My fabric collage veggie tales saga began a while back after I created a 3-foot long subterranean carrot. (See the “Pieces From the Past” page.)
Since that time, however, it’s become increasingly apparent that the carrot is lonely and in need of a vegetable companion. Considering that I’m from the Chicagoland area, what better tall and narrow vegetable would there be to create as a carrot companion than an odiferous onion? After all, the word “Chicago” is rooted in the indigenous Algonquin language and means “wild onion.” Apparently, once upon a time, onions, leeks and ramps were plentiful beside our local rivers and streams. Those were the days, my friend.
This long and narrow fabric collage is comprised of hundreds of raw edge cotton fabric swatches that have been backed with adhesive and then permanently steamed into place on a stretched canvas. The collage is wired and ready to hang. (And, unlike its subject matter, it does not, in fact, smell.)
Size: 12” x 36”
“Valentine” by Carol Ann Duffy
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It’s a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief…”
My fabric collage veggie tales saga began a while back after I created a 3-foot long subterranean carrot. (See the “Pieces From the Past” page.)
Since that time, however, it’s become increasingly apparent that the carrot is lonely and in need of a vegetable companion. Considering that I’m from the Chicagoland area, what better tall and narrow vegetable would there be to create as a carrot companion than an odiferous onion? After all, the word “Chicago” is rooted in the indigenous Algonquin language and means “wild onion.” Apparently, once upon a time, onions, leeks and ramps were plentiful beside our local rivers and streams. Those were the days, my friend.
This long and narrow fabric collage is comprised of hundreds of raw edge cotton fabric swatches that have been backed with adhesive and then permanently steamed into place on a stretched canvas. The collage is wired and ready to hang. (And, unlike its subject matter, it does not, in fact, smell.)
Size: 12” x 36”
“Valentine” by Carol Ann Duffy
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It’s a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief…”
