this is by maria wulf. the gun was left in a cupboard when they moved into bedlam farmhouse. it waited there in disuse until the latest school shooting when she thought of the afghan at goodwill and found this baby afghan. think of afghan. the word and the blanket come out of afghanistan, country so often destroyed by violence, so continually conquered. 
think of babies and guns so disparate, linked by soft chains, by arms, held and threatened. 

maria says in her post: I think of the kink in the unraveled yarn as holding the memory of its life as a blanket.  It’s the moment between the blanket and the gun.
I see in this piece, it is an umbilical cord.  Giving new life to the gun, but also speaking to the idea of gun control as a way of saving life. 

new life to the gun, beyond intention, beyond use. i think of two objects i felted with wool, a lock, a book. i think of two i showed them to who tried to open them, one piercing the lock handle with a thumb, one slicing open the book like a caesarean birth. and the object's intended uselessness emptied out in the air as i sighed. 

i think of the subjective life of objects. after life do our thoughts enwrap them, remake them, as subjects. maybe that is a transformation inherent in their birth, through objectification, to subjective arrival,  and release from hard utility.