I never know exactly what it is I'm making when I start. When I thread the needle through and make my first loop. It could be anything. Even by the needle’s second dip I have not a clue. It could be anything. Anything at all. Isn't that amazing? To be on the cusp of creation and still not know. I think it is. To me there is no greater feeling in the world. And even as it starts to take a shape, it seems to me that the needle guides my hand, not my hand the needle. Dr Eckle's said many creative people feel this way about their art. But Dr Eckles thinks it's just a poetic way of saying we create our art sub-consciously.

Not everyone is like that though. Most people need a plan. A direction. Some place to start. Not me. I just dip my needle down, thread my loop and start another. I'll know what I've made once it's done. I think it's better that way. It's a kind of magic I think.

Dr Eckles said, I was lucky to have found sewing. He said he used to fear what would become of me if I didn't find a channel, a focus. But then Dr Eckles had a lot of fear in him as it turned out, especially towards the end. But it has done wonders for my temper I must admit. I've never felt such calm-- Oh look, I think I'm making a dinner jacket. Isn't that nice? Still it may be too early to tell. I've surprised myself before.

Let me just grab another yard of material. This is turning out to be quite the project. And dip, and loop, and dip. It's the rhythm that soothes me I think, that gentles the nightmares that scream in my head. It's still in there I know, the darkness, and anger, the red rage, the murder. I am dimly aware of it. But so long as I have my sewing I can control it. Mind you, there are times... when I run out of material... oh, yes the blackness takes me then and doesn't let go until I have some more to sew.

Human skin is amazingly malleable, don't you think?. It has such stretch, such vigour, but there's also something quite fragile about it. Something delicate... vulnerable. I think that's why I use it. It's very nature requires that it be sewn with finesse, with tenderness, with love. And art with out love is merely industry, but art made with love, with passion, with balls-- that is magic.

Huh, not a coat after all. What then? A blanket perhaps? Or a sail? Perhaps, but whatever it is, it's going to be big. I can feel it. I'm going to need more material.