Iara Lima

When this space was born, I simply called it a blog.

Today I am no longer so sure that this word is enough.

There is still a blog, of course! I keep writing texts, publishing research, sharing discoveries, and stitching together questions that arise along the way. But looking at everything that has been built over the past few months, I realized that it has ended up transforming into something else.

Perhaps a laboratory. Or a workshop.

A place where ideas are tested before they take on a definitive form.

Not every thought born here ends up as a text some have already become embroideries. Others have already turned into scientific articles. Some have found a place on the permanent pages of this site. Others simply remain as open questions, waiting for the time needed to mature.

Very soon, the homepage of this project will present everything that has already been organized.

The blog shows precisely the opposite. It exists to show thought in motion.

This is where hypotheses appear, where a seemingly small observation begins to connect with another, where a scientific article converses with a myth, and where a childhood memory dialogues with academic research.

None of this happens in a linear way, and I believe it never will, given my recent and personal discoveries about how I establish thoughts.

The more I study, the less I believe in a rigid separation between science, art, memory, spirituality, and nature. I continue to recognize the differences between these fields and the importance of their respective methods. But I also perceive that the questions I ask cut across all of them.

A leaf can interest the botanist, the artist, the anthropologist, and the embroiderer. Each looks at it from a different place, and none exhausts what the leaf is.

It was precisely this kind of encounter that began to happen here. Even when discussing distinct topics, the texts I write started to converse with one another.

The discussion about memory found Information Science.

The cycles of nature brought together Indigenous peoples, African cosmologies, and Celtic traditions not to affirm that they are the same, but to recognize that different cultures also formulated very similar questions about time, life, and belonging.

I then realized that Becoming Embroidery was not merely accumulating content.

It was building a network, almost like a spider’s web.

Each permanent page is born because one day there was a text. Each text exists because before it there was a question. And each question opens the way for another.

For me, the function of this space becomes not to offer ready made answers, but to record the journey.

That is why I like to imagine the blog as a workshop bench.

It is where the open notebooks are, the scattered threads, the stacked books, the freshly collected plants, the still-unfinished articles, and the embroideries that are still in the hoop.

Not everything that is here will remain exactly as it was written. Some ideas will grow, others will be revised and this already happens.

Some will probably disappear completely. And that is part of the process, as is the language chosen to communicate the texts. It does not mean that I am silencing myself or policing myself, but rather choosing the best version to create communication clearly.

If there is one word that today summarizes this project, it might just be becoming.

Not because everything needs to change all the time. But because understanding is also a process of transformation, and this space was created precisely for that.

To think. To experiment. To understand and to learn as much from mistakes as from successes.

Therefore, I will continue documenting the paths not only the places they lead us to.