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  • About
  • Blog 2014-2021

Triumph of the Unexpected

10/20/2020

 
Picture
Milkweed fiber (gathered green); winter squash shell
When I was 12 or 13
I learned to sew clothing.
It was a bribe from my mother--
"If you do such-and-such
without complaining any more
you can also take that class
at the fabric store."
Picture
Naturally, I totally went for it.
I mean, I was longing to sew properly:
​
--to master 
zippers and waist bands,
 the matching of plaids,
the smooth fitting of sleeves and facings,
the interpretation and adjustment of patterns

--to have real projects
and a proper reason
to  work with the sewing machine


--to understand the fabric itself
and know intuitively
​how to make the perfect choices

​--to make the garments of my dreams
Picture
As for the other half of the bribe--
(the thing I was being bribed to do),
well, I was a kid and well used to
enduring things I disliked
 while looking attentive
 and absorbing the necessary
 to regurgitate later
​in an acceptable form--
all while truly focusing 
on the pile of possibility
waiting at home
on the card table
by the sewing machine.
Picture
dogbane cordage; milkweed cordage; indigo
It is a useful skill--
pretending to be attentive I mean--
if not nearly as useful,
as the one that came
from the sewing class.
Picture
Milkweed cordage four selvedge (Fringeless) warp
I say  "the one" 
because though I went on to make
many many garments over 
the next few years,'

my sewing skills
never grew beyond the serviceable.
Indeed, though I continue to
make, wear and mend 

a large portion of my current wardrobe,
the shaping of my favorite fitting garments
is accomplished with knitting needles
rather than darts.
And matching plaids?
Maybe in my next life.
(And really, who but a thirteen year old
would think that she could
totally understand sewing
after six lessons 
in which she made
one lopsided
if beloved
​ skirt?)

And as a reader of this blog,
you'll know well
that true understanding of cloth
is as elusive for me as ever --
​thank goodness.
Picture
Milkweed cordage for warp and weft
No, the skill I revere--
the one I rely on
more than any other,
find myself using,
 and (hopefully) honing
every
single
day--
Picture
Milkweed cordage (white); untwisted willow bark (green); boiled willow bark cordage (brown)
 is noticing:

--the light on my laundry
--that empty winter squash shell
(baked and scooped)
sitting by the compost bucket
--the rhythm of the first half
of this sentence (if not the second),
--the glint of a strand of fiber
lifting from a drooping stalk

--the gut-settling satisfaction
of said strand twisting
 almost of its own accord
then settling into a warp
--the awkward feel (and lovely look)
of untwisted willow bark.
Picture
making weft in the moment..
It's not just noticing though.
There are the added bits
of noticing that I noticed--
then noticing what I noticed--
and then believing it all--
that make this useful.

And that is was what I learned
from sewing class.

Actually, it wasn't  in class
that  all that noticing occurred.
In class I was concentrating 
(​of course).
The noticing happened
when I was at home
alone
​with the materials.
Picture
Milkweed Tapestry #1; milkweed, willow bark
There I stood by the card table,
(still wearing my scratchy

pink and grey herringbone school uniform
with the matching pilled pink polyester shirt,
falling down blue cabled knee socks,
and thick, brown leather shoes
with the slitted flaps to cover the laces),
my hand on that pile of possibility:

-- slightly rough
blue cotton cloth,
-- pattern pieces carefully cut
(notches and everything),
with the crinkly paper
still pinned in place
-- unsullied spool
of coordinating thread
--empty bobbin 
--sharp, new, orange-handled
Fiskars sewing shears,
my first private pair
which no one else
(on pain of who knew what)
was allowed to touch
FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER--

​and I thought:
Picture
Paper Peplum #1 (detail): hand knit used coffee filters (Melita, bleached) plied with mill spun linen singles; wire; apple wood; Milkweed Tapestry #1; Milkweed; Willow Bark
"This--
 is a thing I like--
more than anything
--
this cloth--
this idea--
this almost--
this about to--

this liking
and it is mine."
Picture
Paper Peplum #1: hand knit used coffee filters (Melita, bleached) plied with mill spun linen singles; wire; apple wood; Milkweed Tapestry #1; Milkweed; Willow Bark
Bombarded as I was then
(with adult's ideas
of what I should do),
and as we now are
(with images and ideas 
and material dissatisfaction),
noticing remains, I think,
a hard skill worth honing --
even if following the results 
sometimes get me in a lot of bother,
not least, sitting out in the cold woodshed
for days --nay weeks--
scraping away at stemmy stalks
all for a few grams of fiber
for I don't know what.

And today,
instead of writing a sensible and useful critique
of my milkweed tapestry experiment
to go with the photos 
I couldn't resist taking this morning
​because the light was so lovely, 
I've ended up following
a wild hare across the moor
and into the past
and now I'm going to spend
the rest of the afternoon
trying to remember
what those shoes with the flaps are called
(do you know?)
PictureVessel of possibility: Milkweed; volunteer Winter Squash shell

Then again--
I don't' yet know how I feel
about the milkweed tapestry
(or even if I like the tapestry itself
as much as I liked it half way through),
and today,
as back then,
I can notice best
when I'm all by myself.

