When I was little and I went to bed before the sun did, I’d lay in my bed and make pictures with my hands. You know when you take both hands and bring the thumbs and index fingers together? You know that space that lives in the middle there between them all? In that space I’d create a whole world of shapes. I’d make all manner of hearts and trees and animals and letters, and my mind would wander aimlessly, and happily, through them all until my eyelids grew droopy and I fell asleep.
For reasons that I don’t really understand, I have very few recollections of when I was a kid. This is a memory that just recently came back to me. And it’s a good one. I think it came back to me because it was an activity that I repeated over and over again. It was imaginative and natural and easy and free and portable and quiet and good, and the results belonged only to me. Plus, it is probably the creative root of everything you see here.
What, you might well wonder, does this have to do with Dresden placemats? Oh nothing. Nothing at all in fact. I’m just so glad the memory is mine again. And I was reminiscing out loud.