My crafting origins go back to my mom. Although I love crocheting, knitting, and cross-stitching, and she’s a painter and a writer and loves to work with stained glass, she taught me at a very young age that art was worthwhile, and creativity was something to latch on to.
I was eight or nine, and we were living in a three bedroom condominium in Virginia. Sandwiched between two floors, we could hear our upstairs neighbors moving their furniture around constantly (of course, the fact that they moved their furniture around so frequently didn’t bother my eight-year-old mind so much as the nuisance of thunder rumbling from our ceiling.) Living there was a far cry from the two story house with an imagination-inducing backyard where we lived before this. It was just another shake of salt into my wounds following my parents’ divorce and the upheaval of my life.
I remember walking into my mom’s bedroom where she had her drafting table. Seated before it, she had a huge sheet of filmy, fragile tracing paper draped at her fingertips, and beginning in one corner, she was writing line after line of words, filling up these huge floppy sheets of paper. They were stories about two children who went on adventures. I would find these sheets of tracing paper rolled up and stacked in the corner – like maps tucked away for future quests. The thought that these strings of words became imagination captured on paper, that you could ride these thought-created images into an alternate world, sent my mind reeling. I could use my own powers of creativity to escape, or build a new world. The thought of escapism was extremely appealing to me.
In school, creativity wasn’t really encouraged, so much as forcefully used as a tool to complete specific tasks and reach certain expectations. (My middle school did an “invention” unit where we all had to come up with useable creations and make a model and presentation of it. I’m sorry, but I’ve never invented anything in my life! If we were all inventors, this world would be a very different place.) It was my mom who showed me that creativity was a gift, not a torture device – a gift that could be snatched up anywhere, at any time, and used to create imaginary places on paper, or tangible objects you could hold in your hand.
Before I was born, my mom knitted and crocheted, and after she lapsed at these crafts, she kept her stash. It survived moves, and changed lives, and proved instrumental in my development as a crafter. I don’t know why or how I gravitated towards the art of crocheting. I was twelve, and I had always enjoyed crafts in one form or another, from painting Christmas ornaments to crafting lanyards and friendship bracelets. I was at a craft store, browsing their cross-stitch and yarn aisles while my mom picked out some art supplies, and I decided I was going to try my hand at crocheting. I picked up a book called The Harmony Guide to Crochet Stitches, took out my mom’s old yarn stash, and began making chains, single crochet stitches. Over and over and over again. Through trial and error and a lot of persistence I trouble-shooted why my strips of fabric were tapering off or getting wider and discovered why some stitches were looser or tighter than others. Soon I was making granny squares, and making purses for my friends. (Not that soon; I think it took me a couple of years before I really made anything worthwhile and felt comfortable giving anything as gifts.) I made a ripple blanket for my grandmother, a huge multi-colored squares blanket for my stepmom, and several kinds of blankets for my mom and sister.
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| (beautiful blanket from my shop!) |
I think crocheting stayed with me through high school, my first year of college, working full-time, and having a baby, because it was so incredibly cathartic. I could sit in front of the TV and create something with my own two hands. I couldn’t wait to finish one project so that I could start the next.
Designing didn’t come into play at first. I was completely satisfied creating blankets and playing with color. I had tried creating a tank top when I was in high school using red string and single crochet stitches, but I never wore it. I also made several hats – a few I did wear, but most I didn’t. Living in Phoenix, hats aren’t generally a necessity, even during our coldest mornings, and I wasn’t known for wearing hats just because.
Ultimately, I feel that designing is extremely uplifting. When I’m crocheting or knitting one of my designs, not only am I creating a tangible object, but I created the idea of it, too. It’s like a piece of me in each stitch, and it is addicting and fulfilling all at the same time;-) I thank God every day for this gift, because I know that my inspiration comes from Him, and Handmade Baby Love wouldn’t be doing half as well as it is if I’d taken any other path.
