Kindness. Women’s issues.
Social justice.
Personal histories.
These are just a few of our shared interests.
We, like many others, discover our common threads through art, and more often than not, we use cloth to tell our stories and speak our truths.
“You, too?” If we had a nickel for every time we’ve said that, we’d buy all y’all lunch.
We’re not carbon copies, yet even in our differences we find opportunities to rejoice, chortle, and learn. If that’s not the mark oftrue friendship, please tell us what is.
Here’s to the joys of an ever-unfolding friendship that began with a funny story at Sacred Threads 2019. Ask us to tell you that one some time.
~~~~~~~
Imagine a World: Nancy’s Larks + Be Kind – a collaboration by Maxine and Jeanne – will be on exhibit at the Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum in Carrollton, GA from September 25 to December 20, 2024.
Heavily-feathered birds, all dressed up and ready to travel to the Imagine a World Exhibit
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Before we get started, a few things I want you to know:
– Though I haven’t sent our emails in several years, I’ve sent you 2 this week. That will not become a habit, regardless of how much I have to tell you.
– I plan to write articles here – especially now that there’s so much to tell you with the exhibit opening soon, so I’ll send an email once a week or once every other week with links to articles I’ve posted. Today’s article is time sensitive, and I’m gonna’ try to do a better job of planning ahead. (I need my 19 month old – and adorable – granddaughter who lives with us to get on board with this! Wish me luck, and thanks in advance for understanding when I don’t get as much done ahead of time as I’d hoped.)
– Most importantly, I want y’all to know that I appreciate you. Now, let’s get on with the exhibit news.
—————————————-
To hear me read this post, mash the right-pointing arrow above.
Turns out, it takes a flock to create a new world.
Would you like to help create this new world where everyone
and we do mean everyone
is welcomed with open hearts?
Do you enjoy creating something that’s fun, fast, and freeing?
Are you like us – dedicated to supporting folks with disabilities and creating a world fluent in Kindness?
Great! Then read on . . .
Nancy draws, I stitch her drawings. It is our Communion.
Our birds are based on Nancy’s fourth set of drawings
(scroll down to the third entry to start reading about her birds)
that sure look like birds to us.
Delightfully different birds.
Just as no two people are the same,
no two of these birds are the same.
We’re not copying her birds, mind you,
we’re just using them as examples
and as permission slips, if you will,
to cut loose and be free
as, well, free as a bird.
Some of our birds have no wings.
Some have one wing.
Some of the birds we’ve made have 4 legs
Some have one leg
Some have 7 legs
Some have no legs.
Some have seashells for eyes.
Some have no eyes.
Some have feathers
Othes are embellished with vintage jewelry.
All sing a song
even if we can’t hear it.
These birds don’t come with a pattern,
they’re cut free-hand
with scissors or a rotary cutter.
We sometimes draw freehand birds on cardstock paper
and use those as templates,
just because it tends to save time,
allowing us to make more birds.
We’ve made birds from placemats,
bedspreads,
old clothes,
and fabric we love and have been saving
for something special.
The thread doesn’t have to match the cloth on these birds.
They don’t have to be beautiful by art design standards.
Nobody is grading these birds
or selecting them based on their aesthetic appeal.
That’s the whole point of this exhibit:
everybody is welcome
and everyone delightfully different in every way imaginable,
We don’t judge in this world.
That wouldn’t be kind,
and kindness is the only language
spoken here.
We welcome these birds – every one of them –
into our circle of friends,
welcome them to our table,
welcome them to this new world,
knowing that their presence will
make this a better world
a more enjoyable, fulfilling place for all of us
to live.
If you’re interested, fantastic!
Grab some fabric
cut some one-of-a-kind birds
and ready, set, sew!
Oh – one very important note:
we will need your bird to bring
their own hanging loop with them.
That is to say, they need to come with a
hanging loop to help them fly through the sky.
You can topstitch these birds
or stitch them right sides together,
turn, stuff, and stitch the opening closed.
And the stuffing?
Feel free to use what’s within reach:
paper towels, tissues, fabric scraps, paper –
you get the idea.
