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ma·trix
/ˈmātriks/
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noun
- 1.an environment or material in which something develops; a surrounding medium or structure."free choices become the matrix of human life"
- 2.a mass of fine-grained rock in which gems, crystals, or fossils are embedded."nodules of secondary limestone set in a matrix of porous dolomite"
The concept of textiles as a matrix was new to me before I read Elaine Igoe's book Textile Design Theory in the Making, but when I was introduced to the concept it made perfect sense.
The threads come together to make cloth. Every individual thread has a role to play, and each one can affect how the cloth - the matrix - behaves.
As I considered writing the essays, I thought about my story telling, the craft itself, the processes, the materials, and wondered how I could weave them all together. (You saw what I did there, right????)
As I thought, pondered, considered, examined each one individually and how they might be brought together in words, in texts, they swirled around and around, bumping against each other, nudging one this way, another that way.
I groped for a title for the collection, gradually creeping closer and closer to the concept I wanted to convey, all tied up in the title. Because the title can set the tone. Provide focus. Illuminate the way forward.
The word 'matrix' floated by at some point and I grabbed onto it, although what I chose didn't quite fit. It felt awkward, not conveying what I wanted to do, entirely. So I let it sit for a bit, knowing that the word 'matrix' would be an important part of the title, but not sure just how.
A couple of days ago, I was half asleep, in that liminal space between sleep and waking, dreaming and thinking and 'Stories From the Matrix' suddenly popped into my conscious mind.
And I knew I had it.
Once I had it, the rest began to fall into place. I re-wrote my introduction - that first groping attempt at trying to get my focus right, and failing utterly. But it did the job of opening the door, breaching the dam. But I knew in my heart it wasn't right. It wasn't the right tone. It wouldn't attract the readers I wanted to speak to. Getting the title 'right' meant I could scrap that introduction (and perhaps the first two essays - TBD) and begin again. This time with a much clearer vision.
My goal is 5 essays a week. This morning I wrote another one. The output seems puny in the face of what a 'book' would look like. But a collection of essays is far less demanding (to me) than a 'book'. I've done 'books'. They were hard.
But a collection of 'essays'? A collection of 'stories'? Much less daunting.
All I need to do is get the words out of my head and into 'print'. Once I've done that, editing will be required, even if it is 'just' to find typos or minor grammar issues.
But I feel like I have fallen into 'my' place. As story teller. Stories of how textiles come to be. Stories of and from the matrix. An environment where those stories can form its own matrix?
Whatever results, I will produce something. It will be up to others if that something is worth their while.
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