Inspired

To me, crafting requires inspiration. I like to be inspired. Fortunately for me, inspiration comes easily. For example, I love color: the colors I see everyday in nature, or fabrics, my dog, the sky on a clear night in the city. I just really love color and it has inspired me to begin many hobbies. I'm an avid knitter. I sew a little, I embroider, crochet, weave, cross stitch, if it involves fabric, I have probably tried it.

The thing I love most about crafting is that it can be many different things to different people. But it can also be many things to just one individual. Crafting is a continuing source of fulfillment. Any single type of craft can be as simple or as challenging as you want it to be.

To some, a craft is a leisure activity. It's something you do when the work is done and you want to relax and transition from your busy day. To others, it's a way to challenge ourselves and learn new skills. Entrepreneurial types turn their crafting hobby into a money-earning venture. Still others join a charity craft group and create for a cause. I daresay more than one of these applies to most crafters.

No matter the reason for crafting, there is a feeling of satisfaction that accompanies the process and the completion of an item that has been made by hand. When I am engaged in one of my many crafts, I begin to feel a connection to all the crafters through time who engaged in the same endeavor. It gives me a feeling of continuity with my ancestors.

I recently began making quilts. It's a craft I have thought often about trying. I have been collecting quilting books and magazines for years with the intention of learning to quilt one day. I have a stash of colorful fabric washed, ironed, and ready to go. I have one "quilt sandwich" assembled and have made one stitching pass on the sewing machine to begin the actual quilting. I also have a flannel quilt top completed that will be a Christmas present for my Dad once the quilting is done.

I was inspired to start quilting by my Dad. He's seventy eight years old and not particularly fond of the cold. For him, I envisioned a flannel quilt with lots of color from the warm side of the color wheel to look at it would evoke feelings of warmth and love. I am a firm believer that when an item is made with love, the energy of the maker transfers to the item. This adds a dimension that you can't find in mass produced item.

The moment I decided to start my first quilt my mind was flooded with ideas and inspiration. I simultaneously planned a quilt for my dog Jessie, my husband Gary, and my Mom. A dive into my stash revealed the need for more fabric to meet my newly found aspirations.

I come from a family in which all the women know how to sew. I was born and raised in rural Kentucky where people were adept at subsisting on their own. Having been brought up during the depression, both of my grandmothers sewed out of necessity. They in turn, taught their daughters to sew. My own mother spent the entire Summer of 1973 sewing almost my entire kindergarten wardrobe. My teacher once told my mother she waited eagerly each day to see what new outfit I had on. My mother's sister was also a talented sewist who was skilled at making home sewn garments look as if they had been crafted by professionals.

Like most of my generation, I learned how to sew as a teen in that long-forgotten dinosaur, Home Economics class. Having always desired to make my own way, I had little interest in learning from my grandmothers or mother. To be honest, sewing or crafting of any king did not resonate with me at the time. I had little interest in putting my skills to use until I was much older.

But still, I used to watch my maternal grandmother sew in the evenings after the day's work was complete and her time was at last her own. She would use the dining room table for cutting and piecing and she would stitch the pieces together on her ancient Singer. With its wooden cabinet and fold-out arm, it was by day a funny table with long spindly legs. But at night, by what I was convinced was sheer alchemy, it turned into a complete sewing station.

My grandma spent hours placidly piecing and pinning, cutting and ripping stitches. There was always a calmness about her when she sewed that only came over her at that particular time. She was completely content and at peace with herself. It was the end of the day, the people and pets had been fed; the supper dishes washed, dried and put away; the flowers watered. The inhabitants of the house had settled down for the night.

My paternal grandmother had three granddaughters, including myself. She would sew presents for us in threes, so we would each receive the same thing for Christmas. I suppose she wanted to ensure that we felt equally loved by our Grandparents. The only time she differentiated were the quilts she made for each of us on our birthdays. Mine was comprised of panels with a lady holding a parasol framed with blue sashing. It was gifted to me on my twelfth birthday. That quilt has been everywhere with me. I even had it in my college dorm room. Because, as all quilters know, a quilt was made to be used and not just stored away in anticipation of a special day that may never come.

What really interests me the most is that both of my Grandmothers continued to sew, even when they no longer needed to. They began sewing out of necessity because they were poor and had big families. But when their kids were grown and on their own, my Grandmothers continued to sew. Not because they had to but for the joy and satisfaction that comes from creating something beautiful and useful.

I see it in myself now when I'm sewing. Before I realize it, I find myself in a meditative state. It is a complete feeling of quiet joy and perfect happiness. I quietly thank my Grandmothers for passing on this legacy of creativity that is ingrained in my DNA.