Good Hands

I was supposed to be a ballerina. I was dancing at four. Seriously. As a backup my mother enrolled me in art lessons, also at four, also serious. I was, then, an only child. I was never very good with the pirouettes, but I loved drawing Humpty Dumpties. By the time I was eight I was pushing back on ballet class, but was happily drawing chalk designs on the sidewalk. At about this same time my maternal grandmother taught me to sew. We spent hours together sitting at her black Singer sewing machine, designing and stitching clothing for Madam Alexander and Tony dolls. (I am old.) At sixteen I reached the height of my ballet success as a Snowflake "understudy" in the Ballet West production of The Nutcracker. Yep, an understudy, after years and years of "under achievement" and self-inflicted foot pain. I neglected to mention that I am "thick" of body...not lithe, thin, willowly...or any of those words used to describe those who made up the actual Snowflake Corps de Ballet. I was an awkward cygnet who would not transform into a dancing swan ever. Anyway, at that same time, I was loving my high school art classes. OK, so here is what happened. I quit ballet. As it turned out, my hands worked so much better than my feet. If we had just figured that out earlier. I loved art. I loved craft.

My grandmother had also given me my own Singer machine. I played around with fabric and stitching during my college years when I had the time. I did a charcoal sketch of Graham Greene. I knit a cable stitch sweater for my boyfriend, which he never wore. I painted Queen Elizabeth on canvas. Anything with the hands. While teaching English and later working as an editor in Chicago, I became a craft fair junkie, hitting all the good--and bad--fairs in the area. My after work hours were spent coming up with a marketable craft. I came up with some doozies--plexiglas and tissue paperweights (the tissue faded in the light, of course), clay finger puppets on wooden stakes (they looked like "offed" heads from a guillotine), and stuffed and painted canvas doll head ornaments. My low point was participation in a garage sale in an actual multi-storied parking garage in downtown Evanston, Illinois. So bad. They taped off an area near the bottom we could use, but Evanston is a college town, and Saturdays are game days...too many exhaust fumes and too many fans. I remember carefully curating my display of hand-painted rocks, which were, as it turned out, barely visible in that dark, grimy venue. More bad. I did keep a favorite rock, thinking one day I might publish a book of ghastly and dreadful crafts. Perhaps funny to look at, but don't try them at home.

Determined to find a marketable craft, I pulled out the Singer machine, which at this point was having heavy duty tension issues, as was I every time I used it! (I continued to use that machine for years, only replacing it when my violent outbursts became inappropriate in my family setting.) I finally found success with those stuffed canvas heads. I added a body, and and began making fabric and canvas folk art dolls. This is where ballet did sort of pay off. I stitched "Twelve Dancing Ladies" as a string of ballerinas for CHICAGO Magazine. While raising two boys I continued to create what I called, "contemporary folk art," late at night or whenever I could. I had neighborhood teens help babysit and stuff dolls. I hired a wonderful Vietnamese family who helped me with the wooden dolls I eventually ended up creating. Their daughter, who was exceptionally good with her hands, became a concert violinist. I made a doll of Richard Simmons, remember him? And nine versions of a woman who loses weight he used on his TV show. I had articles in BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS. I was driven and crazy happy.

Along came my needleFolk. They are soft fabric stitching companions/pin cushions that hold scissors in their pouches--and can be customized for readers, Diet Coke drinkers, etc. I was challenged to come up with something for the needlework industry, and I've had a lot of fun making them. I think there may be an overlap with stitchers who read, and readers who stitch, so I often add miniature books with the scissors. I have been making them for at least twenty years, and they continue to make me happy. Seriously, they keep me going. A lot of it is about solving problems, finding a better, more efficient way to make something I love. There is always new fun fabric with a different pattern combination. The people I make them for are the best part; I love the care and concern they put into selecting and customizing something for someone else--and I have added some crazy stuff to those pouches. I also paint on canvas, have a collection of art cards, and continue to make wooden folk art dolls (who also hold miniature books), but the needleFolk are my favorite--and they, as do I, love chocolate!

I am grateful to my mother who signed me up for "Humpty Dumpty" lessons, and to my grandmother who taught me to sew. I hope my legacy will be a love of art/craft and creativity.

Postscript: I actually performed as a ridiculous (though loveable) "Sugar Plump Fairy," at private parties during the holiday season. Fun costume: gold logger boots, pink tights, hairnet, tutu, lollipop earrings, etc. My children were mortified.