FabMo Textile Art Boutique

Last October I visited FabMo Textile Art Boutique for the first time, and was greatly impressed by the creativity evident everywhere. The participating artists, who happened to be mostly women, used fabric in very imaginative ways, creating numerous beautiful commodities. I remember walking around mesmerized. I wished I could have bought something at each and every booth, and left with an array of unique handmade gifts for my family. It did not occur to me then that only a year later I will join the ranks of displaying artists, but this is exactly what happened!

This past weekend I had the pleasure of setting up my own stall at the Boutique. While the perspective from the other side of the booth table was slightly different, one thing hadn’t changed: I was STILL awed by the amazing talent and imagination surrounding me. Close to fifty artists exhibited this year, making every conceivable fabric product: clothing, jewelry, accessories, decorations, toys and, of course, bags and purses, to name some. Yet, even when making the same type of item, different artists put their own twist on the results. There were many handbag booths, for example, but each had its own, unique style.

Here is but a tiny taste of the diversity:

Carol Cruise’s booth was full of adorable stuffed animals, which she calls Carol’s Zoo. When passing by her display I had to suppress the urge to snap them all:

At the stall of Rodi Ludlum of Featherweight Fabric Pottery, I saw something I have never seen before: vases and bowls made of fabric!

Judith Content’s booth, across the aisle from mine,  was bursting with color and warmth. Judith makes pin cushions in ceramic bowls, and also colorful necklaces made of buttons she paints herself:

The latter, especially, were so deliciously colorful that they stopped many visitors in their track.

As a shopper last year I was oblivious to the efforts that go into preparing a show of this kind. As a vendor I now know of--and appreciated!--the many months of planning and preparations, the marketing efforts and the numerous hours put in by Marty and Holly, the two organizers, as well as by many other wonderful individuals, all volunteers. I also know first-hand what it takes to prepare inventory for such a fair, and as a result I appreciated many fold the months of intense work put in by all forty-something craftspeople. These combined efforts paid off, for everything was very well thought of, well organized, well stocked and beautifully displayed, making this a pleasant experience for vendors and shoppers alike.

I enjoyed chatting with common-minded individuals on both sides of my stall. But the thing that really stood out for me was the creativity displayed on the other side of the booth table as well. Many of the visitors who came to browse were fabric-lovers themselves, artists, quilters, sewers and the like. The warm sense of support and camaraderie both among participating artists and between artists and visitors was truly heartwarming!

When Buying Art Can Change the World

A few weeks ago my eldest daughter, a couple of friends and I were walking back home from a crafts fair in our neighborhood. That day I went to the fair twice. The first time, in the morning, was with my second daughter, who happily spent the Fair Budget I gave her on a nice pair of earrings. I returned again in the afternoon with our friends and my eldest child, to give her, too, a chance to find something. We enjoyed the walk, the browsing, the inspiration brought about by exploding creativity, and also the festive atmosphere and the crowds. But my daughter couldn’t find anything she really wanted, and so we left the fair and started walking back home empty-handed.

A couple of blocks from our house I noticed from the corner of my eye a little booth in one of the front yards. A homemade sign announced “Nail Art” in big, lopsided letters. A child-sized table stood diagonally, and behind it sat a young boy, about nine or ten years old. Deeply engaged  in conversation, I didn’t pay the booth much attention. I kept walking, wishing to get home and share a cup of coffee with our friends.

We walked another half block when my daughter suddenly stopped. “We should go back to that booth,” she said. “That boy looked so sad. We really should buy something from him.” I hesitated. We already spent a lot of time at the fair. I was looking forward to my coffee, and our friends, an elderly couple, looked like they had had enough walking for the day. But my daughter, kindness incarnate, insisted. “Remember how I felt when I had a booth?” she asked, referring to a time, only a couple of short years earlier but feeling oh-so-long-ago, when she, on exactly such a fair weekend, set a similar booth in our own front yard. I did remember.

So all four of us turned around and returned to the booth. I asked the boy how much his paintings cost, expecting him to announce a small sum, similar to what my daughter asked for her creations two years before. When he came up with what amounted to ten times that, I was taken aback. Our friends were aghast. But my angel-of-a-daughter wasn’t deterred. “Oh, come on mom, buy one,” she said. “Use the money you promised me for the fair.” And so I did. My daughter chose a painting of a rainbow-colored heart and I handed the money.

