Here's a great example of how an object's value can change when we know more about it:
http://significantobjects.com/
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
My grandmother's quilts
A handmade quilt covers my double sized bed in my bachelor apartment. I don't remember exactly when I was given this quilt, but I've had it for several years now.
It is one of the many quilts my grandma made. Everyone in my family has at least one quilt that of hers -- most of us have several. I have four large quilts, several quilted placemants and a table runner. Although I grew up a province away from my grandparents and saw them only every few years or so, I cannot remember a time when a quilt made by my grandma was not around, used as a bedspread, a picnic blanket, or a couch cover. When I go to visit my aunt in Manitoba, I'm usually kept warm by a few of grandma's quilts when I sleep. Her quilts are a part of our family.
My grandma quilted by hand. Each square was cut and sewed by her while she sat on her couch, sometimes watching curling on the tv, sometimes smoking and chatting with family. Like the one on by bed, most of the quilts are made of geometric shapes, such as squares and diamonds. Her colour choices tended toward the vibrant and contrasting. She was always quilting, or knitting, or making something. This trait was passed on to her children and grandchildren -- we all love to make things.
As the thinning and freying edges show, the quilt on my bed has been through many experiences. It has been with me in the several cities I've lived in the past decade. It also survived a bout of bedbugs, in March of 2011. I actually found a bed bug on this quilt. There are still a few tiny dark spots on the quilt, tiny blood spots, evidence of the bugs.
My grandma doesn't quilt anymore. She cannot. She is in the later stages of dementia. When she started to show symptoms over 5 years ago, along with confusion and irritability, my grandma's dementia showed in the stitches she made. This was, of course, before she lost the ability to stitch. I can look at the things she's made, and by the stitches, I can see how far along the disease was when she made something, as it showed in her fine motor skills.
Though my grandma cannot quilt anymore, she still loves to look at fabric. I know this because when I went to visit her with my aunt last year, we took with us a bag of small pieces of fabric we found at a yard sale. They looked like pieces someone had cut to make a quilt, but never got around to finishing (or starting, for that matter). We took the bag with us to the nursing home, sat with my grandma and went through the pile of cloth, feeling the pieces, commenting on their different colours, patterns, textures. This made my grandma happy, and I felt connected to her while we looked at the fabric together. Even the last time I went to visit her, she commented on my dress, on how beautiful the floral pattern was. I love the pattern too. We share an aesthetic sense that connects us despite her loss of memory, her increasing fogginess.
A few years ago I started to make my own quilt. I'm making it all by hand, just like my grandma made them. I have the top pieces stitched together and am ready to cut the backing piece and start the process of quilting the top part down to the backing. My grandma taught me to knit, but I never really asked her to teach me to quilt. I remember seeing her quilt though, and with a few books to help me along I feel like I'm figuring it out. I'm not sure if I'll be able to show my grandma my finished quilt, but I know she'd like my colour choices, and she'd be proud of me.
It is one of the many quilts my grandma made. Everyone in my family has at least one quilt that of hers -- most of us have several. I have four large quilts, several quilted placemants and a table runner. Although I grew up a province away from my grandparents and saw them only every few years or so, I cannot remember a time when a quilt made by my grandma was not around, used as a bedspread, a picnic blanket, or a couch cover. When I go to visit my aunt in Manitoba, I'm usually kept warm by a few of grandma's quilts when I sleep. Her quilts are a part of our family.
My grandma quilted by hand. Each square was cut and sewed by her while she sat on her couch, sometimes watching curling on the tv, sometimes smoking and chatting with family. Like the one on by bed, most of the quilts are made of geometric shapes, such as squares and diamonds. Her colour choices tended toward the vibrant and contrasting. She was always quilting, or knitting, or making something. This trait was passed on to her children and grandchildren -- we all love to make things.
As the thinning and freying edges show, the quilt on my bed has been through many experiences. It has been with me in the several cities I've lived in the past decade. It also survived a bout of bedbugs, in March of 2011. I actually found a bed bug on this quilt. There are still a few tiny dark spots on the quilt, tiny blood spots, evidence of the bugs.
My grandma doesn't quilt anymore. She cannot. She is in the later stages of dementia. When she started to show symptoms over 5 years ago, along with confusion and irritability, my grandma's dementia showed in the stitches she made. This was, of course, before she lost the ability to stitch. I can look at the things she's made, and by the stitches, I can see how far along the disease was when she made something, as it showed in her fine motor skills.
Though my grandma cannot quilt anymore, she still loves to look at fabric. I know this because when I went to visit her with my aunt last year, we took with us a bag of small pieces of fabric we found at a yard sale. They looked like pieces someone had cut to make a quilt, but never got around to finishing (or starting, for that matter). We took the bag with us to the nursing home, sat with my grandma and went through the pile of cloth, feeling the pieces, commenting on their different colours, patterns, textures. This made my grandma happy, and I felt connected to her while we looked at the fabric together. Even the last time I went to visit her, she commented on my dress, on how beautiful the floral pattern was. I love the pattern too. We share an aesthetic sense that connects us despite her loss of memory, her increasing fogginess.
A few years ago I started to make my own quilt. I'm making it all by hand, just like my grandma made them. I have the top pieces stitched together and am ready to cut the backing piece and start the process of quilting the top part down to the backing. My grandma taught me to knit, but I never really asked her to teach me to quilt. I remember seeing her quilt though, and with a few books to help me along I feel like I'm figuring it out. I'm not sure if I'll be able to show my grandma my finished quilt, but I know she'd like my colour choices, and she'd be proud of me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)