reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: sewing


by 1 Comment

so. to sew. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i used the old singer when i sewed the shutter-curtains for the nursery. i placed it on a piano bench and sat on the loveseat to sew. it was mama dear’s no-bells-no-whistles machine – the kind that is stored in a black case – and i was hoping that her seamstress skills would transfer to me as i stitched. i didn’t quite finish the curtains before our daughter arrived – a week earlier than expected.

i have another machine – a sears kenmore – from when i was about ten or twelve, i guess. it’s in a sewing cabinet – the machine stores down under the lid – and one can sit right at it to sew. i’ve sewn innumerable things on this machine. it doesn’t have bells and whistles either, so it’s a workhorse.

because i was dedicated to the art of sewing – at least back in the day – i’ve accumulated many patterns through the years, storing them carefully in a bin so that they would keep their tissue-pattern-integrity.

i just opened the bin and took them all out, laying them on the dining room table, organizing them to move them along. there are about 75 of them, many toddler patterns and craft patterns. the 80s and the 90s were craft-heavy times and i was right in there sewing bunnies and dolls, quilting pillows and piecing sweatshirt appliqués. the fabric store was an inspiring adventure limited only to your imagination. attending art and craft shows was glorious fun, a place to get new ideas and marvel at others’ craftiness.

it was quite late in the 90s when it occurred to me to show at these art and craft fairs as a musician. way different than concerts or even wholesale show marketing, i’d set up a booth with a keyboard and displays and play all day while simultaneously selling cds. the being-a-mom skill of talking while playing transferred easily from mom-ing to entrepreneur. providing music for the background of people – most notably, women – to shop with friends and linger over beautiful homemade objects was a joy and i sold thousands upon thousands of cds at these shows over the course of some years.

until, of course, the advent of writeable cds.

being able to rip a cd from another cd enabled the buying market to do-it-themselves and severely shrunk cd sales from independent artists.

and then came streaming, a death-blow to these same independent artists.

but i digress.

i wonder how many people sew now. i wonder if moms still make matching jumpers for their baby girls and themselves. i wonder if people are still sewing bunnies and dolls and pillows. with the bankruptcy of joann fabrics – a legend for those of us who devotedly bought fabric there – i wonder if imagination is sparked as brightly in small fabric departments of other craft-type stores; joann’s was packed with fabrics and knowledgeable store personnel who could answer most any question from aspiring seamstresses.

sewing is kind of like riding a bike. you think you’ve forgotten how to thread the machine – until you sit down in front of it and your hands automatically weave the thread in and out of tiny sprockets and around dials. you think you’ve forgotten the little tidbits of wisdom you’ve gleaned along the way as you lay out a pattern or cut or piece a few patterns together to craft your own iteration of something – and then it all comes rushing back as you touch the ever-familiar manila-colored tissue paper.

i thought i would just move all the patterns along. and then a few caught my eye. “i could make those overalls,” i thought, and “what an easy pj pattern” – and i was hooked.

maybe half a dozen patterns made the cut – to stay with my sewing supplies. the toddler patterns moved on – for other moms or for grandmas to joyfully create. the craft patterns will move on as well. i already have a yo-yo quilt in my future and who knows what i’ll do with all the sports t-shirts left behind by the girl and the boy. we’ll see.

the coolest part of it all – revisiting all these patterns – was remembering the fun challenge of a sewing project and the excitement of a newly-purchased bag of fabric, feeling my grandmother’s legacy surge through me, the expansive way creating creates more ideas for creating.

*****

LEGACY © 1995 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 3 Comments

the L box. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

mama dear repurposed gramps’ old wooden cigar boxes. she’d label them with a magic marker with a big Z or a big B on the front – which stood for zippers and buttons.

i have these old cigar boxes. The Z box now stores nespresso pods in our sunroom. the B box stores harmonicas, kazoos, egg shakers in my studio. the unlabeled corona cigar box is in the office and is loaded with business cards from days when my recording label was flourishing.

the zippers from the Z box are in with my sewing supplies.

and the buttons from the B box? there is a giant collection of buttons. tiny buttons, metal buttons, plastic buttons, wooden buttons, buttons with distinction, whimsical buttons, spare buttons in those tiny plastic bags along with a bit of matching colored thread – that used to come with every blazer, every shirt, every coat.

it is a direct connect to pass by these button-flowers – these fading daisies in the meadow – and think of mama dear, my grandmother, my sweet momma’s mom. she is the person who taught me how to sew and i simply cannot so much as thread a needle without thinking of her.

i found a letter from mama dear the other day. it was from early 1980. i was 20. in it she thanked me for a christmas gift i had given her and a card i had sent from a trip to visit my parents. no one knew at the time it would be her last holiday season. born in 1899, she was a feisty almost-81 with bright red hair and a penchant for gambling slot machines in vegas. in her letter she wrote, “i hope you are happy with your choice” referring to my staying in new york instead of going to florida with my parents as they retired.

at the time it wasn’t really a difficult choice. i was at the beginning stages of a composing/recording/performing career and retirement-central wasn’t the place to grow. so, yes, i was happy with my choice. until one day when that choice became dangerous and i fled all semblance of my budding career, leaving any feisty i had inherited from mama dear behind, devastatingly leaving all artistry buds behind for decades to come.

the button-flowers are charming. they punctuate the masses of goldenrod lighting up the meadows. and they make me think of my button collection.

i have no idea what i will do with all of those buttons. i suppose one day i will list them on marketplace and give them away to a seamstress or crafter who will make creative use of them. maybe i will tell them a little about mama dear, about how many of these buttons are vintage, about how they carry a spirit of feisty red-headed grandma in them.

or maybe i’ll just quietly gift them the collection and hold onto the feisty myself.

