[Kaffe Fassett for Burton Agnes Hall] I am hopelessly fascinated by needlepoint. Mostly when stitched by other people. This week I wrote about needlepoint on the Persephone Post and it made me think about how much time can be spent on pastimes such as needlepoint, tapestry, embroidery, and quilting (to name just a few). A long, long time; in fact it’s mind-boggling to think how many trillions of hours women in particular have devoted to decorative domestic stitching.
Needlepoint, knitting, embroidery are meditative. For that reason, alone, they are worthwhile. Time passes, unnoticed. Your body calms. AND you get something beautiful or at least useful at the end of it.
Hanging in my studio is a very large, half done chair seat my darling MIL started, but never finished after her sister stole the completed ones while visiting. She lost heart and tucked it away, still in the hoop and needle threaded, never to be touched again. I have her stiffly crocheted pot holders and remains of her amazing pulled stitch linens that she never used except for company or holidays — which are in regular rotation here… I see these things and I see her beautiful, large, strong hands … hands that played Rachmaninov exquisitely, raised a garden and five children, and taught kindergarteners their ABCs and 123…. She made these things in her spare time —- time when she wasn’t making the children’s clothing or making alterations for the fancy shop at the end of the road… she used this time to make with her hands a tangible remain of her mind, imaginative and creative… as proof that she had lived a creative, albeit, somewhat socially restricted life (by today’s comparison). I create for the same reasons. I once thought I needed a feminist manifesto to be who I am…. But I’ve learned that for myself if I am true to who I am that is truly the only manifesto I need. Besides, to be equal with anyone, male or female, would be a diminishment of who I am… So, whether I am wasting my time or not, I will create and hope against hope that someone one day will touch my work and appreciate my skill and creativity, too. In the meantime, we have warm feet and beds, lovely things on the walls to enjoy, and my granddaughter loves on her hand knit doll Violet that we designed and made together when I spent a week alone with her….
Back in April 2020, in the throes of the long lockdown, I stumbled upon a long-abandoned needlepoint kit started around the start of the millenium. At a time when stores were shut down and one could only fantasize about shopping in person, my stash of yarn and other supplies suddenly turned from a slightly guilt-inducing burden to a wonderful treasure. The needlepoint kit became a way to measure time, precisely because, as you point out, progress is very slow as every inch of canvas needs to be thoroughly covered, one stitch at a time. The world slowly opened up; I eventually finished the project, ventured out, mask and all, to a studio where it was turned into a cushion (another few month's wait). An investment in time, a bit like delving deep into a long, slow Proustian read.
An avid knitter, I found that needlepoint gave me a chance to tackle the Kaffe Fassett projects that I couldn't see through in sweater form. While intarsia forces me to be wedded to a chart and keeps me from falling into a knitting rhythm, needlepoint feels easier. I don't love every minute -- knitting gives me much greater tactile pleasure -- but I enjoy switching my evening needlework between the two, depending on my mood. Three years in, my couch is covered in Fassett blooms and vegetables. They make me as happy as my colorful handknit socks -- and not a little proud, to be perfectly honest.
I hope you will forgive me for commenting here upon your latest Persephone Post, since comments (afaik) are not possible there. Your picture of the day is *Carl Ludwig Elias, Aged 7¼*, a charming portrait which hangs in Leicester Museum and Gallery. My pleasure is all the greater because (as I am sure must have also occurred to you) Sue Townsend, author of *The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13¾*, was a life-long Leicester girl. Thank you!
I think you are a little bit hard on those women who sewed. They have left something enduring behind them. Today they would probably be spending their time scrolling through social media. A better use of time?
Well, I panicked when I read the title of this post. I thought you were bidding us farewell, deciding that you'd had enough of your weekly posts. Thank goodness I was wrong! I love your posts so much, but I don't often comment, simply because I use the Substack app on my phone, and I can't bear writing anything more than the briefest message on its teeny-tiny keypad. So, this has prompted me to create a login on the laptop, and here I am tapping away with no swearing!
Kurt Vonnegut was absolutely right - as he so often is.
Very thankful that I live now and not in needlepoint heyday, as I would have been an Inadequate Woman. My sewing is what's known in the north of Scotland as "lang steek and pull hard". Recently I found my late mother's practical sewing examination pieces which she had to do in her primary teaching course in Aberdeen. Examples of buttonholes, shirt collars, and various fancy stitches, all date stamped "1947". Seems incredible that in a not so distant past this would have been taught to primary school children (well, the girls). In the Positive News Instagram this week I discovered the Loose Ends enterprise, which finishes the knitting projects of deceased people. What a lovely idea. Your picture of Catherine Dickens reminds me that I discovered on a visit to Edinburgh last week that she was a teenager when she lived at 19 Albany Street, in the New Town. I discovered this on an information board in the street, which was teeming with famous and enterprising people and visitors, including Mendelssohn. https://sites.google.com/site/albanystreetedinburgh/?fbclid=IwAR0RylFQHAL0JnRvEznB2FDLQi-hzoNeQj23kao_Am-xtWUbqN89V896x0w
While I make most of my clothes, there's a certain enduring delight in something you have made that is enjoyed every day.
