[A post I shared two years ago.]
Four bulbs brighten my studio, giving ample light to work by. Yet as I press, cut, and sew, shadows darken the corners. The shadows hide spectres, whispering my name, nudging my attention their way. I turn, blinking. Sometimes I see nothing; sometimes I catch a glimpse of days gone by.
The spectres buzz quietly, muttering just under my hearing. Like lines of poetry, their words swirl slowly in the air, finally pushing their way into my consciousness. Many of the words are names, but the names all have their own stories, each story a memory.
The spectres and their memories arise as I pull pieces from my stash. Made from new fabrics and old, yardage and scraps, quilts are more than shape and color. A quilt becomes a literal scrapbook, full of memories both happy and sad. Each shadow of the past is firmly stitched in, just as Peter Pan’s shadow was re-attached with a few snug stitches. In this quilt a memory of shop-hopping with friends; in that a fabric used in a grandson’s baby quilt. As I include scraps from older projects in new ones, the memories continue to build.
Most remembrances are happy. The creamy background of two quilts celebrates graduations for Son and his sweetheart. Besides the celebration, I remember finishing Son’s quilt during a very dark time, and sadness permeates the remaining scraps.
Similarly, the finely etched toile of a wedding quilt lives on, despite the death of the groom’s fiancé prior to their marriage. The beauty of the fabric does not hint of the ugly parts of the story, but the spectres remember and whisper tales as I work.
Creating a quilt transforms shapes and colors, wild ideas and rigid planning. The metamorphosis converts old fabrics and new into a new form, more than the sum of its parts. Those parts include the spectres’ stories. Research has shown that good memories can supplant bad. I need no scientific proof to know it is true. With each new quilt and each new brighter memory created, the darker ones lose their power. That fine toile carries death, rejection, and pain. But when the same toile is matched with joy, with new thoughts and happy circumstances, it throws off its shadows again.
The full complexity of life shows in my quilts. Happiness is woven with sadness, birth with death, weakness with strength. The contrasts give vitality to the whole. If you know how to read my quilts, you can read those stories, too. We step into a new year, not knowing the stories that will be written in it, or written on our quilts. But the beauty will come from remembering the past, in all its dimensions, as well as in creating something positive for the future.
Exactly! This is how I tried to describe the love of my Christmas ornaments — your words are perfect. Thanks for sharing
Oh yes, I expect ornaments give the same feeling of time and place. Thanks.
This is such a meaningful piece, thanks for sharing!
You’re welcome!
Each small piece of fabric has a story it wants to tell. Only when the quilt is finished do the voices all sing together.
Good analogy there. Are you a singer? 🙂
I am. Multiple choirs as a young woman, but sadly my voice has deteriorated since a bad case of laryngitis 10 years ago.
That must be disappointing. I hope you keep singing if only by yourself.
Definitely. And I CAN still sing, it’s just not a clean tone, too ‘fuzzy’. Quite good enough to sing to myself and join in the Christmas carols!
Wow. Very powerful
Thank you.
Beautiful writing and stellar story telling. I find your blog thoughtful.
That’s very kind. Thank you.
lovely!
Thanks, Tierney!
You’ve captured what I love about the new year: January’s “Janus-faced” nature, facing both forward and back. Reflection and resolution seem to belong together at this time of transition, and you’ve done a wonderful job of expressing that.
I read recently about Advent and if I understood correctly, those are the two purposes of the season. Well, perhaps not “resolution,” but anticipation as well as that look backwards. Thanks for reminding me of the Janus connection, as well. I suppose it’s inevitable in the northern hemisphere that our time between harvests be used this way.
My enjoyment of your quilts is deepened by learning the stories behind them.
Thanks, Joanna. Some have stories I can tell, while others are too hard.
Wow, great essay!
Thank you, Mary. Hope you are well. Did you get snow?
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