In her own words:
Good Folks was inspired by various sets of things, but all of the notions in my mind had kindness involved. Odd? Perhaps. But can't think of how else to say it. Old European linens. Family. Hand-loomed wool bedspreads. Meals. Fields. Embroidery. Needlepoint kits that I spent summers in Greece as a child occupied with. The icons of the village churches. Layer upon layer of mismatched bed linens piled on top of my floor palette in the upper room of my Yiayia's house to keep me warm even though it was the middle of the summer. Tablecloths drying in the sun. Memories of what my cousin's dowry of linens looked like. All the details. All the work. All the warmth. All the good wishes. Weddings. Wine. Love. Goodness.
Old woolen blankets, may I add. A little itchy against the skin. Priests' ceremonial dresses. Vitraux. Sweet memories that distill themselves slowly inside us, and look for ways to be acknowledged and to live on.