When I was a young, every summer I carefully planned my sewing project that I would make while at my grandmother’s for the weekend. Since I was tall at a very young age, buying clothes was always a nightmare, so my grandmother, a retired home economics teacher, taught me how to sew my own. I anticipated “the project” pouring over Butterick, Vogue (beyond my capabilities then), Simplicity and McCall pattern books. I made bathing suits and cover ups, peasant blouses (yes, I am dating myself), hot pants (seriously, that was what they were called, it had nothing to do with my moral character), dresses and pants. Going through the fabrics in the store was exhilarating, textures, colors and graphics appealed to me even then. Notions? Even more fun. To this day, my heart quickens when I see a bolt of fabric that catches my eye and I think of what I could make with it.
This mixed media/assemblage started with the piece of scrap wood. It appealed to me and as I was rifling through my stash, I spied the rusty pair of scissors and my mind connected to my grandmother. This piece is in honor of her. Thank you, Grandma, for igniting my senses and giving me skills that I use to this day.