Friday, May 22, 2009

Yellow in the garden and a yellow give-away!

I'm afraid of late it's been the garden vs. Pearl the Squirrel, and the garden's winning. If you live, as I do, where winter is relentless, the opportunity to be outside is too tantalizing. (These are very tiny, late-blooming jonquils—each flower is literally the size of a dime.) The garden wins because it's finally possible to put things in the ground and anticipate lush hosta foliage, deep pink and purple petunias, and fresh sprigs of basil and mint. And being outside just feels so good.

That is, until the last couple of days, when gnats started their dive-bombing mission. I've swallowed more than one, and when I let Pearl (the dog, not the blog) outside I've taken to carrying a hat. I spend the entire time swatting gnats off my ears, neck, and face.

Work projects have also made time for blogging scarce. But you can help me with one of them. I've been thinking a lot about my relationship to fabric and why I've chosen to express myself through textiles. What is it that draws you to fabric or yarn, that makes you long to caress it, use it, and yes, buy more of it? Is there some memory of learning to sew or knit as a child, perhaps, or the colors or textures of fabric, or the way it allows you to produce something unique? Leave me a comment that tells me about your passion for fabric, what it means to you, and why. (It needn't be long, or even a complete sentence!)

On May 31 I'll choose a winner. And that lucky winner will get something written by someone else who is totally smitten with fabric: the talented Diana Rupp (the subject of my profile for Stitch). She's the proprietor of Make Workshop in NY and the author of Sew Everything Workshop, a fabulous, sprial-bound volume with how-to tips on everything from choosing the right fabric to what to look for in a sewing machine. Although the book bills itself as a beginner's guide, there are wonderful projects included for those with a range of skills. Leave me a comment and this fabulous book just might be yours!


AnneR said...

I attribute my fiber lust (fabric, yarn, whatever) to my lust for connection to my loved ones. My grandma and my mom sewed and knitted things for me (and my Barbies) and taught me to sew, so I "blame" them for getting me started. While I've never considered myself artistic, I know I have a decent design sense, and that's something I'm told is a Wasmund (my grandma's family) attribute--something I share with my dad, my uncle, my grandma, my great aunts, my great grandmother. Most of them are gone now, but when I create, I feel them in my sewing room with me.

So that's what got me started. Friends like you, Linzee, have kept me going, bringing great laughs and emotional support (and the occasional adult beverage) to the sewing room. Our chatter about projects is what drives me to the online quilt shops and makes me a regular at Sarah Jane's Yarn Shoppe. It's more fun to buy fabric when you know exactly who will share your excitement.

Anonymous said...

Votre mère coud quotidiennement. Elle crée de belles choses pour les amis et la famille. La créativité sans tissu serait impossible. Bonne chance avec le gagnant ! - BK

Anonymous said...

i love textile arts, and watching what my mama makes in her sewing room. i wish i had the patience to (wo)man a sewing machine more often myself.

Anonymous said...

I am drawn to bold patterns and colors in fabric. I think it's interesting that while I wear a lot of black and navy, and really don't dress in a particularly interesting or flashy way most of the time, when I go to the fabric store I make a beeline for loud, quirky prints.

Although I have a very hard time completing projects (the number of half finished scarves and hats I have knitted is obscene), I still get excited about starting them. I am working hard to actually follow through on projects, because it means I might allow myself to go back to the fabric or craft store and buy more fun stuff.

anne said...

I think part of my attraction to fabric and sewing is that it's so tactile. It's a great feeling to work on something real and solid, with texture and shape and permanence. It's a nice contrast (and break) from everything I do at the computer/online: reading, writing, e-mailing, editing and sharing photos, shopping, etc.