One of the things I love about writing this blog is the knowledge that my readers get me. I write sewing time knowing that you all understand the enjoyment. I can report that I bought more fabric and expect that most of you are sighing in contentment along with me. A whole different situation is how to describe the love of sewing and fabric to the uninitiated.
Maybe you’ve encountered this quilemma as well. It’s like describing the taste of your favorite food to someone who has never eaten it. Or describing the cuteness of a baby to one who has never been close to one.
But I am going to try and let me know if I succeed. And tell me how you do the very same thing. I have only encountered it one time in books and that what is The Dive From Clausen’s Pier.
I lent the book to someone who never returned it but I still remember reading the section where she goes to a fabric store. From her description, I felt she got it, she really understood. I hope I can do half as well.
The love of Sewing
I am creating something concrete that won’t need to be redone. It won’t disappear. It is just me and the machine or the needle.
Everything seems clear and purposeful. I don’t have self doubt or other critical voices. I see the needle go up and down and then an object appears.
I am fulfilled, I am at peace in my creation. It’s happiness at its least complicated form.
I spent my adult life teaching. Whatever wisdom or mistakes I passed along are gone. The main work of my life was ephemeral.
I gave invisible bits of myself when I taught and have only limited knowledge if it was worth it or not. Performance art is like that.
When I make quilts I add to the chain of quilts my aunts and grandmother made. I contribute to the art form which has been around for centuries. I perform and it stays.
After days, months or years of small bits of work a whole emerges. There are pieces of fabric, lengths of thread and pieces of me in each quilt.
It makes me feel like some of me will live on. That the essence of me is not lost in the work that disappeared when the sun went down. Instead it is still there when the sun comes up.
With my hands I create art that will live on longer than I do. And it’s soft, warm and comforting. It’s a very primal love.
The love of Fabric
The smell of fabric envelopes me and I breathe it in. It promises creation, fun and fulfillment. The colors saturate my brain and at first, I cannot choose.
After walking around and clearing the initial infatuation I start to see individual pieces. I think about what I am or want to make. And other times I just fall in love.
I pick a finite quantity and bring it home. The bag buzzes with my anticipation and the sense of possibility.
Some rests for a while in my sewing room and I find it again later and have an actual physical reaction of pleasure. Other fabrics get made up right away and used or given away.
I love to look at it, touch it, breathe it and pull it out to examine it. I adore cutting it, sewing it and have it come to life.
Sewing quilts with fabric, the trio of pleasure in my life.
Or for those who still don’t get it. It’s chocolate. It’s champagne.
It’s your team winning the super bowl and the World Series. It’s a first kiss and a cold drink on a hot day.
It’s joy in your heart, peace in your head and fulfillment in your hands.
And a whole bunch of threads all over!
Sew happy or try to understand those who do!
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This is tied in with a post I wrote about why I don’t sew for Money.