I find myself navigating poverty and public assistance to stay afloat while I rebuild.
In seasons like this, time and resources for art become harder to protect, even though creativity is the very thing that keeps the spirit steady.
If my work or writing resonates with you, and you feel moved to support this journey, donations toward my creative practice and rebuilding my studio life are deeply appreciated. Every small gesture of support helps create space for the work to continue and for this new life to slowly take shape.
I remain deeply grateful that my work continues to live at Eagle Nest Mercantile in Eagle Nest, New Mexico, where many of my pieces are still available to be experienced and collected. Knowing that the work is still out there in the world, finding its way into homes and hands, gives me a sense of continuity during a time of rebuilding.
If you have followed my work for years, thank you for staying with me through this chapter. And if you are just discovering it now, welcome.
For now, I will keep doing what artists have always done in uncertain times.
I will keep weaving. I will keep creating. And I will keep weaving color in the darkness.
Support the Work — Help Weave Color in the Darkness
Your support helps keep this creative work alive during a time of rebuilding.
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