“526 seems like such a large number. In dollars, it would be a nice little windfall. In days it would almost be two years. In seconds it is enough time to take one’s breath away and pass on to the afterlife. That’s what happened to George Floyd. Eight minutes and forty-six seconds under the knee of oppression equals 526 seconds of breathing before it comes to an end. This event flashed around the world, taking our breath away to contemplate, “How have we come to this?” As an artist, I needed time to reflect and pray. In response, I decided to knit. I gathered sheep wool in all shades of human flesh, cast on 526 stitches, and knitted until all the yarn was depleted. My needles choked as each stitch transferred from one to another, causing my hands to struggle to control the onslaught of tension. It was like inhaling without exhale, until the last stitch cast off of the needles. Then the unknown entity escaped like a long exhale of breath far beyond expectations, like a fragile declaration at peace. All I could humbly do was gather it up and display the latent story in a lyrical stance for your personal experience based on this tragic event. God’s knitting of humanity includes each and every one of us with a call to love one another as a sign of one in Christ. How dare we think any differently.”
“526 seems like such a large number. In dollars, it would be a nice little windfall. In days it would almost be two years. In seconds it is enough time to take one’s breath away and pass on to the afterlife. That’s what happened to George Floyd. Eight minutes and forty-six seconds under the knee of oppression equals 526 seconds of breathing before it comes to an end. This event flashed around the world, taking our breath away to contemplate, “How have we come to this?” As an artist, I needed time to reflect and pray. In response, I decided to knit. I gathered sheep wool in all shades of human flesh, cast on 526 stitches, and knitted until all the yarn was depleted. My needles choked as each stitch transferred from one to another, causing my hands to struggle to control the onslaught of tension. It was like inhaling without exhale, until the last stitch cast off of the needles. Then the unknown entity escaped like a long exhale of breath far beyond expectations, like a fragile declaration at peace. All I could humbly do was gather it up and display the latent story in a lyrical stance for your personal experience based on this tragic event. God’s knitting of humanity includes each and every one of us with a call to love one another as a sign of one in Christ. How dare we think any differently.”