My daughter wore the wedding dress I made for her once, but I will see that sofa cushion every day for many years - which is why I'm about to make myself a new dressing gown, which will be worn with pleasure every single day.
As much as Proust changed you from the inside and you took something away from the experience, so too does handwork for me. Not the least of which is sheer joy; it fills my heart and soul. I take away a sense of completeness and it contributes to my capacity to engage in the stuff of everyday life. I never see it as a waste of my time.
When I think of the time women (everyone?) spend on social media, I have to wonder what will be said of how we spend our leisure time? The results won't even be able to be locked away in attics.
Oh, you have outdone yourself this Sunday! (--though I would rather you did *not* describe yourself as “too prosaic, conventional, and unimaginative”: it’s not true). Every link reveals a whole new world (apparently--I haven’t finished clicking through them all yet): as ever it’s a Sunday-morning-lying-in-bed education. However, I will never even *try* needlepoint, nor spinning, nor weaving--not because I lack imagination (etc), but because I have to make choices, and knitting is enough for me in that line. I read you to appreciate what I am missing (and to discover gems like the Bazaar painting!).
I suppose, like many other women, this 'exercise in futility' gives me huge pleasure, imaginatively working with yarn and fabric to produce something beautiful for my own enjoyment. It's telling that Kaffe Fasset and Richard McVetis are seen as artists and their work desirable, costly, collectable while most women are denigrated in some circles for creative domestic pursuits.
As previous contributors have pointed out, it 'wastes' no more time than watching TV or scrolling on a phone (usually looking at someone else's creations!).
As you so rightly reflect, it's our ability to choose how we fill our time which is important.
I come here as primarily a writer, though I loved needlework as a child and am making my way back to it. I think we might ask these questions of worth about any creative endeavor. I am finding power in giving time to pursuits that might seem frivolous (because impermanent, because they take so much time, because they are not obviously useful in some way) just because I can. Those same kinds of arguments are the reason I abandoned serious poetry writing; the work of most poets is not remembered after their life ends. Why do we make anything we make? Returning to needlework now (in my late 50's) can feel pointless; it takes so long to get good at anything, and it takes so long to produce something. Increasingly, for me, the product is not the point. The process is. Thank you for giving me so much good food for thought, and for the links to really interesting and provocative work. Even Greer's. :-)
What a wonderfully inspiring post for January, full of colour, art, wisdom and practical enthusiasm. Brightened my day - and maybe the week and more - as well as a reminder of bundles hiidden away in my sewing cupboard..
Needlepoint, knitting, embroidery are meditative. For that reason, alone, they are worthwhile. Time passes, unnoticed. Your body calms. AND you get something beautiful or at least useful at the end of it.
Hanging in my studio is a very large, half done chair seat my darling MIL started, but never finished after her sister stole the completed ones while visiting. She lost heart and tucked it away, still in the hoop and needle threaded, never to be touched again. I have her stiffly crocheted pot holders and remains of her amazing pulled stitch linens that she never used except for company or holidays — which are in regular rotation here… I see these things and I see her beautiful, large, strong hands … hands that played Rachmaninov exquisitely, raised a garden and five children, and taught kindergarteners their ABCs and 123…. She made these things in her spare time —- time when she wasn’t making the children’s clothing or making alterations for the fancy shop at the end of the road… she used this time to make with her hands a tangible remain of her mind, imaginative and creative… as proof that she had lived a creative, albeit, somewhat socially restricted life (by today’s comparison). I create for the same reasons. I once thought I needed a feminist manifesto to be who I am…. But I’ve learned that for myself if I am true to who I am that is truly the only manifesto I need. Besides, to be equal with anyone, male or female, would be a diminishment of who I am… So, whether I am wasting my time or not, I will create and hope against hope that someone one day will touch my work and appreciate my skill and creativity, too. In the meantime, we have warm feet and beds, lovely things on the walls to enjoy, and my granddaughter loves on her hand knit doll Violet that we designed and made together when I spent a week alone with her….
Back in April 2020, in the throes of the long lockdown, I stumbled upon a long-abandoned needlepoint kit started around the start of the millenium. At a time when stores were shut down and one could only fantasize about shopping in person, my stash of yarn and other supplies suddenly turned from a slightly guilt-inducing burden to a wonderful treasure. The needlepoint kit became a way to measure time, precisely because, as you point out, progress is very slow as every inch of canvas needs to be thoroughly covered, one stitch at a time. The world slowly opened up; I eventually finished the project, ventured out, mask and all, to a studio where it was turned into a cushion (another few month's wait). An investment in time, a bit like delving deep into a long, slow Proustian read.
An avid knitter, I found that needlepoint gave me a chance to tackle the Kaffe Fassett projects that I couldn't see through in sweater form. While intarsia forces me to be wedded to a chart and keeps me from falling into a knitting rhythm, needlepoint feels easier. I don't love every minute -- knitting gives me much greater tactile pleasure -- but I enjoy switching my evening needlework between the two, depending on my mood. Three years in, my couch is covered in Fassett blooms and vegetables. They make me as happy as my colorful handknit socks -- and not a little proud, to be perfectly honest.
