a sentimental journey, looking to the past, living in the present
|a grey day, after glorious sunshine yesterday back to the dreary drab, we keep on walking
here & now
linen, Singer No.66 machine stitched
no idea exactly what it is
a table cloth
I found this pack in a cupboard in my mum's study.
A collection of random photographs from 1973 of me in one of my bedrooms, I alternated between the smallest and the largest on the top floor; these were taken in the larger of the two (before I moved to the attic in the garden house, aptly named The White House, for my last year in high school, my last year at home in fact, but that's another story)
One of my many collections: the dolls in their corner where they had their own beds and several sets of clothes and toys to play with.
I remember I felt a great responsibility for their well being.
Me on the left with my sister lying in my bed, perhaps she was pretending to be a patient and I was taking care of her.
Part of the dollhouse in my cupboard, there was more on the book shelves to the right but I don't have a photo of that just now. The dollhouse was a big part of my life, even then.
It would seem I started collecting, reorganizing and building dollhouses at an early age; in 1973 I was 10 years old.
I'm almost sure my mother took these pictures.
In amongst the black&whites a colour image; 1976 Hellerup Denmark, me cartwheeling in the garden of my mum's childhood home, where her twin brother continued to live until he died at the age of 63 in 1997, the house was then sold.
a leap forward in time and into town yesterday
I must have passed this shop countless times over the 23 years since we live in one of the villages close to town. Up until yesterday upon entering The Crazy Quilt for the first time, I had not properly registered it was a shop.
In the shop window is a doll house which I have of course noticed before and I have often admired it's contents, but I have somehow managed to always miss the opening hours on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, for surely I would have wanted to enter...
I violated my own rules and went ahead and bought some samples, throwing my financial caution to the wind, telling myself I would be able to produce equally beautiful, highly salable pieces with the aid of such exquisite cloth. I bravely restricted myself to buying just these Italian scissors, three bits of scrumptious cotton and one very necessary reel of Guterman beige for the Singer. Two of the fabrics are genuine batik from Indonesia if I remember correctly. As I was mesmerized by the myriad of gorgeous fabrics from all over the world I could barely listen to the kind proprietor, who is a fountain of knowledge and divulged a multitude of facts on the fabrics themselves as well as on the many different types of thread one can use for quilting, sewing by hand and on the machine.
It suddenly dawned on me 1. how little I actually know about threads and whatnot and 2. how complacent and set in my ways I have become. Things have got to change I say to self!
The shop hosts so-called 'quiltbees' on the Wednesday mornings of the uneven weeks, I think I will have to give it a go.
Another black dog accompanied by two friendly birds, I try and make them regularly, alas due to lack of discipline I do not get to paint one every day. This too must change.
The text in the photo below 'please admit one elephant' is not mine, it belongs to the artist Victor IV....this again is another story worthy of at least one post dedicated entirely to him.
I have been hand sewing these small patchwork squares with no real idea of what I intended to do with them. I simply enjoy having something to do in the evenings when I sit next to the husband on the couch whilst he watches football.....
Now that there are four I am considering making a large quilt again. This time I have the Singer to help me along with the longer in-between strips and also for experiments with the actual quilting, as I find that part tedious at times and do not enjoy using the hoop, which I cannot do without as I tend to then sew too tightly and warp the entire cloth.
Tada, these are my small challenges which I realise pale into utter insignificance in comparison to f.e. the Corona shut-down of an entire country, or elections overseas, but they keep me sane and steer me away from worrying too much about our aging parents who require loads of attention from us kids in their big house down south. Things are forever sliding and I will be there this Sunday, after having attended a party with my beloved husband on Saturday.
Life goes on