You can embellish as you well
or send them plain.
Either way they will be welcome
in Kindness Route 1.
They’ll quickly find friends
as they fly through the sky of our world
and tickle visitors who come to call
colorful reminders that (with apologies and appreciation to Ray Stevens)
that everyone is beautiful in their own way.
The fine print:
We don’t plan to send these birds back to you,
but if you really, really want your bird
to make its way back to you, let me know, and we’ll figure something out.
Instead, we’d like to offer them up for adoption
as a way to raise money for
the Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum.
Each bird will take this story
to a new home where they will be
treated with kindness for the rest of their lives.
The financial contributions will be put to good use
by the museum. I promise.
And we – Maxine and I
plus all the visitors
and museum volunteers
will be enthralled with your bird’s presence
in this amazing world we’re working together –
and now with y’all –
to create.
I feel quite sure
that adopted or no,
they’ll leave a lasting impression on all who see them.
So what do you say?
Will you become part of this big, fat, crazy idea?
Will you make a bird (or several) today or tomorow
and get it in the mail to us so it can arrive
by September 24, 2024?
Even if it’s gonna’ be late,
please send it
because whenever it arrives
your bird(s) will arrive to
big smiles
and much gratitude
and will take a place in the sky
of this world of kindness.
(We’d just love for your birds to be part
of our Opening Night event, if at all possible.)
Note: Not that we’ve tried, but
Maxine and I don’t believe it’s possible
to make these birds without a smile on your heart and face,
and we Know that the kindness, caring, patience, exuberance
in your heart
will transfer into the bird(s) you make
with every stitch.
We’re oh so grateful
to the Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum
for this opportunity,
to y’all for helping us fill the sky with
birds not of a feather, but of a story.
Birds of a story – their own individual story.
helping us change the world
by changing lives,
bearing the important message that
you can never go wrong with kindness.
Send your beautiful birds to:
Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum
306 Bradley St
STE C
Carrollton, GA 30117
Whether you send birds or not,
we thank you for helping us
change the world
by being kind
to even the most different among us.
~~~~~~~
Road signs you can click to find more information and updates:
FOR YOUR CALENDAR: EXHIBIT DATES
Opening Date: Wednesday, September 25, 2024
Artists Mix ‘n Mingle: 4 to 6 p.m. on Wednesday, September 25, 2024
Storytelling + Workshops: October 15 (stay tuned for specific details)
Storytelling _ Workshops: November 19 (details coming soon)
Kindness Celebration: 4 to 6 p.m. on December 3, 2024 (Y’all are gonna’ LOVE this! Stay tuned for details.)
To hear me, Jeanne Hewell-Chambers, mash the arrow on the left of the above media file. (Apologies in advance for my allergy-laden voice. Oh, and any knocking around you hear in the background? That’s The Engineer repairing our air conditioning.)
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth . . .
~ from Kindness, a poem penned by Naomi Shihab Nye
At Sacred Threads,
a sacred coincidence . . .
When one woman uses her elbow
to shove me aside
and position herself
in front of the man who was
sharing a phone number with me
of someone who might be able to help me find
a suitcase lost in transit,
I turn – stunned –
to find a woman quietly waiting
to talk to me.
“I think I have something that belongs with you,” she says.
Thinking blocks or quilts for The 70273 Project,
I mentally envision my luggage
in search of space to get her contributions home with me.
It is not cloth contributions Maxine brings me,
however, but a story of Minni,
a woman who,
through a series of coincidences,
finds herself working at the Nuremberg Trial
of physicians. On trial were
many members of Aktion T4,
the secret organization
responsible for murdering (at least)
70,273 people with disabilities.
From rudeness to kindness.
From being shoved aside,
to standing smack dab in the middle of new possibilities.
76 years after the
end of Aktion T4
(though not the end of the
unimaginable murders, mind you),
a big, fat, crazy idea
lights on my shoulder and whispers
”Listen up, Shug, cause here’s
how you’re going to spend the next
several years of your life
and all your children’s inheritance.”
