My mother passed into God’s hands a few days ago. I’m sure she is enjoying her freedom from pain and seeing his glorious face. My mother wasn’t a quilter but she was a sewer and pattern maker out of necessity. She had 5 children and we didn’t have much money growing up. What we had and benefitted from was her talent. She could take an old adult wool coat and without patterns, make 3 spring jackets for my sisters and me to wear on Easter Sunday. Her fabrics and Nechi machine were treasured items.
I inherited this love of fabric from her. My first recollection of me and fabric was when I couldn’t keep my hands off her new midnight blue satin dress hanging on the door waiting to be finished I think for New Year’s Eve. The problem was, I had an ice cream cone in my other hand. The dress was ruined and oh how she cried. But she forgave me.
She didn’t forgive me quite as easily when she had just finished upholstering a chair in the newest naugehyde fabric. Gosh, I just wanted to see what would happen as I punched the pencil into it. Such glorious holes it made! I was drawing with dots!
My mother introduced me to the dress factory and the wonderful piles of yardage, parts, pieces, threads and buttons. It was a great day when we went to the dress factory to shop. She taught me how to use a sewing machine and follow patterns when I used one. I got an “A” in Jr. High home ec class because I made a pinafore for my 3 yr. old neice without a pattern and my mother taught me that.
I thought it was appropriate at this time that I show a close-up of one of the panels from my art quilt “The Power of Three”. This is part of the center panel. The quilt was shown at the 2009 Sacred Threads exhibit and also at the HillnHollow Guild show. It isn’t a pretty quilt, it wasn’t meant to be. It is an emotional quilt for me.
This quilt came into being because I jumped on the band wagon of the QA list and tried my hand at rusting fabric. This was right up my alley, thanks to my mom. No patterns, no rules to follow. You know how you see news reports of pieces of toast with a religious image on them? I have to confess that most times I laughed right along with everyone else. But this was different, this was MY image coming through in the rusted cloth.
Yes, I am telling you that as I pressed off the cloth, there was a definite eye looking back at me. A chill went up my spine and I put it away. I thought maybe it was something I ate or the new meds I was taking. A few days later I got the piece of cloth out and put it on my design wall. Yep, everytime I passed by, there was the open eye, closed eye and nose on the face. Another area of the cloth where it was wrapped with wire looked like the crown of thorns. I even had Ron come take a look. It was still there.
This completed image has some subtle thread outlines for emphasis on the beaten and battered eye. A little on the nose and of course the hair and beard are applied. The mouth was added and so was the hair, etc. But this is truly my miracle of the cloth. I don’t show it to many people, or even tell the story behind it. However, at this time of the year and with my mother’s passing into his hands I wanted to share it with you.