So thank you
 for reading all the way down--

though I suppose you're not here
for my material consistency
or word/image coordination anyway.
​

And maybe, indeed,
you have a card table moment
of your own.
Beverly Weaver
10/20/2020 03:44:13 pm

Vintage Foundry The Kenyte Kiltie Black Leather Oxford is what I found..

Jodi
10/20/2020 03:48:49 pm

Omg, I need a teensy cardigan sweater on a teensy wire stand holding a teensy milkweed tapestry. I LOVE THIS!!

Ann Marie
10/23/2020 09:31:06 am

On top of a book of upside down fairy tales. As it should be!

Janet Kovach
10/20/2020 04:06:55 pm

7pm on the Atlantic East Coast......yes i had a card table
experience....a brand new Singer
sewing machine sitting on a well used card table was my main 13 years birthday present. This led to a lifetime of creativity of quilting,
weaving, rug hooking, embroidery,
smocking, lacing, knitting, crocheting and any other kind of fiber known to woman. That card table present was very significent.

Sharon Morris
10/20/2020 04:29:04 pm

Ghillies!!

Monica Murphy
10/20/2020 04:53:33 pm

My Scottish dancing cousins wore ghillies; they were soft-soled criss-cross lace-up slippers, with no tongue. The sturdy shoes with fringes worn by the pipers were called kiltie shoes.

Eileen Van Bronkhorst
10/20/2020 05:53:48 pm

Were they called Saddle Shoes? The fancy ones had a flap with fringe at the bottom. Only I had to wear the not so fancy ones, due to raising 6 kids. Love the tiny tapestries.

Sally
10/20/2020 06:40:45 pm

Omigoodness! Those SHOES. I had never seen them until I got to school. They seem to be called “brogues” and may be making a comeback (shudder) though in fun colors and with pink rubber soles...
But, you have satisfied the Mary Oliver command:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
Big hugs for you and all your beautiful work!

Diane Fulgenzi
10/20/2020 06:49:27 pm

Loved today’s story
and I too
have a
card table

Lyn
10/20/2020 06:57:44 pm

OMG. Stunning photographs. It's all about the light - - who could resist?

pat cooper
10/20/2020 07:08:16 pm

"this cloth--
this idea--
this almost--
this about to-"
The BEST EVER

Patti Kirch
10/21/2020 12:16:21 am

Thank you Sarah for today's sunlit visuals and rhythmic story time in the chapter on Milkweed, Tapestry and shoes from the past...

Andrea Maria Oland
10/21/2020 02:58:38 am

And maybe, Sarah, your observation skill is reflected in the light of your photos.

Nancy Kramer
10/21/2020 04:19:32 am

Pure poetry!

Paula Kenny
10/21/2020 05:39:57 am

We always called those shoes “kilties.” My mom always wore kiltie golf shoes. She didn’t seem to mind flipping the extended tongue to do up the laces.

Beth Hutmacger
10/21/2020 05:52:02 am

Sarah, I followed you all the way to the end, drinking coffee in the dark, listening to Baroque music on the radio. I’m grateful to be in your world. Thank you.

Jamie
10/21/2020 06:51:47 am

Lovely read. We’re they called brogans?

Mandy
10/21/2020 07:15:08 am

Thank you for telling us about 'noticing.'
It is such a useful and yet elusive skill and every bit of telling us how you do it helps.
This 'noticing' infuses your delightful writing in the most spontaneous way and tickles us every Tuesday.
The milkweed weaving is gorgeous, the little sweater is even more gorgeous. You are so talented and so creative.
When I grow up I want to be just like you!

Melody
10/21/2020 12:07:09 pm

I’ve recently started a new venture into social media, and have realized the gift I’m getting from this experience is remembering to really see. Looking for things to photo for sharing has got me noticing things in a way I had drifted away from. Thank you for sharing your card table story. Being in the moment is such a gift.

Deb Watson
10/21/2020 01:02:50 pm

In my school in CT they were called Abercrombies. I was not in the "in" group, and I just had a pair of brown tie shoes, laces all exposed!

Mickey
10/21/2020 07:08:07 pm

Oh, the shoes. Thick white socks and brown Oxfords, truly hated footwear. The bow tie and the beanie made the uniform memorable. Have not thought of the outfit in years.
Love the sweater.

Jacky Radbone
10/22/2020 01:04:58 am

Oh how I love your newsletters, they make me feel peaceful in the midst of all the chaos in the world. I was an avid reader as a child and my best presents were always books. I loved to see your beautiful little knitted cardigan and milkweed tapestry sitting on top of Grimms Fairy Tales, a book I read over and over as a child.

Ann Marie
10/23/2020 09:34:00 am

Noticing ALL the time, but never thinking about it, so this post was a reminder of how good that noticing is. 13 years old, walking 1/2 mile or more to Singer shop for sewing class. FIRST project was a SMOCKED dress. SMOCKED! Really...and yes, cutting the patterns with all the little notches. Thank you, Sarah, for this post. Made my day.


Comments are closed.
    Picture

    ​Sarah C Swett 
    tells stories
    with
    ​ and about

     hand spun yarn. 


    Picture
    Click for info on
    my four selvedge
    warping class
    with
    ​ Rebecca Mezoff  
    fringeless


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