And because I couldn’t not do it, The 70273 Project was born
10 days later,
before I could think myself out of it.
From knowledge of unfathomable atrocities
comes worldwide compassion
and vows to be constantly vigilant
for opportunities to
counter hate, arrogance, and meanness
with compassion and education.
Were they caught up in their game
or were they a product of their home environment?
We’ll never know,
but their callous disregard for Nancy’s precious life
impacted countless other lives.
From their senseless actions
comes a new way of communicating, a wordless soul language
Few words
+ small marks
= communion.
It’s a world of riotous color
comingling with black and white.
A world filled with a forest of trees,
the likes of which you’ve never seen.
Brightly colored moss covers the forest floor,
and birds of various abilities, likes, talents, and song
fill the air.
It’s a land where differences are
not feared or shunned
but cherished and celebrated.
Stories are lived, shared, enjoyed by all
in this world.
The living beings who call our world home
learn from each other
enjoy being with each other
nourish each other in ways large and small.
Life is a feast in our Rural Route 1,
and we hope you’ll make a note on your calendar
and visit us here in the land of social media
and there at the museum
to learn more about Minni and Nancy,
The 70273 Project, how kindness can (and does) triumph,
and more. Much, much more.
Who knows?
Perhaps you’ll even find your way to visit the exhibit.
We sure hope so!
Imagine a World: Nancy’s Larks + Be Kind
Opening Wednesday, September 25, 2024
Artist Mix ‘n Mingle 4 to 6 p.m.
Treat yourself to being the first to know about
opportunities for involvement (there are several,
and I think you’re gonna’ like them!),
special event details, sneak peeks, and other fun tidbits and tales
by subscribing.
~~~~~~~
Road signs you can click to find more information and updates:
Nancy’s 4th set of drawings – 95 delightfully different, wonderfully wonky birds. Stitched individually and presented here in book form.
Imagine a World, a poem penned and read by me, Jeanne Hewell Chambers (who is fluent only in English and Southern, and while I adore the word “reliquaries”, it tangles my tongue every time. That’s why I spelled it in this reading. Sigh.)
Imagine a small town as big as the world being created
through quiet, non-aggressive, unpretentious ways
by kind hearts and doers of good deeds.
Imagine this big small town furnished with a single table graced with lush bouquets of chortles,
understanding, and recognition. Imagine ever-replenishing platters of stories being constantly served up at this table,
witnessed without judgment
and told with undaunted mettle.
Imagine a table with an abundance of leaves, where there is always room
for anybody to pull up a chair.
No special invitation needed
because inclusivity is not a word here,
not something talked about in committees,
it’s an action
a way of being
our native language.
Imagine a table where
we don’t count limbs or digits
because those are inconsequential numbers
that don’t tell us a twit about who you are or what you’re capable of.
A table where you don’t have to see to be Seen
or hear to be Heard,
be ambulatory to move forward
or hold a fork to be Fed.
Where you don’t have to sit up straight to be taken seriously
or be quiet to be allowed to stay.
Imagine a table where
those who view the world in the rich orderliness of black and white,|
formulas, and one right answer
mingle amicably with those who experience life in spirals
of riotous explosions of color and questions.
Where everybody shows up with baskets laden with attributes and abilities,
with experiences and erudition
unique to them,
and where all are welcome
because it takes every kind of elan
to accomplish good and worthwhile things.
Imagine a table
where some impart much wisdom without uttering a word
while others let their joy or needs be known in indecipherable, inarticulate shouts.
A table where
we listen over, under, around, behind, and through words,
where we listen to soulful eyes,
hands that come together in a hearty “Yes!”
and hands that remain forever still in laps.
We listen to eyes that smile
and reliquaries of tears that leave hushed traces.
A table where
we listen to crayon marks on paper,
spontaneous shuffling of feet,
and hanging heads.
to the tiniest movement of a single finger
and the almost imperceptible turn of a head
to eyes that aren’t comfortable
engaging with other eyes
and eyes that roam without cessation.
A table where we remain deeply attentive to each other
because we know that there are countless ways to express and convey
and all deserve to be heard.