The boy stared at the bills in disbelief. It was obvious that he did not expect to get what he asked for. We were probably his first customers, too. After a second, an expression of pure joy washed over his face. His mother, quietly protecting him from the porch, rushed out to thank us.

Now my daughter has a rainbow-heart painting hanging in her room. Whenever I pass by it I can’t help but simile. I probably read into the piece more than the artist had intended, but what I see is cheerfulness, hope, innocence, love and  inclusiveness--all elements we badly need in these times of ugliness and divisiveness.

Whenever I see the painting I think of that boy and of his mother. I hope that by buying it we made a difference. Perhaps we taught the boy that expressing creativity is worthwhile; that overcoming hesitation, nervousness and fear pays off. Maybe we showed him that taking risks is OK, that aiming high might lead to unexpected results, and that he should never sell himself short. Hopefully we helped him realize that working hard pays and that earning one's own money based on hard work feels good. Perhaps the experience will help him grow up into an adult who isn't afraid to work hard, take risks, and later contribute back to society. Hopefully our gesture also demonstrated to his mother, as I was reaffirmed two years before, that community is indeed important; that it really does take a village to raise a child; and that even as strangers we are all connected in an unseen web of humanity, and are willing to support each other just because.

Equally important, the money I spent that day bought my daughter and me a lot more than just a small, pretty painting made of wood, nails and paint. It bought us the satisfaction of seeing otherwise-discarded materials turned into something beautiful. It bought us the great delight that comes with supporting the efforts of another human being. It gave us the enormous bonus of seeing joy and happiness on other people’s faces, hence allowing us to feel the same way ourselves--the expressions on the faces of both the boy and his mother were truly priceless! That money also bought us the contentment that comes with investing in the future: the future of one boy, his community, and perhaps the world. For who knows what investing in one child, any child, might bring? Somehow, it might change the world one day, in big ways or small. It might even contribute something to making our society kind again. I call that money well spent.

Reflecting Back on a Year of Creativity

I find it appropriate, on the week of the Jewish Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur)--a time when we are supposed to contemplate our deeds and misdeeds over the past year and to consider how to make ourselves better in the year ahead--to look back upon my own year of creativity and take account of what I have achieved so far and of what I have yet to accomplish.

A year ago this week I took a small pile of rescued upholstery samples and laboriously turned them into a messenger bag. I had never made a bag before, and didn’t really know what I was doing. I have been quilting on and off for about a decade, and knew well how to work with thin, fine quilting cottons. But handling thick upholstery fabrics was a different matter altogether.

That first bag took hours and hours to make, and broke at least two of my sewing machine needles. When I wanted to attach the flap to the body of the bag, I realized to my horror that the accumulated thickness of the fabrics couldn’t fit under my machine foot. I had to sew it on by hand, something that took forever and was quite painful (pushing a needle through a thick layer of heavy fabrics isn’t an easy thing to do!). I remember my amazement when the bag was finally born (those of you sewing bags know what I’m talking about!) and actually looked like a real bag! It was a magical moment that made me proud.

Yet, at that time it never occurred to me that I will be spending the next year in a bag-sewing frenzy. This took another week or two, during which my second daughter excitedly claimed my bag for herself and her sister requested one of her own, driving me to sew yet another purse and come down with a sever case of bag bug.

Since then, by trial and error, I learned an entire new set of technical skills. I figured out how to attach a flap in a way that my machine can handle. I learned which needles to use for upholstery fabrics, so that they won’t break every few minutes. I learned how to sew zippers in different ways, how to insert a variety of closures, how to attach diverse kinds of straps and handles, and how to hammer rivets so that they hold fast. I experimented with different bag patterns, making not only messenger bags but also totes, slings and shoulder bags of assorted kinds. I played with, and greatly enjoyed, making other fabric products as well, such as journal covers, i-pad covers, zip pouches, bookmarks and even a phone case.

