Threads of Life

 

Easter dinner table a few years ago set on a vintage tablecloth from my mother-in-law. She didn't often use her table linens, and gave me quite a few of them. My own mother had similar tablecloths, but they have been long worn out by frequent use. 

Everywhere I look in my home there are textiles, from the carpet on the floor to the cushions on the couch, tea towels and napkins in the cupboard, sheets, quilts, and towels upstairs, and of course, the clothes I'm currently wearing. 

I recently finished reading Threads of Life: A History of the World Through the Eye of a Needle by Clare Hunter, and have been looking at the textiles in my home a bit differently ever since. 

This piece of threadwork, a bed canopy, was likely worked by Anne Boleyn, mother of
Queen Elizabeth I. Seen at Sudeley Castle in 2016. 

The book chronicles the story of textiles beginning with the Bayeux Tapestry, a piece of linen 70 metres (230 feet) long and 50 centimetres (20 inches) high that illustrates the Norman Conquest of England and the events leading up to it. Stitched by unknown hands not too long after the events, history is silent about the women who plied their needles, adding personal touches to the story, and making their voices heard. 

Thrifted damask linen napkins dyed with indigo.

I found it fascinating to learn how Mary, Queen of Scots, cousin to Elizabeth I, carefully chose her clothing at crucial moments in her lifetime to convey varying sentiments. For her execution she wore crimson brown, the colour of martyrdom in the Catholic Church. Such soft power is still used by the Royal Family today, reflected in wardrobe choices such as King Charles wearing his Canadian military medals several times in the past months. 

Personally, I love textiles of all sorts, looking at them, touching them, and working with them. In my sewing room there are stacks of fabrics that inspire me. I've not sewn much lately, but enjoy simple embroidery that transforms a piece of linen. In 1893 an unknown writer said,

 "The new embroidery is common in this respect to the oldest arts. It takes the everyday things in life, and by the simple individualistic process, seeks to make them beautiful as well as useful." 

(quoted from Studio magazine)

The idea of making useful things beautiful goes along with William Morris' words

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." 

I'm glad that for the most part I don't have to choose between useful and beautiful, for well-designed useful things have a beauty all their own. 

My husband's grandmother crocheted the tablecloth in the above photo, probably in the mid-1960s. The motifs are dense with fine stitches and it's something I treasure. I hope that I will pass this work of family art down to one of my own daughters, who will value it equally. 

From my mother I have handmade quilts, cross stitch pictures, and the memory of many items of clothing made throughout the years, such as our Easter outfits seen above. We are standing in front of our car by a motel where we stayed. And when I look at these photos, I see my mother sewing at the kitchen table in the evenings, listening to the radio after we children were put to bed. My father was a trucker and was gone often when I was very young. Sewing was a way not only for my mother to clothe her children, but an enjoyable way to while away the lonely evenings. 

I also find pleasure in a utilitarian stack of tea towels neatly ironed and folded, and in silky old damask linen napkins loosely folded and ready to place on the table. Crisp bedsheets and pillowcases make getting into bed delightful. I savour the softness of a towel pulled off the rack to dry my skin. 

Textiles in the world today are often thought of as disposable. The silks, wools, cottons, and linens of yesterday are often difficult to find, and expensive. But they are so much nicer to wear, look more luxurious, and are kinder to the environment. I wonder what historians of the future will think of our use of textiles. 

Do you have textiles you treasure? Pieces passed down from family members?