This is no fairy tale . . . at least it doesn’t have to be.
Right now, right at this very minute,
there are enough capricious, uncalculated caring folks
who pledge covenants
of encouragement and empathy,
kindness and curiosity,
laughter and listening,
and in unending ways large and small
we roll up our sleeves and build this table.
With grace and gumption,
we vow to help people build their wings
without jealousy, fear of diminishment,
or dread of becoming grounded
because we know with absolute certainty
that there’s sky enough for all.
Every chair is a storytelling chair at our table
because everybody has stories worth sharing.
Every. Single. Person.
We listen to each other with openness and attentiveness
not just because that’s what we want to be shown when we tell our stories,
but because we are absolutely certain that by bearing witness with curiosity and respect –
even to those whose stories are difficult to hear – we learn something that will help us do our part to make the world a better place.
We delight in knowing that our common threads are often disguised as differences, and that our stories,
when offered and received in gentle communion,
prove ever so much more potent than bullets,
more unifying than threats,
more gratifying than feuds and vendettas,
when it comes to living together on this beautiful blue orb called Earth.
~~~~~~~
Several years ago, in a story of magic and awe that I’ll tell you about in installments here ‘n there, I met Maxine Hess, and now here we are – collaborating on an exhibit at the Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum in Carrollton, GA. We call the exhibit Imagine a World: Nancy’s Larks and Be Kind, and we are creating the world we want all y’all and us and our families and future generations to inhabit. The exhibit opens September 25, 2024 with an Artist Mix ‘n Mingle from 4 to 6 p.m. Here’s where you can watch it unfold, get more information, ask questions, and hopefully come say Hey to our faces when we’re there.
My granddaddy had one brother – Uncle William – and three sisters – Aunt Rene, Aunt Lucy, and Aunt Mary. Aunt Rene was the fun one. When ever we were with Aunt Rene, life was a party. Aunt Mary was the school marm. She knew she was put on earth to make rules that children were to obey implicitly. Aunt Lucy was the veritable encyclopedia of knowledge on everything – including raising children, which was surprising, given that she had none of her own.
The three sisters were very close. When they weren’t in the same room, they were writing letters to each other. When Aunt Lucy’s husband died, she moved in with Aunt Rene, and the two of them spent all day every day sitting by the same heater, eating at the same table, sleeping in the same bed.
When The Girls hit their mid-nineties, they began to take more naps, and every time they woke up from a nap and found it light outside, they were sure it was morning, so they took their morning tablets. Which meant 2 things: overdose and time to find another place for them to live where others could be responsible for disbursing their medications.
We found a lovely assisted living home close by so we could visit often. As the annual Christmas party approached, Aunt Rene got more and more excited. We made an appointment for her to have her hair fixed, her nails done, and went shopping for a new gold lame outfit.
The night of the Christmas party, Mother and I went to join in the festivities. We wiped The Girls sitting in the back corner of the room in front of the drink table. On our way to them, Mother made a wide right turn and stopped by to get herself a cup of wine, then we took our places standing behind them. Aunt Rene turned around to greet us, and did a quick double take. “Darlin’, is that alcohol?” she asked Mother.
Mother held the cup out in front of her, looking at it as though wondering what it was and how in the world it got into her hand. Thinking of nothing to say, she went with the truth: “Why yes, Irene, I guess it is.”
”I’ll be right back,” Aunt Rene told us, then took the cup of lemonade she and Lucy were sharing, and headed back to the drinks table where Mr. Joe, the facility’s maintenance man, was ladling out punch. “Mr. Joe,” Aunt Rene said, putting her cup down on the table and pushing it over towards him. “Put some Southern Comfort in my cup, if you please.”
”We don’t have any Southern Comfort,” Mr. Joe told her.
”I think if you’ll go look under that end of the table,” Aunt Renesaid, pointing to her left, “I think you might find some. I’ll wait.”
Mr. Joe obligingly went to the far end of the table, lifted the tablecloth, and looked around to see what was under the table. He came back shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Irene, we just don’t have any Southern Comfort.”
