I take one step forward and fall back into a trap, getting bitten by a snake. The stitches I am forced to unravel comfort me as I unlearn my distortions from adulthood. I’m knitting the main road right now, but might drift off to explore. I don’t know how to build ladders, I just focus on the path. I talk to the little girl in the mirror, our favorite color is lilac. I knit her a lilac road, and remind her that if anyone kicks her to take it as an incentive to jump for her dreams. I didn't end up needing any ladders, and I scared all the snakes away. It’s a game after all.

Snakes and Ladders

Forgiving myself for failing at trying to do and be everything I ever wanted in one day.

Trying not to waste time.

Being looked at from an idealized critical lense, not given the chance to be seen as a whole.

Not remembering

Forcing yourself to remember

You can never let yourself forget

When you were not invited

Not Invited

Whether this entails spiraling backwards or evolving inwards, I am stuck seeking my former childhood wisdom. I talk to her (my childhood self), knitting ceaseless twisty roads and mazes with cryptic ends. Somehow, she does not think I am destined for failure, though the adult schema persists. We work through the puzzles together. I tell myself I am doing a good job, because that’s something she would want to hear. As I found myself dwindling, I drew her a picture of my story-, just like when she used to draw to explain hers. I find a way to evolve.

Spiraling, Evolving

Walking down West Street, the street I would drive home on three years ago, I encountered my former self. I’m relieved that between then and now, we were able to be friends. I catch myself saying our inside jokes aloud, and sometimes even think about you amidst my tears. My mind zig zags and spirals. I shape the path I see. I had to become my own constant. My hands instinctively reach for the bright red yarn, knitting a familiar red circle that resurfaces in my work like a full moon. It feels like I am knitting an old piece of me that just spoke to you. Just know that even though I never reach out, I come close.

Almost, But Never

This knitted painting was created by hand using a manually operated domestic knitting machine. It's composition is initially conceptualized through sketching, followed by drafting a knitting pattern. Then, hours are spent composing the textile row by row to encapsulate the vision.

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Marta Nowak