Women's Handiwork
This morning I awoke to an email from an old friend asking me sewing advice. She plans on making Christmas stockings for her nieces and nephews from her father's old clothes. Very touching indeed. As I smiled that asked me for advice, I couldn't help but think about the time I spend at a sewing machine, the hours I spend sculpting projects, and the moments I have sitting with members of my Mother's quilting guild.
My Mom has been part of a guild for about a decade now, and I've been going the past few months. In February she asked me to go to the Hampton Quilt Show (Mid-Atlantic), and since one of her friends was sick I took a Curve Master class. All that is a special foot for the sewing machine made to make sewing curves easier (see my entry with Mellie Bellie's baby quilt). I don't know if it really makes sewing the curves easier, as I just made a Vogue pattern with princess curves on a regular foot. I like my regular foot . . . None-the-less, my favorite designer is Amy Butler, and I bought a few more of her patterns there and a shit load of fabric. The fabrics have all been cut and sewed into a gorgeous quilt top. Yes folks, this one is for me, and I will post pictures when I get it quilted this week. The patterns have all been used, multiple times, and a few more have been ordered, altered, and wait my sculpting with material.
Yet, working with the guild the ladies have helped me cut fabric for a quilt that I am under orders to show in the upcoming show (I have about 12 inches of bias to finish stitching), showed me functions of the machine that my Mother and I did not know about, and they have shared fabric with me. Mostly they shared fabric with me because I sewed an apron for the Quilt Show sale. They all wanted to see what it would look like, and now they all want one. They baffle that I finish projects within weeks or days (sometimes hours), that I will not start a new project until one is completed, and that I have no shame about wearing clothes I make, carry purses I craft, or send creations to friends. Sometimes my friends like them, sometimes they are put off by the fact there there is no designer label on the item (even though you would never know it is homespun). Aside, from these acts the women of the guild discuss their churches, children, husbands, and woes. They even ask me about job hunting, teaching, and they try to understand the research.
Thinking about these women, while I write or stitch on bias tape or crochet a sweater, can sometimes unnerve me. I spend much of my academic life discussing the bounds of womanhood, the defines of sex, place, and marriage, and most often the patriotic impulses of "the fairer sex" that I forget that even with all of my oddities, education, and existence outside the social norm I too am part of a female social network. I may not be married, I may not have children (ahem, I still contend that my books and writings are--even though the parents do not find that as amusing as I do), I still function within the bounds of this network. I share fabric, I borrow patterns and design books, I give the women ideas on new patterns, I show them the dos and dont's of things I have made, and I share with them. Our lives cross on the base leel of sewing, but out stories cross because we have all encoutered jerkoffs, asswipes, heartbreaks, and ups and downs.
In the middle of this summer of making a handful of bags (for me and friends), a few quilts (from baby size to queen), crocheting scarves and sweaters, and sewing four dresses, three blouses, and a pair of pants I also write. Right now I am finishing an article on American Women and Family from 1938 to 1960, which is (ironically so) the last stronghold of women to sew, crochet, and handicraft before the Women's Lib movements. Progressing though the article today, and reading some of my book manuscript, I responded to Katie's email for sewing help. Somewhat of an irony that I live the life of a feminist, write of the work women have inside and outside the home, and I still master and play within folds of a culture gone by and fading away. Fewer women, and men, may sew and handicraft, but as I write about the progression of life, family, and domesticity it is comforting to know that I still have the choice to handicraft and that there are still people who want to do it and enjoy that I do.
My Mom has been part of a guild for about a decade now, and I've been going the past few months. In February she asked me to go to the Hampton Quilt Show (Mid-Atlantic), and since one of her friends was sick I took a Curve Master class. All that is a special foot for the sewing machine made to make sewing curves easier (see my entry with Mellie Bellie's baby quilt). I don't know if it really makes sewing the curves easier, as I just made a Vogue pattern with princess curves on a regular foot. I like my regular foot . . . None-the-less, my favorite designer is Amy Butler, and I bought a few more of her patterns there and a shit load of fabric. The fabrics have all been cut and sewed into a gorgeous quilt top. Yes folks, this one is for me, and I will post pictures when I get it quilted this week. The patterns have all been used, multiple times, and a few more have been ordered, altered, and wait my sculpting with material.
Yet, working with the guild the ladies have helped me cut fabric for a quilt that I am under orders to show in the upcoming show (I have about 12 inches of bias to finish stitching), showed me functions of the machine that my Mother and I did not know about, and they have shared fabric with me. Mostly they shared fabric with me because I sewed an apron for the Quilt Show sale. They all wanted to see what it would look like, and now they all want one. They baffle that I finish projects within weeks or days (sometimes hours), that I will not start a new project until one is completed, and that I have no shame about wearing clothes I make, carry purses I craft, or send creations to friends. Sometimes my friends like them, sometimes they are put off by the fact there there is no designer label on the item (even though you would never know it is homespun). Aside, from these acts the women of the guild discuss their churches, children, husbands, and woes. They even ask me about job hunting, teaching, and they try to understand the research.
Thinking about these women, while I write or stitch on bias tape or crochet a sweater, can sometimes unnerve me. I spend much of my academic life discussing the bounds of womanhood, the defines of sex, place, and marriage, and most often the patriotic impulses of "the fairer sex" that I forget that even with all of my oddities, education, and existence outside the social norm I too am part of a female social network. I may not be married, I may not have children (ahem, I still contend that my books and writings are--even though the parents do not find that as amusing as I do), I still function within the bounds of this network. I share fabric, I borrow patterns and design books, I give the women ideas on new patterns, I show them the dos and dont's of things I have made, and I share with them. Our lives cross on the base leel of sewing, but out stories cross because we have all encoutered jerkoffs, asswipes, heartbreaks, and ups and downs.
In the middle of this summer of making a handful of bags (for me and friends), a few quilts (from baby size to queen), crocheting scarves and sweaters, and sewing four dresses, three blouses, and a pair of pants I also write. Right now I am finishing an article on American Women and Family from 1938 to 1960, which is (ironically so) the last stronghold of women to sew, crochet, and handicraft before the Women's Lib movements. Progressing though the article today, and reading some of my book manuscript, I responded to Katie's email for sewing help. Somewhat of an irony that I live the life of a feminist, write of the work women have inside and outside the home, and I still master and play within folds of a culture gone by and fading away. Fewer women, and men, may sew and handicraft, but as I write about the progression of life, family, and domesticity it is comforting to know that I still have the choice to handicraft and that there are still people who want to do it and enjoy that I do.
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