”Well, in that case, I guess you better give me some more lemonade,” Aunt Rene sighed.
The music started, and we all knew that meant time for dancing. Aunt Rene sat up a little straighter, dialed her smile up a notch or two, and handed the lemonade off to Aunt Lucy,. She was ready for the line of men to form in front of her. That woman did love to dance. I knew that, and that’s precisely why when we first got to the party, I asked every able-bodied man to ask Aunt Rene to dance. To a person, they said the same thing: “I sure will take Miss Irene out on the dance floor, just as soon as a slow dance comes on.”
While Aunt Rene was out for her first slow dance, smiling to beat the band, Aunt Lucy decided she wanted to go to bed. “Where’s Irene?” she asked. “I’m ready to go to bed.”
”Aunt REne is at a party, Aunt Lucy. Y’all can go to bed when the party is over,” I told her.
Aunt Lucy got increasingly cranky and louder. I spied a post on the other side of the room, drug an empty chair in front of it, and told Mother to take Aunt Rene over to sit in the chair behind the post so Lucy couldn’t see her, then I took my place in Aunt Rene’s vacated chair next to Lucy. Being the self-appoint4ed family historian, I thought this a fine time to get some stories from Aunt Lucy.
”Aunt Lucy,” I started, “when you and Aunt Rene were teenagers, did y’all go on a lot of dates?”
”NO,” Aunt Lucy barked. “Now where’s Irene? I’m ready to go to bed.”
”Aunt Rene is at a party. When the party is over, she’ll come get you and y’all can go to bed. Now Aunt Lucy, when you and Aunt Rene were teenagers, did y’all like to go to parties?”
”NO. WHERE IS IRENE? I’m ready to go to bed.”
”Aunt Rene is at a party,” I reminded her. “When the party is over, she’ll come get you and y’all can go to bed. Aunt Lucy, when y’all were teenagers, did you like to dance?”
’NO. WHERE IS IRENE? I’M READY TO GO TO BED,” Aunt Lucy screamed at me.
That was the third strike as far as I was concerned. I whipped around in my chair and said in what my children call my meanest teacher voice: “Aunt Lucy, I’ve told you that Aunt Rene is at a party. I’m sitting here being very nice to you, and if you talk that way to me one more time, you’re going to bed all right, and I am going to be the one to take you. I’ll take you upstairs, get your ready for bed, and tuck you in. Then I’ll sit with you while you go to sleep, and when the party is over, Aunt Rene will come in and join you. You’ll already be asleep, so you can see her in the morning. How does that sound?”
In the sweetest voice I’d never heard come from Aunt Lucy’s mouth, she said, “Well, we didn’t party all that much, but when we did, we did enjoy dancing.”
This year for Women’s History Month, I’m gonna’ be celebrating women in my life who make me a better woman. To get us started, meet my Aunt Rene (short for Irene). She was a mess, and today I tell you her view on age . . .
If you can’t or don’t want to play it out loud, here’s a non-verbatim version . . .
Here we see Aunt Rene flirting with the statue of a handsome man.
My Aunt Rene was a mess, which is the highest compliment you’ll ever hear at my Southern table. When Aunt Rene was rounding the corner headed to 100 (we think), my daughter Alison would often show up at family meals and events with a date. Aunt Rene would always end the conversation she was having, pull her gold lame jacket up on her shoulders, and walk in her gold lame shoes straight over to the date. She’d sidle up to him, flash her biggest smile in his direction, and ask, “Darlin’, do you have a younger brother?”
Yeah, Aunt Rene taught us how to flirt. She also taught us a little something about age: don’t tell anybody.
The first time I was with her and an adult bent down to my face level and asked, “How old are you, Sugar?” Aunt Rene put one hand on each of my shoulders and turned me to face her. She didn’t squat down with her hands on her knees, instead she used one of her hands to tilt my face up to look at her. “When somebody asks your age, don’t tell ‘em, Darlin. They do’no need to know ‘cause you see, when you give them a number, they’ll reach way down into their bag of stereotypes and pull out a description – a preconceived notion – of how people who are that age ought to act. Make ‘em treat you the way you are when you’re with them, cause age is just how many trips you’ve made around the sun. That’s just a number. Life is what matters, and life is how much sparkle and sass you put into every spin.”
