Fibers to Spin – to Felt

The Origin of the Thread
They are there, resting like impatient clouds.
Raw fibers, carded or combed, sometimes soft as a whisper, sometimes wild as the moor.
To be spun on the wheel, on the spindle, or transformed by the warm, damp gestures of felting.
To twist, to unite, to sculpt — or simply to caress with the eyes.
They carry within them the potential of thread, of form, of fabric, of metamorphosis.
Each strand is a beginning, a shiver of matter still free.