Passing it on
I’ve been teaching my dear friend/ex-boyfriend how to cross-stitch and he’s making good progress with Obama. I’ve photographed it with a US quarter coin to show you scale. This is Aida 11-count fabric, and he is stitching over two squares with double threads of DMC floss to give the largest, boldest effect possible. The finished product, which was originally designed to be about 3″x5″, will be larger than a sheet of typing paper when it’s done. His careful, meticulous nature is yielding wonderful results and I’ll never get enough of that sweet sight — him in horn-rimmed glasses, beanie cap, and Converse All Stars hunched around an embroidery hoop.
Between this teaching experience and the recent visit with my mother, I’ve been thinking a lot about the mentor-ly, multi-generational, tutor-iffic nature of traditional textile arts.
Grandma M. was my dad’s mother, and she taught piano lessons. In addition to teaching me how to play the hymns on piano and organ, she also taught me to crochet and to follow a simple sewing pattern. She taught me how to press clothing and how to piece afghans. The only thing that Grandma M. was unable to successfully teach me was tatting (but we tried — oh, how we tried!).
Granny V., my mother’s mother, was a school teacher and a librarian and she lived on a self-sustaining farm. Granny V. taught me to bake bread, to grow my own food, and to knit. Embroidery, cross stitch, french knots, and needlepoint were activities I also did with Granny V. She encouraged me by choosing patterns and motifs that she knew I would like. She was patient and understanding of me as a petulant teenager whose whims would change on a dime. She would set up huge quilting frames in her front room and we would stitch together with the aunties for hours on end — cackling about this or that and “solving the world’s problems.”
A required Home Economics class in Junior High did me little good, as I had already learned to construct basic clothing and household items from my mother. Mom understands the basics of fitting clothing and working with utilitarian fabrics, but she is also a gifted quilter. When I take the time to
In a recent bestowal of good fortune (that is, in a box of discards from mom’s craftroom), I found this book:
I bring it up here because of its dedication page:
She nods to the artists of the past and passes her knowledge along to us, the artists of future generations. Later, I’ll explore a little bit more about this mentorship, multi-generational thing and why it may be so unique to textile arts.
What about you? Who taught you? Whom have you taught?
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Great questions. Who taught me?
Numerous other women in my life from my mother, an elderly friend who was a governess for years in cattle stations in north Western Australia, women in the Embroiderers guild and women in quilting groups. I have also learnt from books, and from other women online. In other words I have been fortunate enough to enjoy the oral tradition of acquiring these skills but also have learnt much from using technology ie the internet.
Who have I taught apart from my own daughter?
Probably more people than I realise but I have taught face to face and online workshops. I also keep a blog which is driven by the urge to share and see these skills still being employed when I am too old to do anything other than enjoy seeing what people make. I do hope that by that time it is what people make rather than what women make as I would love textiles to step across the gender line. (I think it gradually is but is taking time)
As to nodding to artists from the past I think I regularly do it but feel we also need to look forward too.
Comment by sharonb — 28 March 2009 @ 1:38 am
@Sharon: You are a great resource and teacher for so many of us. I wish I had your talent for community-building and crowd-rallying!
Comment by Mal — 30 March 2009 @ 11:06 am