Pieces of the Puzzle from the People of the Planet
Quilting by Diane Lovitt
Pieces of the Puzzle
By Paula Chinick
They study our kind
from above, comprehending?
Concord or conflict
By Di Lovitt
Years ago I started collecting fabrics from countries or areas we visited. So I designed the quilt using graph paper, and stitched each one-inch square into a four-inch, twelve piece kaleidoscope block, and embroidered the larger islands. Some fabrics were from Austria, Guatemala, Bulgaria, Thailand, China, Australia, and New Zealand, and some fabrics just reminded me of a region. It was made for memories rather than for accuracy, with mementos attached.
Essay to Pieces of the Puzzle
By Sonia Geasa
Ready for takeoff! Sit back and enjoy the flight. Like a magic carpet, air travel reduces the planet to a realm where anything is possible. After eight or ten hours strapped in a seat designed for a Lilliputian, I emerge in a place where nothing is familiar, yet there is a thread of humanity which makes me feel connected.
I hate to fly, but I love airports, the people, languages, and luggage. As I wait for a flight to Rome, Paris, Budapest, or home to San Francisco, people swarm around me, creating a mosaic of colors and sounds.
My attention is caught by a young woman wearing a bright print African dress. She is talking on her cell phone in a language that I do not recognize. Her voice is first soft and fluid before it changes to a tone that seems anguished. I see her wipe a tear from her eye as she disappears into the crowd.
A turbaned man pulls out his boarding pass and tries to ask for directions from strangers who do not understand.
Two little boys about seven and four years old, dressed in matching Manchester United soccer shirts, try to keep up with their mother. She is engrossed in conversation with someone connected by her Bluetooth device. She does not look back at the boys, still they trail behind her.
Three men in camouflage fatigues list under the weight of their heavy duffle bags. They look so young. I fear that they will lose some of this youth before they pass this way again.
I sit on plane with more than two hundred other people, looking down on a patchwork of farmland and rivers. All of the faces, sounds and stories gently fold into a single quilt, stored in my mind to be taken out and enjoyed another day.