Patterns

Fuel

This is a pattern. This has happened before. This is a chain of events, a repeat interlocking of weaves that slither back into their norms. Even when untied, the patterns retain memory, like a mattress, resilient, except not. Patterns. They are sewn into the fabric of my habit. Patterns journey into the same continuum of colours, leaps and dips. Just as a curl begins I think it might find itself braiding the opposite way, only to see it's just another bend in the same wave of frequency. Just another dive, the same as the last, before the small high, after the long linear breaks and pauses. Patterns. Like an intricate Persian rug. Deep red threads, in and out, round and round, straight, with edges in the exact same spots.

Flood of Yellow Light

Expansion

Synthetic Enlightenment

Pixel

Can I break this pattern? Instead of riding the needle can I run faster? Can I turn a corner unexpectedly and pull a thread undone? Can the patterns remain the same but can I dye them different? Can I melt, collide or explode into them? Can I twist and turn and fold and press to create something new? Can I loosen the ends, tighten the middle, so that the corners swirl inward or stretch? Can I pick at the overlock, creating a fringe and a fray? Can I bleach it, tuft it, loom its swatches together to make a new patchwork of events?

Solids in the Frame

Essence

Patterns... an incomplete work, on purpose.

Artwork by Faig Ahmed.