Nanna Lives Here December 2013
“From the archive of Annies Workroom website 2013-2021”
I have a Nanna that I never did meet, she had passed away before I was born. There is a space that surrounds her, that quietly bids us not to ask too many questions, she had five children that included two sets of twins, and she suffered mental illness for as much of her life as I have known. My grandfather, a staunch man who was very deaf, spoke little and heard less, was a nice grandpa, gave me her old singer sewing machine for my 18th birthday. The drawers were still full of all the trinkets and odds and ends as if work had ceased many years ago abruptly.
My love of handmade and traditional womens work feeds on this, and helps me in-part to feel a little connected to the ones that never made it. I have held the laces in that draw dear to me, but now I think they should be used and they look just right on the dyeing I am doing. I also have an urge to start embroidering onto the scarves I am making, endlessly cross-stitching, the rhythm in the night, as my eyes get tire and my fingers become cramped. I wonder is this how the women passed felt, I choose to stitch, they had to, there were no other choices, you stitch or you don’t have clothes. Our world is full of abundance, there’s was full of meaningful work.
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