The Rinse Cycle Series, Pivotal Epiphanies in a Woman’s Life:
Whispering Bones
About the Series:
We all have them – moments that startle us into utter clarity about the need for significant change. And if we’ve made enough trips around the sun, we know that it’s up to us to create the life we are meant to live, so we grab onto the thread that has guided so many before us – the thread that is being offered to us now – and begin. People – even those who initially quake in fear at how our change might affect their lives – fall in beside us, cheering us on. Ancestors gather round to aid and abet. People we’ll never know grab onto the thread, vowing to live a self-determined life, too. I immortalize the spark and the resolve in art quilts I call The Rinse Cycle, Pivotal Epiphanies in a Woman’s Life.
Size:
25.75” h x 18.5” w
Materials:
Scraps of fabric, commercial fabric, batting, embroidery floss
A Note About This Piece:
The “I Matter” note is tacked open in this photo and in the exhibit. When she finds her way back home to me, I will snip the threads holding the whisper open, fold it back into its envelope shape, and tie it closed using the strip of fabric underneath it.
Artist Statement:
When she needed it most, she heard a whispered sticky note.
Pink Galoshes Women: Aunt Addie
About the Series:
Pink Galoshes Women are those who, when confronted with obstacles, pull on their proverbial pink galoshes and tromp on through the mud and the muck to get to where they need and want to go.
Size:
19.5” h x 22.5” w
Materials:
Aunt Addie’s letters (printed, then chopped into chunks and reconnected to create background fabric of top) and photo transferred to fabric; vintage gloves and pearls; beads; embroidery floss; thread; batting; commercial fabric (back)
Artist Statement:
Committed to an insane asylum by six men because “she talked too much,” Aunt Addie found ways to quiet her soul if not her brain.
Viewing the Exhibit
The Story of Women is a hybrid – virtual AND brick-and-mortar – exhibit. To view the exhibit in person, visit the Milford Arts Council. To view from the comfort of your home, you have but to click right here.. Be sure to look for Black Wedding Dress, well-deserved winner of Best Story, by Karen Kassap. Right after the exhibit opened, Karen reached out to me via Instagram, and we are becoming the kind of friends I like best: appreciative, supportive, and encouraging. Add her friend Gale Zucker to that list, too. Gale went to see the exhibit yesterday, in support of her good friend, Karen, and afterwards she, too, reached out to me with supportive encouragement. Isn’t it lovely to be friends with so many women who are comfortable and confident enough in their own creative abilities that they feel no need to behave haughtily and be mean? I am blessed.
Dates and People’s Choice Award
The exhibit is open through November 19, 2020,. Scroll to the bottom of this page to cast your vote for the People’s Choice Award. Voting closes on November 18 to give them time to count the votes before announcing the winner at the close of the exhibit on November 19, 2020. (Oh the jokes I could make were I one to delve into politics. But I’m not, so I won’t.)
I’m delighted to tell you that three of my girls were selected to be part of The Story of Women Exhibit at the Milford Arts Center in – you guessed it – Milford, Connecticut. The exhibit opened online and in the brick-and-mortar gallery yesterday and remains open until November 19, 2020. Judge Shanna T. Melton put together a strong multi-media exhibit telling stories of women. Click here to hear from Executive Director Paige, then scroll on down to find links to the virtual exhibit, information about Judge Shanna, and on further down to find a ballot where you can take half a minute to vote for your favorite piece of art in the exhibit, the one you think should be awarded the coveted People’s Choice.
The Rinse Cycle, Pivotal Epiphanies in a Woman’s Life: Cannonball
We all have them – moments that startle us into utter clarity about the need for significant change. And if we’ve made enough trips around then sun, we know that it’s up to us to create the life we are meant to live, so we grab onto the thread that has guided so many women before us – the thread that is being offered to us now – and Begin. People – even those who initially quake in fear at the thought of how our change might affect their lives – fall in beside us, cheering us on. Ancestors gather round to aid and abet. People we’ll never know urge us on and vow to live a self-determined life of their own. I immortalize that spark and resolve in a series of art quilts I call The Rinse Cycle, Pivotal Epiphanies in a Woman’s Life. I call this one Cannonball.
