Today, I got my chance to combine story-telling with stitchery.
My church is hosting an exhibition in November, called the Art of Remembrance; a local artist, Jacqui Gallon, has a particular interest in using art with folk who have been bereaved, and is facilitating the workshops which support the project. The idea is that anyone can remember their loved ones by creating simple artworks - artworks that will be displayed during the exhibition at church.
(I'd already enabled one piece of art at NIBS - we used the 'I remember' exercise again, thinking of people we'd loved and lost, then wrote out words and phrases with coloured pastels and chalks and felt pens onto large sheets of paper. These large sheets will be quartered and used in one of the artworks.)
Today, we did slow stitching. It's a coming together of simple stitching - if you can thread a needle and do a running stitch, you can slow stitch - and of memories.
There was a wonderful array of materials to choose from - some dyed with natural plant material foraged from our church woodland - and after a brief introduction from Jacqui, we chose our bits and pieces and set to on a 'warm-up' which developed into the real thing. It was a privilege to be privy to some of the memories that had inspired the choices of fabrics and embellishments, and I can't wait to see them all displayed.
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| Moira's workbasket and some sample pieces |
I thought I'd share the story behind the two pieces I finished and the one I have to complete.
Green.
My grandparents both had gardens. Grandma's was long and thin and sloped up behind the house. It was a functional garden, growing gooseberries and currants and veg - the only bit of lawn was right at the far end, near the shed, and I remember the bean canes behind the shed...
Granny and Grandpa's garden was much bigger, but there was still a lot of it turned over to produce. I remember Grandpa making pea pod wine after he'd shelled his peas...and my uncles breaking into the 'wine cellar' to drink it at the wake after Grandpa's funeral. There was a much bigger lawn, and paths around the back of the borders that we used to run around. Granny was registered blind, so sound and scent was important to her in the garden, so I was delighted to find a piece of fabric with a little bird sitting in a tree.
I knew this piece had to be green. As I sewed, the straight lines reminded me of the lines of produce, and I left the ends trailing because in spite of how carefully you plan your garden, there are always some plants that can't be constrained to the lines...
Clothes.
I also have distinct memories of some of the clothing worn by my grandparents. Grandpa was a working man, so I remember his boiler suit. I also remember him in cricket whites at a weekend during the summer. Granny loved colour, even though she struggled to see it sometimes, and I can still see her in a kaftan and large floppy sunhat on the beach in North Wales when we holidayed together. With Grandma, I think of aprons and crimpolene dresses - she believed when you got to a certain age, you should dress a certain way. She only ever used one dress shop in Leicester, because it sold those kind of dresses.
Seeing the shirt in the material stash made me think of clothing, and although it's nothing like anything my grandparents would have worn, it gave me my theme. Using a complete piece of the garment meant it was recognisable as an item of clothing rather than simply a scrap of fabric, and it provided a strong link to my memories.
Black, red and blue.
A good friend of ours died suddenly, years ago, in a motorbike accident. He was - at different times - a boat builder, a policeman, and a fireman. We only tended to see him at Christmas, at a black tie dinner a group of us have held annually for almost thirty years.
This one has got to be stitched yet, but I chose fabric for the red and blue of his professions, and I want to stitch waves instead of straight lines, for the sea. The black fabric, black sateen ribbon and a black button represent the dinner jacket he'd wear at our Christmas dinners. I'd have loved to include a piece of black leather too - mainly for the bike leathers he stripped out of (having biked all the way from Orkney) at our wedding, revealing his posh suit underneath... But also because ultimately the motorbike he loved was the reason for us losing him.
It was a real privilege to see the thought and memories that poured into these simple artworks - many of them probably no bigger than six inches square - and I am sure they will prove to be a powerful stimulus for others when they are viewed.
And if you doubted that we had fun - remember that nice neat table at the start of the session? This was it halfway through the session...!
