Rosemary Burd
3:48 pm #3, 2023
Silk embroidery thread, original photographic print on rag paper 11.5" x 11.5"
Light filters through the forest canopy. A moment expanded: caught in an instant and embellished with hours of stitching.
Rosemary Burd
9:22 am, 2023
Silk embroidery thread on original photograph printed on cotton rag paper 9" x 12"
Image captured on my iPhone using intentional camera movement. Embellished with hours of hand embroidery, each stitch expanding a moment captured in time.
Rosemary Burd
‘There is always light…’, 2022
Mixed repurposed fabrics, mixed threads 18" diameter
My portals are composed of layers of recycled and repurposed fabrics, mostly worn clothing. In this piece, I have reverse appliquéd 20 layers of fabric, cutting open each stitched layer to reveal the layer underneath.
Rosemary Burd
9.04 pm #6, 2023
Silk embroidery thread, photographic print on rag paper 18" x 18" (24" x 24" framed)
Evening sunlight filters through an Arbutus grove. Original photograph embellished with hand stitched silk embroidery thread.
Rosemary Burd
8:03 pm, 2022
Silk embroidery thread, photographic print on rag paper 18" x 18"
Stitch by stitch, I embroider light onto my photographs.
Rosemary Burd
8:35 pm #1, 2022
Silk embroidery thread, photographic print on rag paper 8" x 8"
My series of forest photographs integrates two very different practices: the energetic manipulation of the camera in my jerky iPhone photography, and the calm, repetitive movement of the needle in my meditative hand-stitching. While I have been taking my shaky photographs for over a decade, it is only during the pandemic that I saw the potential for amplifying my photos with hand-stitched striations of light.
Rosemary Burd
8:16 pm, 2022
Silk embroidery thread, photographic print on rag paper 8" x 8"
I look up at the trees, and I am captivated by the interplay of light and colour as sunlight streams between the branches. Nothing stays still. How can I possibly capture the totality of this experience?
Rosemary Burd
Where can we find light in this never-ending shade?, 2021
Sashiko and embroidery threads, found objects, repurposed mixed fabrics, linen, hand-embroidered, reverse appliqué. 40”x12”
February 2020, pre-pandemic. I found a tangled mess of thread, trim, and pipe cleaners in the bottom of an old sewing box, and started stitching them onto a piece of linen. Stitching down this jumbled mass felt like a stab at controlling the chaos of ill health and elder care that swirled through my life. So I kept stitching, not knowing where it might lead. January 2021. I celebrated the hopeful, inspiring words of ‘a skinny black girl’ by stitching a yellow silk circle into the middle of a black linen square - finding my own light ‘In this never-ending shade’. And I kept stitching. May 2021. Mary Oliver: “The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave it neither power nor time.” And so I stitched some more. I stitched through illness and death, pandemic and pandemonium. I stitched listening to poetry and podcasts. And as I stitched, I felt something rise within me.
Rosemary Burd
Where can we find light in this never-ending shade? Detail 3, 2021
Sashiko and embroidery threads, found objects, repurposed mixed fabrics, linen, hand-embroidered. 40”x12”
Detail, bottom.