and every time i pass a button-daisy on the side of a trail i’ll check in – inside – and make sure it’s still there – the feisty – still growing, still challenging me, still repurposing into profound and important choices for the L box. Life.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

66 and 19. (david robinson)

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

black and white prayers. [two artists tuesday]

it is all in the intention.

our old door – leaning against the house on the back deck – is not high in the himalayas. it’s not at everest base camp or, for that matter, on any scaled summit. but, like the space in which our other prayer flags fly, our deck provides a place from which to release prayers and mantras into the wind, to hope for compassion, peace, strength, wisdom, and good will.

the cracked-paint white door leans against the white lapped vinyl siding of the house. walking sticks – mostly from mountain trails we have hiked – lean nearby.

our colorado prayer flags have faded and shredded to nearly invisible. i imagine many, many prayers blown far and wide, the wind pulling at the string on the northeast side of the house, a place of distinct breezes off the lake.

i decided to make our own. they do not have the words of prayers on them. they are not specific in a colorful palette. instead, they are black-and-white, save for one white-and-black flag. sewn of thin bandanas and seam tape, i was pretty excited to string them up.

and with them, as they are beginning to catch the breeze, as they begin to get tattered and worn and sunbleached, they will begin – just as the others – to send wishes of goodness and positive energy into the world.

we aren’t going to get all hung up about color or what is printed on the flags. for us, in these times, it’s all about the intention.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

if you’d like to help us keep these blogs and SMACK-DAB and our art going, please QR or click on this link. thank you. you have no idea how much it means to us to have your support. xoxoxo


by 1 Comment

rag rugs and quilts and wood floors. [k.s. friday]

mama dear made rag rugs. i still have a few of them. for a long time, a rag rug served as a faux tablecloth on the kitchen table. eventually, after years of washings, the stitches loosened up and i tucked it carefully into the drawer of a cupboard in the dining room.

my grandmother also made yoyo quilts. she took outgrown clothing and bits of leftover fabric bolts and cut circles from them. sewing a running stitch along the perimeter she pulled and it gathered into a rosette-round. hundreds of rosettes later, even thousands, she stitched them together into quilts full of visceral memories of moments spent in party dresses or aprons or simple a-lines. yoyo quilts sell on etsy for a few hundred dollars, but i would never sell mine.

some day i’d like to make a yoyo quilt. i had envisioned my children cherishing one made from clothing they wore as little ones, but i realize that their level of thready is nowhere near mine, so i will have to make the quilt for myself. i have saved their clothing to do just that – tiny overalls, sweet sundresses, toddler leggings, mini blue jeans, printed onesies and receiving blankets – for a yoyo or even for a traditional quilt, both projects which seem like mindfulness exercises even with the tedious work needed to create them. someday.

we walked into the door of the farmhouse. it was our second time there. i remembered it as homey and just perfect for what we needed – as a gathering space for the family, the rest of whom were staying in a hotel. i remembered the blue walls, the chalkboard cabinet doors with messages, the photographs. i remembered the cheer.

but i had forgotten about the rag rugs. instant bonding.

in early morning, the sun rose past the horizon, peeked under the porchroof, around the adirondack chairs and the swinging platform, past the sleeping gracie-cat and up and over the fern perched on the rusty-red outside cellar doors.

but at just the right time, in later afternoon, it curled around the silo and the barn out on the west side, streamed in through the screen door and bathed the old wood floor and the rag rug in light. like a spotlight on something simply beautiful, it called out to be noticed.

i wonder how hard it is to make a rag rug. mama dear never showed me how she made them. i suppose i could take them out of the upstairs closet where they linger, waiting for the right chance to use them again. maybe i could figure it out. it can’t be too very difficult to discern the process. but my grandmother was a talented seamstress and i remember mama dear sewing and sewing, her hands moving quickly – at her singer or with needle and thread – and talking, talking, talking as she sewed. the only time she didn’t speak was when she would (don’t try this at home) store pins pursed between her lips. i thought that straight pins needed ‘spittin’ on’ in order to use them. it wasn’t for a few years until i learned that my grandmother was not spitting on the pins before she used them. perception – as a child – is a funny thing. what i did understand was how much she made things for all of us. no spit needed, just lots of love.

rag rugs and quilts and wood floors. they go straight to my heart.

*****

WHERE I’M FROM ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

listen on iHEART RADIO

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

qr code or this link to the “coffee tip jar” if you would like to support our content creation xoxo


by Leave a comment

oopsies! [flawed cartoon wednesday]

sewing oopsies jpg

OOPSIES product BOX BAR copy

mama dear (my grandmother) used to sew with her lips pursed, straight pins held between them for quick access.  as a little kid, i thought that you had to spit on pins in order to sew; as i grew up i realized that this was a falsehood (i’m sure you are thinking, “wow. what an enlightenment!”)

mama dear was the person who taught me how to sew.  with an old-fashioned singer, a red pincushion, a blue sewing box and good sewing scissors, she set me on a course of many projects through my life…outfits in the 70s, curtains and shutter screens for the nursery, jumpers that matched The Girl’s when she was little in the 90s, pillows and stuffed animals, mending jobs, craft projects.  my sewing machine is set up again, adjacent to d’s studio where he says he likes to hear me talk to myself or hum as i sew, and i love spending time at my machine, dreaming up things to make.

one thing i am proud of these days – that hanging around me (sewing or doing whatever i am doing) david has picked up some of the vernacular that comes out of my mouth….like “oopsies!!!”

SEWING OOPSIES products

OOPSIES products

FLAWED CARTOON WEDNESDAY – ON OUR SITE

read DAVID’S thoughts on this FLAWED CARTOON WEDNESDAY

sewing oopsies & oopsies ©️ 2016 & 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood