An entry hole and an exit hole.  Wounded fabric.  A bleeding path of trailing thread, torn, or lost along the way.  Hole after hole.  The needle rises and falls, at times brushing close to the face, at times far from it. Sometimes it vanishes behind a screen, and you can only guess from where it will return. A practiced hand finds, through the fabric’s dense weave, the next stopping point. The other hand, less skilled, is startled by the sharp flicker of pain.   Stitch upon s

Art connectors, adhesives, and accumulations as a prism of the soul in times of trauma. Joiners, Dividers, and Measuring Tools are a...

In March 2025, I took part in a supervision group for therapists. We were invited to create a container, a three-dimensional structure...

My job at Grandma Onyo’s home in Petach Tikva was to open the door to the customers who brought items for “artistic repair.” Grandma sat...