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When I was about four, I remember being excited about an upcoming visit to my grandparent's house. No matter where they lived, we would always visit them. My grandmother was the most stylish and chic woman I have ever known. She was a little shorter than me and she had a fire in her that shone like a blinding light.
This particular visit was personally important, because my grandmother had promised to teach me how to knit. I had my wool and needles ready - a pair of golden, anodized needles I think. We sat huddled on the velour lounge, her on one side and my mother on the other. She showed me how to cast on and how to click away with needles, winding the wool as I went.
Magically, something that resembled a fabric appeared. Stitch after stitch, row after row. Persevering through countless dropped-stitch rescues, untangling of tangles and navigating the tricky terrain of wool changes, I ended up with something that very much resembled a scarf (similar to that worn by Dr Who as portrayed by Tom Baker circa 1974.)
My mother has always knitted, sewn, decorated cakes and generally created amazing things and I wanted to be just like her. My mother, along with my grandmother handed me down many things over the years...but this love of making, this desire to be industrious, to create, to build, to invent, to reinvent surely must be one of their greatest gifts.
My mother taught me many skills and techniques for making things, but today my memories of my grandmother linger with me. Over the years she taught me sewing with a machine. She taught me embroidery. She taught me to learn from the mistakes.
So, after thinking about these small but significant beginnings to my life of making, I can't help but ask the question...who taught you?
