One adorable stitched cloth: check!
This was a pleasure to make and to finish, despite its five-month hiatus.
The closer I came to finishing, the more aware I became of the pleasure of working on it. I’ve never done this kind of stitching before, and after I became accustomed to it, I found it so relaxing—this sounds so cliché—so soothing and meditative—that the stitching seemed to fly by, despite its time-consuming nature.
There’s something about the pop-pop-pop-pop-pop of the needle moving through the fabric, the whhhhhh of the thread vibrating past the layers, the satisfying repetition of motions, the quiet growth of line after line of pattern.
There is an implied peace in the setting—woman in room alone, stitching on cloth—that is perhaps a cultural generalization, but is nevertheless a truth.
And then there is, of course, for me, the tactility of the situation. The heaviness of my silver thimble* weighting my fingertip, the floury surface of cotton across my hands, the clockwork reverse of the needle manipulated under and over the work, the friction and drag as I pull thread through layers.
Just typing this up I am in a state. I am back there, I am stitching. It looks like I am sitting, doing almost nothing. But I am flying inside.
This post just went somewhere totally unexpected. I suppose that is the beauty of trying to share these experiences with you. It feels like I’ve nailed this one.
And outside of that state, outside of the making, I’m really, really happy with this little cloth. It’s not so much beautiful, as scrumptious.
It’s so highly textural in its own self. The stitches create a rumpling effect that I adore petting. The binding is stiffer, smoother, a textural contrast, both of a visual and tactile sort. It almost functions metaphorically, as a border, a sign this is finished, that it’s ok to grab it, smoosh it, pet it, use it.
Wow. I didn’t know I had it in me to dive this deep into my head for a description of why I love this little piece.
I’ll definitely be riffing on this little cloth in the future, with hand dyed cloth and thread, and my lovely old threads from the Depot.
*Urban Ore, $1