“Then One Day she knew she would rather Dive in and make Waves than Drown in silence.”
Yes, the back of the swimsuit is on the back of the quilt. Of course it is!
The Other Two Girls
Swing back by sometime to read about Pink Galoshes Women: Aunt Addie and The Rinse Cycle, Pivotal Epiphanies in a Woman’s Life: Whispering Bones, my two other girls who are in The Story of Women Exhibit.
Travel bans may keep us from seeing the exhibit in person, but there’s not a ban strong enough to keep us from making art, right? I’d sure like to see and hear about what your hands are up to, and if you’re a mind to tell me, please leave a comment and/or connect with me on Instagram and Facebook. Thank you, Milford Arts Center, for your continued dedication to being a facilitator for the arts that no travel ban can stop or even detour.
The Rinse Cycle: Pivotal Epiphanies in a Woman’s Life, Whispering Bones 25.75” h x 18.25” w
Artist Statement: As we sheltered in place for more than 60 days, I was the bologna between my mother and daughter in our three generation sandwich. I struggled to keep Mother occupied and find things she could do to feel needed and useful, and I struggled to find way to tend to my daughter who was experiencing adverse reactions to a new medicine – all while keeping my husband from jumping off the nearest ledge. One morning, I declared asylum in my studio, and having zero ideas and even less inspiration – both stomped flat by exhaustion – I checked my brain at the door and went full speed into haptic mode, turning my hands loose to select fabric and create at will. This is the result. This is what my heart and hands wanted to say. This is what helped me make it through our COVID-190 togetherness . . . and kept me out of an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit.
I am honored and delighted that this piece was selected to be part of the Making It Through exhibit at the Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum in Carrollton, Georgia. It’s a virtual exhibit, and you can see it on the Southeastern Quilt and Textile Museum Facebook page. While you’re there, be sure to click on the photo to read the artist statement for each piece that will pop up and appear to the right of the image.
Forty-seven years ago today, I met The Engineer in Muhlenbrink’s, a popular bar in Underground Atlanta. We met on January 27, 1973, became engaged on April 1, 1973, and said “I sure will” on July 31 of – you guessed it – 1973. If I did my math right, in 1096 days we will have known each other fifty years, and in a mere 1, 837 days, we will celebrate our fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Fifty years of togetherness.
Oh my goodness.
Because I couldn’t pay people to wear my wedding dress and because I couldn’t bear to cut it up, I will be stitching our Love Story Adventure on my wedding dress. Not the whole story in sentences and paragraphs, but words and phrases and dates. I’ll write the stories in the accompanying journal. (I keep a journal for every cloth project I do. Do you?) I’ll be transferring photos onto fabric and stitching them onto the third layer of the dress. (These embellishments will also distinguish my wedding dress from my friend Joan’s wedding dress.
Back in those days, I didn’t know that the Mother of the Groom was to wear beige and start in the broom closet. So what did I do? I invited The Engineer’s mother to go with Mother and me to look for wedding dresses. We picked Mrs. C up, drove to the bridal shop at a nearby shopping mall, and I selected three dresses to try on . . . And bought the first one I tried on. I was not excited about the wedding dress, obviously. Once both mothers offered their seal of approval, the woman in charge of alterations made her marks, then my mother, my mother-in-law-to-be, and I went to lunch, checking “wedding dress” off the list and making plans for what to do next.
Committed is the working title of this project and it officially began tonight. After stitching only a few words, I thank myself for choosing a chapel length train instead of one befitting a cathedral ceremony.
We didn’t get the snow and ice predicted for today. Doesn’t make us sad, either.
A bird in Nancy’s fourth set of drawings
Nancy draws, I stitch her drawings. It is our Communion.
here ‘n there