A Week of Rain, A Pot of Flowers
A spontaneous textile piece stitched through gray skies, quiet joy, and little voices in the background.
“Sun & Flowers” began not with a grand plan, but with the simple act of gathering what was left behind. After completing several sketchbooks and journal projects (including Found and Bound and The Bay-an Journal), I found myself with a pile of fabric cutouts—odd shapes, familiar textures, and remnants that still held potential. Rather than trim or reshape them further, I decided to let these scraps speak for themselves.
The process was intuitive. I began by spreading the cutouts over a patched base I had sewn together using similarly leftover whites and creams—scraps of lace, hems, seams, and other soft fragments often set aside. That patched canvas became the quiet foundation, like a blank wall waiting for something to bloom.
I didn’t sketch or plan. Instead, I instinctively moved the pieces around, arranging and rearranging. I wasn’t looking to create a literal image, but as the scraps settled, a form slowly emerged: a pot of flowers, cheerfully blooming in front of what began to look like a curtain of green.
That green curtain became a small point of conversation—especially with my daughters. As I worked, they’d often stop by and comment, with all the honest clarity only children can offer:
“This big green fabric looks so plain. And big. And you stitched it with a similar shade of green , so you can’t even see the thread.”
“So what do you think I can add?”
“Hmm… maybe light green?”
They weren’t wrong. Their suggestions helped me look closer, notice more, and make small shifts that mattered. My husband, observing my tendency to loop through endless decisions, gently offered:
“Maybe you can also use a reference next time… so you’ll know when you’re done.”
And perhaps that’s why I decided to embroider the words “Sun & Flowers” onto the piece. Not because it needed a title, but because I simply felt like stitching words. It was a grounding act, like signing off on something personal and unpolished.
What I didn’t realize until later was how oddly poetic the timing was. The entire week I worked on this, it rained. Gray days, thick skies, and no sun at all. I even thought at one point, Was this piece a little out of place? So sunny and blooming while everything outside was drenched?
But the day I finally finished it—the rain stopped. The sun appeared. The first time in a while.
It felt like a small, quiet affirmation.
“Sun & Flowers” is not just a stitched work—it’s a patchwork of presence. Of spontaneity. Of rainy days filled with children’s comments and slow decisions. It’s what happens when you trust your scraps to lead the way.
I am honored to share that this small piece is now on view at SM Baguio under my name Lenny Onangey Mendoza, exhibited alongside works from other artists belonging to Pasa-Kalye Group of Artists and other groups participating in the SM Art Market this July. If you’re in the area, come by and experience these handmade pieces in person. And if this piece speaks to you, you can reserve it here.
Update (July 18, 2025): This piece has already been sold and is no longer available for reservation. I’m deeply grateful that it resonated with someone and has found its new home. Thank you for the continued support, and I hope you’ll still drop by to see the exhibit and explore the other handmade works on view.
Thank you for reading.
You can explore more of my textile works and handbound journals at the Coleela Shop or follow along on Instagram @rags_and_she for behind-the-scenes glimpses and slow art stories.
Let’s keep finding beauty in what’s left behind.
