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My thoughts on my work have become increasingly focused on the simplicity of materials. I have been dragging around that brown fleece for four years, I finally washed it and am spinning it. November found me plucking cotton. January I collected moss and bare polaroids of lines against the sky. April found me planting cotton and flax. May found me collecting more raw fleeces and a tiny bit of flax to spin. June found me collecting rocks in a North Carolina river and arranging them. Yesterday bits of wool were being needle felted while the cotton and flax bloomed. Is this slow art? Is this minimalism?