Most of the things I made came out to my liking, others not so much. A handful ended up being total failures and got tossed. But each project taught me something new, sharpened my tastes, or allowed me to improve my skills. I had a lot of fun this year going over fabrics, choosing colors and patterns, matching different pieces together, designing, cutting, sewing and just plain creating beautiful things. The fact that I was mostly using rescued materials and keeping volume out of landfills was a nice, feel-good bonus that supported my way of life and everything I believe in.

Overall, I sewed more than two hundred items, big and small. I gave many of them away as gifts to family members, friends and teachers, or as donations to good causes. Being able to give things I made rather than store-bought items was a deeply satisfying experience.

In the coming year I would like to try new products, play with new combinations, and maybe use my fabrics to create more art of the non-utilitarian kind. I have many ideas I’m really excited about, and just need to find the time to try them out. I also hope to continue improving my professional skills, and to learn new techniques that will keep this adventure as exciting as it has been so far.

I have been making art my whole life, but never dabbled with the craft of selling it. This year, for the first time in my life, I participated in a couple of crafts fairs, and began learning how to sell my work. I also started learning about approaching stores, about the difference between wholesale and consignment. I made my first foray into social media, opening a Facebook account, an Etsy store and starting this blog. All this opened up a grand new world of which I knew nothing about, and of which I still have a lot to learn. Going forward, I will need to keep deepening my knowledge in all of the above. Making art is great fun, but seeing people use it is even more gratifying!

My sewing ardor brought about many changes that transformed not only my life but also that of my entire family. Our guest room, for example, previously used as a music room or as a quiet place to read when no guests were present, transformed over the last year into a crowded, messy workshop. It now displays new cabinets packed to the brink with an assortment of fabrics, boxes of notions, and a selection of webbing rolls. Leather straps and handles are hanging on the door. Piles of already-matched fabrics, the purpose of which no one but me knows, are scattered on the floor, waiting to be sewn into all kinds of pretty items. The room is currently off-limits to everyone but myself... I would like to say that keeping it neat would be a noble goal for next year, but knowing myself this will not be an achievable goal…

Lastly, I am still struggling to find the right balance between wanting to sew at all times and doing all the other things that need to be done. My garden, which I love dearly, is quite neglected at this time. The family’s laundry service is not what it used to be, and our dinners are not always what I would like them to be. I would also like to find more time to exercise, see friends, hang out with the kids and so on. But I guess all of this is a constant work in progress, something I will just have to keep working on and adjusting as time goes!

Autumn Sewing

The official beginning of fall came and went amidst mid-summer temperatures. True, some shifts were already in the air, like the subtle yellowing of light or the gradual lengthening of shadows. But the weather still called for shorts and tank tops, and the large majority of trees remained stubbornly green.

To me, fall begins on the day in which I find myself looking for my slippers--a furry, chunky pair in light pink, which I would never have picked for myself (light pink being amongst my least-favorite colors), but which I inherited from my younger daughter a year ago, after we realized that--YAIKES!!--her feet had outgrown mine. Color notwithstanding, my slippers are pure softness and warmness and feet-happiness, the best possible companions for cold winter days. I found myself desperately looking for them (and for a jacket!) earlier this week, when early-morning temperatures suddenly plummeted. Fall, it seems, has finally arrived in California.

It is true that whimsical temperatures keep the trees confused. While the mornings and evenings are getting noticeably cold, mid-day temperatures fluctuate drastically. The forecast for today, for example, is 85 degrees, with tomorrow being even warmer. Only a handfull of leaves on my backyard Maple tree show early signs of turning. All the other trees are still clinging to their summer attire.

But I already went into full-blown autumn-mode, complete with pumpkin-pie cravings, gourd decorating, and--how not?--fall-color sewing! Earlier this week I happily dug into my fabric piles, picking autumn-feeling pieces and drowning myself in a jumble of deep maroons, wine-reds, mustard yellows and browns, all in rich, delicious textures. I spent a couple of fun days matching different pieces together, and playing around with various combinations. I finally settled on the following six, my upcoming fall collection:

I proceeded to cut the fabrics for all six fall purses, linings and pockets included. My hope is to complete all six by the end of next week, in time for my October 22 crafts fair. Yesterday, after looking at my planner and realizing how little time I have left, I decided to skip exercise and spent the entire day sewing instead. The result: my first two autumn bags, still awaiting their straps (which I plan to attach after all six are sewn):