I Went to “Get Crafty” but I Got So Much More
November 5, 2020
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This blog entry is the second in our series, "My Most Incredible Experience(s) In Arts & Culture Spaces."
Written by Amy Emerson
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Ever since I was little, my mom has instilled in me a comfort in — and longing to — create.
She built a kid-sized art studio for my sister, Sophie, and I using a simple Playskool table and set of chairs, and adorned them with stacks of multicolored construction paper, basic glue and safety scissors, and a mixed assortment of crayons, markers, and colored pencils. Sophie and I could spend hours in that little nook in the basement that Mom created for us. We looked forward to jumping out of bed and starting our mornings by creating messy, miniature murals on paper after paper as our mom folded laundry and cared for our little brother.
Fast forward to 15+ years in the future (to 2020), and who was the first person I thought of to invite to the Museum’s “Get Crafty” event? None other than my mother. I drove to pick her up at her home and she came running to the car with her own coloring books, nail polish (a more portable, shimmery, and diverse form of paints, she says), and an enthusiasm that told me this was going to be a warm, cozy evening together.
We got to the Museum a little before the event started, and my mom and I set up camp. I’d brought along some collaging materials — bits and pieces of scenic views and gorgeous photos of textiles I’d discovered in old magazines. Bob Ross videos were playing on the projector screen. A station was available with coffee brewing, cups of wine, tea packets from The Spice Merchant, chilled beer, and water options. A long table was organized with all kinds of art supplies with everything from feathers and sequins to watercolor paint and duct tape. Not to mention, there was a gorgeous display in the center of the room with golden yellow drapery, an encased skull, a model ship, coins scattered about, vased flowers, and little details that added to the warmth of the atmosphere.
This was the first event (anywhere) that I had attended since the quarantine period back in March. As one of the Museum’s staff, I had no idea what kind of turnout we would have, but all I knew was that for me, I was grateful for the excuse to be artistic and creative for a few hours.
It felt odd at first — to be in the same room as complete strangers for the first time in I don’t know how long. (Granted, we were all socially-distancing, wearing masks, and there was plenty of space to spread out.) But as time unravelled, I was amazed at the experience that was unfolding around me.
The room started out with socially-distanced strangers, some of us slightly cautious (or perhaps all of us were). But gradually, it was as if I could feel any inkling of shyness melting down into warmth as the minutes passed. Any invisible walls corroded and stories were even exchanged, including one from a lady who was peacefully cross-stitching with her daughter.
The mother told me it was her daughter’s birthday that weekend, and that she had come all the way from California to be here to celebrate. The daughter, who was stitching away at a fun kitten-themed cross-stitching project, works out of town as well, so their trip to the Museum’s “Get Crafty” event was made special in celebration this birthday.
Naturally, my own mother and I were curious about how these ladies got started with their cross-stitching hobby. The mother piped up, telling us how she’d been intrigued enough by it to begin her own cross-stitching project as a young lady. Her father walked by her once as she stitched, noticing that her project was looking a little on the sloppy side, she explained. He asked something along the lines of, “You know there’s a more precise way to stitch, right?” to which his daughter thought to herself, “Oh yeah okay, like you know how to do it.” She swallowed her pride and handed off her project, sure that his hands would bring the needle to canvas with some hesitation. Instead, he began stitching… effortlessly guiding the needle and thread into precise shapes and lines.
“I couldn’t hardly believe it, but he really did know exactly what he was doing,” the woman said.
She went on to explain that her father had been one of ten children — a family spliced together from two that had started separately, but grew into one as a patterned quilt might. When the parents were working, the grandmother would keep all ten grandchildren busy. What could possibly hold the attention of ten grandkids, varying in ages, interests, and personalities, you might ask?
Learned skills. The grandmother would set all of the kids on a specific task of the day or week. All ten learned the art of sewing, stitching threaded letters into words, sewing buttons on shirts and ties on aprons. She taught them what it took to cook, working the children from the basic scraps of how to crack an egg into the creative molds of little chefs who could prepare a dinner for adults.
It was incredible to hear the origin story of cross-stitching in this particular family, and brought me even more joy to watch as this mother-daughter duo sat cross-stitching side by side at our event. By the very end of the night, the daughter even stitched the year “2020” in the right corner and her initials, “DGH,” on the left — completing her 3-month long cross-stitch project.
I loved this experience that occurred in our history Museum, and ironically this story doesn’t have anything to do with our collection of artifacts. It has nothing to do with the Civil War, or the burial rituals of Ancient Egypt. It couldn’t be further from the Eocene Epoch when the continents gradually drifted to their current locations. But it does have everything to do with history.
Without our space, without this building, without the pandemic, without our desperation of sharing how Arts & Culture organizations impact our lives, this event wouldn’t have existed. Without the existence of this event, we wouldn’t have ever gotten an inside view of a portion of this mother’s history, or her father’s.
As a non-profit organization that works to be a channel for storytelling — whether it be through exhibit spaces, or knowing and sharing the stories of the artifacts or people themselves — it brings us joy and purpose to know that stories between complete strangers can be exchanged in our space as well. One history can be passed along, impacting that of an entirely different one.
History is told and retold; unfolds and sometimes repeats. It’s a privilege to find myself on the receiving end of stories, and I hope I can do my part on this Museum’s team by sharing more to come.
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