I hope you will forgive me for commenting here upon your latest Persephone Post, since comments (afaik) are not possible there. Your picture of the day is *Carl Ludwig Elias, Aged 7¼*, a charming portrait which hangs in Leicester Museum and Gallery. My pleasure is all the greater because (as I am sure must have also occurred to you) Sue Townsend, author of *The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13¾*, was a life-long Leicester girl. Thank you!
I think you are a little bit hard on those women who sewed. They have left something enduring behind them. Today they would probably be spending their time scrolling through social media. A better use of time?
Well, I panicked when I read the title of this post. I thought you were bidding us farewell, deciding that you'd had enough of your weekly posts. Thank goodness I was wrong! I love your posts so much, but I don't often comment, simply because I use the Substack app on my phone, and I can't bear writing anything more than the briefest message on its teeny-tiny keypad. So, this has prompted me to create a login on the laptop, and here I am tapping away with no swearing!
Kurt Vonnegut was absolutely right - as he so often is.
Very thankful that I live now and not in needlepoint heyday, as I would have been an Inadequate Woman. My sewing is what's known in the north of Scotland as "lang steek and pull hard". Recently I found my late mother's practical sewing examination pieces which she had to do in her primary teaching course in Aberdeen. Examples of buttonholes, shirt collars, and various fancy stitches, all date stamped "1947". Seems incredible that in a not so distant past this would have been taught to primary school children (well, the girls). In the Positive News Instagram this week I discovered the Loose Ends enterprise, which finishes the knitting projects of deceased people. What a lovely idea. Your picture of Catherine Dickens reminds me that I discovered on a visit to Edinburgh last week that she was a teenager when she lived at 19 Albany Street, in the New Town. I discovered this on an information board in the street, which was teeming with famous and enterprising people and visitors, including Mendelssohn. https://sites.google.com/site/albanystreetedinburgh/?fbclid=IwAR0RylFQHAL0JnRvEznB2FDLQi-hzoNeQj23kao_Am-xtWUbqN89V896x0w
While I make most of my clothes, there's a certain enduring delight in something you have made that is enjoyed every day.
My daughter wore the wedding dress I made for her once, but I will see that sofa cushion every day for many years - which is why I'm about to make myself a new dressing gown, which will be worn with pleasure every single day.
I think that perhaps Dr Greer forgets that art is in the eye of the beholder, and I have seen many many quilts that are works of art.
As much as Proust changed you from the inside and you took something away from the experience, so too does handwork for me. Not the least of which is sheer joy; it fills my heart and soul. I take away a sense of completeness and it contributes to my capacity to engage in the stuff of everyday life. I never see it as a waste of my time.
When I think of the time women (everyone?) spend on social media, I have to wonder what will be said of how we spend our leisure time? The results won't even be able to be locked away in attics.
What a great read. Thank you. I sew every day because I love sewing! Some of it is useful, some not but I do prefer the useful. xx
Oh, you have outdone yourself this Sunday! (--though I would rather you did *not* describe yourself as “too prosaic, conventional, and unimaginative”: it’s not true). Every link reveals a whole new world (apparently--I haven’t finished clicking through them all yet): as ever it’s a Sunday-morning-lying-in-bed education. However, I will never even *try* needlepoint, nor spinning, nor weaving--not because I lack imagination (etc), but because I have to make choices, and knitting is enough for me in that line. I read you to appreciate what I am missing (and to discover gems like the Bazaar painting!).
I suppose, like many other women, this 'exercise in futility' gives me huge pleasure, imaginatively working with yarn and fabric to produce something beautiful for my own enjoyment. It's telling that Kaffe Fasset and Richard McVetis are seen as artists and their work desirable, costly, collectable while most women are denigrated in some circles for creative domestic pursuits.
As previous contributors have pointed out, it 'wastes' no more time than watching TV or scrolling on a phone (usually looking at someone else's creations!).
As you so rightly reflect, it's our ability to choose how we fill our time which is important.
I come here as primarily a writer, though I loved needlework as a child and am making my way back to it. I think we might ask these questions of worth about any creative endeavor. I am finding power in giving time to pursuits that might seem frivolous (because impermanent, because they take so much time, because they are not obviously useful in some way) just because I can. Those same kinds of arguments are the reason I abandoned serious poetry writing; the work of most poets is not remembered after their life ends. Why do we make anything we make? Returning to needlework now (in my late 50's) can feel pointless; it takes so long to get good at anything, and it takes so long to produce something. Increasingly, for me, the product is not the point. The process is. Thank you for giving me so much good food for thought, and for the links to really interesting and provocative work. Even Greer's. :-)
What a wonderfully inspiring post for January, full of colour, art, wisdom and practical enthusiasm. Brightened my day - and maybe the week and more - as well as a reminder of bundles hiidden away in my sewing cupboard..