Friday, December 9, 2011

My Butterfly Soars in Memory and Honor!

Greetings Blog Friends and Welcome to my studio.
I hope you are enjoying the Christmas season. Creating is slowing down for the moment in my studio, but before I close the door to enjoy some holiday time, I had to complete and send my Butterfly for the Butterfly project to honor the 1.5 million children who lost their precious lives in the Holocaust.

To read all about this project you can click HERE or the button to the right on the sidebar. A museum is being planned in honor of these children in Houston, Texas and the Butterfly creations designed by so many in blogland around the country will grace that museum. The deadline is Dec. 31st and I finally got mine sent in time which first goes to Trudi of Two Dresses Studio blog. From Trudi the Butterflies will make their way to Houston. A wonderful project and so meaningful. We will never forget and in honor, this wonderful museum will give voice to those little ones lost, set to open in the spring of 2013.

Here is my humble Butterfly made from papers and 3 layers. I used hearts and lace to represent the heart of the children. Vintage tea stained handmade lace to represent
a time long ago and ink winged designs with a bit of color to surround the vintage children in the center representing the young lives gone too soon.

Thank you to the Holocaust Museum in Houston and to Trudi of Two Dresses Studio for the opportunity to participate in this important event.

The Butterfly theme was chosen based on this poem.

I Never Saw Another Butterfly
The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow
Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing
against a white stone....

Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly way up high.
It went away I’m sure
because it wished
to kiss the world good-bye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here
Penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found what I love here.
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut branches in the court.

Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don’t live in here, in the ghetto.

Written by Pavel Friedman, June 4, 1942


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