Her Gloves

My grandmother- my Nana Dot, was a happy and strong woman that lived to be almost 95 years old. She was known for her signature drink; the whiskey sour, her family business; The White Swan and her childhood nickname; Giggles. To me, she was responsible for providing me with my favorite childhood tradition...Nana Dot's Christmas Eve party. To be honest, there was nothing innately special about this party other than it was about family, long time traditions and I loved every minute of it!

When she passed away in May, my mom gave me a box of her old aprons, linens, and gloves. I immediately knew that I wanted to commemorate her in some way through stitch using the stories, traditions, and memories that she left behind. I also knew that I wanted it to be a gift to my mom.

The aprons were beautiful and the vintage handkerchiefs were finely stitched but I was drawn to the gloves.  There is something so intimate about a pair of gloves.  The gloves were so carefully cared for that they did not even look worn but I know that at one time or another, her hands were tightly wrapped in this fabric.  Knowing this gave me a mutual sense of sadness and comfort. Stitching these gloves made me feel very close to her.

 

The stitching isn't perfect, some of the words are hard to read but none of that really matters. Christmas was definitely different this year but there will never be a Christmas that I don't think back to all of the wonderful Christmas Eve parties and remember Nana Dot in her party jewelry, drinking a whiskey sour and hopping around to her big band music.

 

 

A Memory Through Cloth

 

 

We said good bye to this beautiful lady earlier this week.  My Nana Dot, as she was called by everyone including my friends, lived to be 95! She was a happy, positive person who never complained.  She loved Big Band music, coffee with sugar cakes and her whiskey sours! As far as crafting and art were concerned, I never saw her take an interest in any of it but she always proudly displayed my gifted hand made wares.  It sometimes even surprised me when I would come across something I made and gave to her so may years ago... Something I had forgotten about would be proudly sitting on her side table or kitchen counter.

 

My mother found a box of vintage handkerchiefs that had been in my grandma's house. She gave them to me knowing how much I would appreciate them.  It's indescribable but there is something about a cherished piece of cloth that holds so much meaning. Opening the box and touching the pieces of fabric, I felt close to my Nana Dot.  I could smell her house and imagine her folding and pressing the handkerchiefs.

 

These pieces will sit with me for awhile.  I will give it time until I know how to use them. I know that eventually I will figure out the perfect way to stitch into them and create something that will honor her memory and help me heal as well.

 

Stitching through Loss

Growing up I always had dogs in my life.  When each one of them passed I was either away at college or already moved out and on my own.  Their absence was felt and it was hard to say goodbye. It was not until my own dog, Banyan's passing this past summer when I actually felt the true devastation and loss.

Banyan was my 15 year old miniature pinscher who I had with me through many stages of my young adult life. He was with me as I got my first adult job, slept on my many sewing projects, lived with me in various apartments, and finally accompanied me into my current stage- meeting my fiancé and moving into his home. He was with me through it all.  In July he quickly became ill and I had to give him the gift of letting go. 

So many of my artist friends were so kind and offered to sculpt, paint or draw Banyan as a way to commemorate him. I appreciated their generosity but nothing seemed exactly right. I had to honor him in the best way I knew how...in cloth.

I used the background as my morning meditation.  As I stitched each row, my mind wandered. Sometimes it put me at ease, sometimes it brought back memories.  The piece to honor my friend Banyan ended up being a piece to heal my loss. Now as I'm finishing up the piece I realize, I don't want to finish this piece.  It feels too final.  I'm not exactly sure how I will feel when the time comes to bind it and frame it up.

This kind of piece is not typical for me. I usually tend to be less obvious with my subject matter.  But I felt the need to use his picture and write the text. This was not a piece that I will enter in a show or use as a representation of my art.  This piece is for me. I created it for myself and for Banyan.