I started sewing when I was about 6 years old, and way back then I loved nothing more than to sew “little” things. A stitch here, a stitch there, small pieces of fabric scraps being stitched together to make … well nothing really. It was just such a joyful thing to be able to sew scraps of fabric together and watch how those small uneven stitches held those small uneven fabric scraps together so imperfectly, yet so beautifully.
These days it seems I’ve come full circle. From the child who was so delighted with those imperfect first stitches. To the young woman who was told how wrong it was to sew like that and that stitches should all be perfectly even. To the woman I am now who knows how to sew perfectly, but mostly chooses not to, simply because it makes me happier to stitch with the freedom of a young child.
That’s what I was thinking as I began this stitched journal of Summer memories. With not a lot of free time available to me at present, stitching small pieces of fabric together is the only way I can get any personal sewing done. But as I stitched I was reminded of the young me who loved nothing more than to do this type of sewing so long ago. And the more I remembered her, the more I began to fall in love with this stitched journal.
I haven’t quite finished yet, there’s lots more to do, but I’ve painted some beautiful handmade papers and rice paper, and I’ve begun collaging them together with fabric and stitch and embellishments. I designed a PhotoArt image then printed it onto fabric before attaching it to a page.
The earth laughs in flowers … Ralph Waldo Emerson. A small booklet stitched in between the larger pages.
A teabag string and tag used as a bookmark.
Things that remind me of this Summer stitched onto an old stained teabag paper.
Secret messages.
Experiments with image transfer and paint rolled into a scroll.
Not quite finished yet; lots more to do. Sometimes it’s not about getting things finished; sometimes it’s just about the journey and the sheer enjoyment of it all.
Thanks for reading.
