December tends to get away from me.
I’ve learned to make peace with the fact that studio time will be limited considering all the extras that go hand-in-hand with this particular month. But I still try to squeeze in time around the edges for making art .
On December 1st I began a new little house, wanting to get just one more under my belt before year’s end. I also figured it would be something of an ace up my sleeve for the busy weeks ahead, knowing there would be times when sitting quietly to stitch would get me into a calmer headspace.
The sticking point with this particular piece has been the open areas where the silk didn’t absorb any dye because it couldn’t seep through the many-layered folds. Without time to do anything but forge ahead, I tried to position the blank areas so as to play off the steep incline of the roof. But that still wasn’t enough – the empty spaces seemed to hang in mid-air like a half-finished sentence.
Thanks to a dog-walk epiphany after reading an article on Jane Perkins’ art, I decided to dig into a collection of white buttons that has followed me around for the past 35+ years. Their glossy texture and variety of sizes proved a means toward transforming the undyed emptiness into areas that could hold their own against, and in alliance with, the bold shibori patterns. Not unlike a Japanese garden, they provide a rest for the eye that includes an element of visual interest.
When I was first married, my mother gave me a baggie filled with white shirt buttons so that I would never be without when I needed a replacement for one of my husband’s work shirts. It was a sweet gesture and so “of an era”. And even though at the time the idea may have raised my feminist hackles a tiny bit, I recognized it then, and certainly now, as an offering that was a perfect expression of my mother’s hallmark thoughtfulness, practicality, and organizational skills.
And while I didn’t use many of the buttons for their intended purpose, I’ve kept the bag through all our many moves, and have continued to add to it ever since.
Not only has this turned out to be a satisfactory solution for making this little piece whole, the process has also contributed to making me feel a bit more whole during a holiday season when for the first time ever, like so many other people, my husband and I can’t be with family. It brings me comfort to work with these little white discs of shell and plastic, to be blanketed in my mother’s thoughtfulness (this will be our 9th Christmas without her), and to think of this piece as a holiday gift she is sharing across time and space.
Wishing you a peaceful holiday…
Very creative solution, Betsy. Works really well. I appreciated hearing about your button collection from your MOM. I have so many little things around the house that remind me of my mother, friends, relatives, etc. I guess I’m pretty sentimental. I’m actually making aprons and pot holders for my DIL’s in hopes that they will be a remembrance of me in the future.I Just hope they don’t say, “Why does she keep give\ing me these stupid round potholders.” !! I’ve used these potholders for 50 years. My husband’s grandmother used to make hundred’s of them every summer to take back to her church for the Baazar. I think I still have one of the original ones she gave me. So it’s a tradition which means it’s OK to be sentimental about it.
One can NEVER have too many pot holders – and the homemade ones are far superior to anything you can buy in a store. I’m very grateful my mom gave me so many over the years b/c hers are the best! Your DILs are very lucky!
Perfect! Thank you. We too miss seeing you.
Thanks John – hopefully it won’t be (that much) longer. Hugs to you both!
A lovely solution and one you know I would enjoy using such wonderful tokens of history from our mom’s. Dianne
It’s great, isn’t it, to be able to breathe new life into something that may not have held much significance originally. There are positives to coming from a family of savers!
What a great solution to that problem of the large blank areas in your little house’s veneer. It really worked…filled the space, but quietly, so that the darker areas still shine forth, but now there’s also strong interest in the “blank” areas. Clever you! I love this little house! And the best part of this story is hearing about your mom’s loving and very practical gift to you when you married. This is a story that is likely to be shared out into the world now, which in a way keeps your mother’s memory alive for a long time to come. Such a small gesture on her part, but with such profound results!
Thanks Marya – and you’re right, one never knows how long a thread may trail from the simplest gesture. Something to think about as we move through the world.
The button house in the trees is just perfect.
Our holidays will be similar to yours but enjoy them anyway
Judy
We’re just concentrating on the positives and working to create our own little cozy holiday bubble. And very grateful for Zoom! Thanks for the kind words – looking forward to catching up with you! Maybe after the new year?
I love this piece so much! this house.. the buttons add this shimmer, like snowy morning in sunshine or snow in moonlight… And I love our “Momorabelia”… I’m surrounded by it here in my house, happily baking cookies to be with Dad a little bit, and using Mom’s cookie cutters and recipes… Also vintage aprons have been adding to the fond memories this year especially.
Love to you & Dan.. happy winter! xo
Thanks Liz – so nice to hear from you! This really did become a winter piece (the title says it all). I bet you’ve been baking up a storm, & I know your dad is with you in spirit every step of the way. Sending love & good wishes to you 2. What a beautiful sight the snow was today! xoxo
You have met your unexpected design challenge beautifully! I liked the house before the addition of the buttons, but must say they add so much interest and visual texture. Wish I could see it in person in all it textural and shimmering glory.
All through my childhood when my mother needed a button she would pull out the prettiest beaded zipper bag (C. 1920’s and her teen years) filled to the brim with buttons of varying sizes and styles. I used to love playing with the buttons and running my hands over the beadwork. I was thrilled when she passed that bag to me especially as she knew how much it meant to me. With your encouragement, I now feel a need to create something special and include her buttons to honor her memory and all the wonderful moments we shared during her lifetime. Thank you Betsy for your (as usual) thoughtful and inspiring commentary which this week spoke directly to me. Have a wonderful holiday season.
You are always so encouraging Diane – I’m glad you connected with this post. I’ll look forward to seeing what emerges from your studio in the months ahead as you honor your mom. Happy holidays to you as well – it’s been great to see your face and work via Zoom! Take care.
I love the use of the buttons and the added texture. I’m sure I have many buttons to add to your collection – those work shirts come with extra buttons!
I think you’ll be more than happy to cut all the buttons off those shirts to add to my stash when retirement day comes! xo
What a beautiful piece! I love the name, so appropriate to this time of year (for those who share a love of this particular season change) and this time. We are all buttoned up against the external cold winds, looking for a breath of fresh air…literally and figuratively. Your houses are some of my favorites and this one might be right at the top. These really speak to me and showcase, at least to me, your inner shining and thoughtful soul. You are amazing…always. Wishes for a peaceful holiday my friend…
Your notes are always so uplifting – I’m grateful and humbled. Glad you picked up on the title…I was trying to connect it with this time of the year since the piece itself came out so winter-y. Merry Christmas!