Mementos

I've been back a week, and in that time I've done so much careful handwashing, my hands now feel like sandpaper. But I'm pleased I've had overall good results, because usually I'm more reckless and end up ruining stuff.

First off, clothes; it never ceases to amaze Sister and me how much Mom has/had, even in her tiny nursing home room; and I mean a tiny, tiny room with one wardrobe too small even for me. Because of her mobility issues in the last five years, in spite of my sister's monitoring and targetted laundry scheme which included dry cleaning, handwashing by her, gentle cycle on her machine, regular nursing home laundry service, some items had not been worn in years but not removed, some worn but not laundered/repaired, while others looked dejected from wear for a generational clotheshorse like Mom. There was just so much. Sister didn't want any, and I couldn't contemplate a heavy luggage, so all went into fabric recycling, except a yellow raincoat which was Mom's last signature garment. (And a pair of PJs I needed right away because what I packed was too warm.)

It's synthetic, dry clean only. I found a microfiber cloth I used for some years, didn't know how to dispose of after learning how evil they are, and stuck in the general "household cleaning" box. Gentle rubbing with the moistened cloth took care of faded grime down the front and on one sleeve; I couldn't help noticing the patterns and placements attested to her many falls before becoming wheelchair-bound in late 2020.

There were also a few small and colorful woven pieces she made, which I packed when she moved into the nursing home, the most important of which I wrote about in the last post. Ones I selected were not necessarily her "best", but I brought home all of them, because I was aware there is no more Mom pieces forthcoming. I knew if I didn't keep them, I will regret; not to mention, they are in cheerful colors I love. 

Thinking back, she loved making "show" pieces like knotted work, and rugs, more than cloth. We all have a few of her rugs, but they were early pieces, possibly because she didn't want them around. In her 2016 exhibition, we included a dozen or so later rugs, more carefully planned and better-constructed, which after the exhibition we gave away, and the rest thrown out when we moved her out of the apartment. There were just so, so many.

Mom might have said this was a rare sample she made in preparation for something else, but I never saw the something else, so my guess is she was so pleased with the sample she didn't make that something else. Which sounds so Mom. It sat recessed in a square brown picture frame, and I'm thinking of giving it a new mat and a similar frame. I vacuumed this piece, but probably won't wash it.

There is/was a Swedish dyer and yarn producer Mom loved so much she visited her twice, but I can't find her online this morning. In Mom's world, there were colors, and then, this woman's colors. Majority of yarns used, if not all, came from her Swedish studio. I first put this piece to travel with her, but found the balls I packed with a frame loom on Mom's request when she moved. She said she started one piece, but I couldn't find the frame, so she got the balls in dreamy colors, and I kept this.

I performed one of the gentlest wool handwash jobs and dried it on a rack. I could never figure out which way Mom intended to be up/down, (I bet you can tell me if I showed you the back,) but today, I'm going with this orientation. I've been pondering weaving a large-ish cushion cover and sewing this on in the middle. It won't be practical, but interesting. 

When Mom came to Nelson without Dad, I usually had a new warp on the 16-shaft she could weave/sample; we also discussed latest samples/pieces and photos; swapped new yarn info, and Mom raided my bookshelf. One year "Tapestry Weaving" by Kirsten Glasbrook had just arrived; I wasn't as interested in tapestry as I was taken by her colors, and since Mom wove tapestries, I thought it'd be a good powwow topic. Well! Mom loved it so much she took it home in her hand luggage. (And just now, as I was going to photograph the page, I found her A3-size photocopy in the book!)

About a fortnight later, I received photos of the finished piece; considering mail those days took nearly a week to arrive, that's fast! Good thing she had yarns in all the right colors on hand, eh! :-D Also interesting she chose to make the finished piece upside down and back to front cf. the picture.

This was another gentle handwash job, keeping the beads and bottom fringe dry. I stuck a metal knitting needle to hang dry, but may replace it with a bamboo version, or so something else entirely. The color might have faded ever so slightly, but no pressing was necessary.

At the height of Mom's rug-weaving days, she wanted different rug wool in reds, so I ordered the smallest mixed lot I could find. I know she wove some, but she complained I had ordered too, too much, so on the last day of my 2010? visit, I put on a red warp on her RH for a cushion cover and started weaving. That evening, Dad, who was blind on one eye but also never noticed/commented on such trivia as colors, exclaimed, "Oh, isn't this an uplifting project!" Mom finished it immediately and put in a perfectly-sized... innards for Dad to use, until I cut it open and brought home the cover only. Then put it around my not-small-enough corduroy-covered cushion to photograph. :-P

Mom loved to weave, and dye and spin, (or is it that she loved textiles themselves?) but her interest was more experimental than mine; seeing interesting pieces on her travels around Japan or brought to her home in her youth, and later on her travels with friends and Dad or gifted by us in the form of books and large-format calendars, she inquired how things were made, and tested then out like a science experiment. (When I cleaned out her apartment in 2019, there was only one, one!, scarf she or I made over decades, but she had kept her many decorative pieces displayed all over the apartment.) This made her a more interesting person to talk to; probably a better teacher; it also suited her sociable character/life, and her generation where widespread knowledge of regional textiles traditions was far more prevalent.

Here are her last two survivors of her travel acquisitions, on top of which sat heavy objects for some years, but otherwise in good repair without excessive discoloration; the navy on the left looks much better IRL. but I also have gazillion souvenir pressies. I am contemplating gentle handwash, perhaps with Orvus, though my usual source is out of them for now.

On the other hand, Sister's and my heart break to think of how many Swedish blankets went into recycling. We laughed imagining Mom packing them into suitcases, tossing out clothes if necessary, while Dad watched half frowning, half in admiration of her passion, and offering tons of "advice".

In fact, I'm in awe of Mom's energy/passion/speed aimed at textiles that piqued her interest. She didn't waste time reading/studying/contemplating, and just made them. Which made her "body of work" was enormous. It was a good, and mighty lucky, life, in textile and her other endeavours. I'm happy for her, and Dad has got to be satisfied with the astronomical investment he made. (In addition to travels and yarn/equipment purchases, I'm thinking of the roof of our family home he had raised by a meter+ to increase Mom's yarn storage space. True story.)

Though sad, we three siblings are relieved Mom's been freed from the physical/cognitive dungeon she was thrown in for five years/this year/her last fortnight, depending on how you look at it. She's in good company wherever she is, while I am now the eldest of our tiny Mitsuhashi clan of ten. Now that's something to ponder.