Fiber Artist –Mom

I am often asked how did I get evolved with fiber art. In the past I would tell the story about while recovering from an accident I was introduced to cross stitch and that lead to a whole new interest. But over the last few weeks I have realised that I have been experimenting with a threaded needle and manipulating fibers for as long as I can remember. My Mother told me that she use to thread a needle and I would sew buttons on everything, not sure why but it may have been something that kept me entertained and in one spot for a period of time. Mom also taught me how to sew by hand and to use a machine. I had a basic idea on how to use a pattern and make simple items well before I entered Junior High. Needless to say I was very bored in the Home Ec classes making an apron.

I know an aunt of Moms had taught her to knit and that was her passion. There was always something on needles, socks, mittens, and sweaters. I am sure she lost count on how many of the Icelandic sweaters that were done in the round she made in the 80’s. She could knit one up in a day or 2. She could start a pair of socks on Christmas Eve and have them wrapped and under the tree for the morning.

Mom knitting with Me at 2 or 3 and my Aunt in the back ground

I’m not sure when she started to sew. I know she loved clothes but being a child of the Depression years probably started to sew out of necessity. She was very practical; she made her wedding dress in pink so it could be worn again. She always said to my sisters and I, “if you don’t want to see yourself coming then make it”. She must be the reason I prefer one of kind in just about everything .

Mom & Dad May 1st 1948

Moms priority was her children and very rarely did she interfere but was always supportive. She was my second biggest fan (husband is first) when I entered the art world, always interested and always encouraging on my next project.

Mom died on the 30^th of July 2010 just 18 days from her 85^th birthday. She had been ill for a short period of time but we were not expecting her to die. Knowing how she felt about what I do is part of the process of moving forward. So each day is taken one at a time and I continue to work and experiment with a variety of fibers. Some days are better than others.

Last pair of socks she knitted for me this spring. I didn’t tell her that that were put in the dryer but I can still stretch them to fit.