11 – Finding my way out
A funhouse is different from the dark ride I mentioned in my last post, – it requires you to walk through various distorted rooms. There was one on the New Jersey beach boardwalk that my brother begged to go into when I was little. He promised to hold my hand so I wouldn’t be scared. We past through the rolling barrel entrance into darkened, distorted rooms. And that’s when he left me (thanks Frederick.) I felt lost and I cried, but then I got the courage to find my way out.
Thinking about a personal experience, even one long ago, connects me to mental images and emotions that I might be able to use. There’s something here about going into a tunnel, getting disorientated/lost then finding my way out that will provide good imagery for this quilt.
Photograph © Andrew Dunn, 26 June 2005.
licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic