Dyeing fabric makes me happy. I miss the times when I can’t make art, like people miss touch or the sound of a loved one’s voice.

My art is as much happenstance as craft, as much accident as design.

Standing outside in my back yard, with the sun’s light and heat making the dyes work, I see what there is to make art with today. I love the non-thought behind the work, the release of my mind, losing my need to control the outcome.

And when the silk dries -- when it is rinsed and revealed as the art that is -- I learn to accept it, to love it, to revel in it.

Then it goes out into the world, worn by someone with a certain style, a certain wit. My work is not for everyone but it is so right for those whose spirits respond to the colors, the patterns, that little image revealed in the corner that only their eyes see.

That people respond to it is lovely. But it is the creation of this art that makes me happiest.

Deborah J. Hamouris
December 1, 2003