Sew. Make. Joy.

“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”

― Rumi

I think of joy as a sort of matured sense of satisfaction- like the subtle flavor of a well-aged wine, joy is a deeper happiness that lingers. Sometimes, I feel that maybe true joy can only be felt in some after-thought, an appreciation that deepens with reflection, a moment that overwhelmed us with an exalted sense of goodness, sometimes to a point where words couldn’t really capture the sensation.

Joy can be like that: hovering indescribably like the moment before the sun sets, when the sky takes on new color by the minute and our minds search for the words to articulate the beauty before us; but somehow we know it’s better to stay quiet, opt instead for a shared silence and a hand held gently.

Joy, for me, was something that unfolded after walking through a thousand doorways of trial and doubt. Joy emerged from ultimately relying upon my own strengths and trusting my own instincts. Joy flows when I emerge from the hypnotic drone of my sewing machine, when I step back and look at what I’ve just created, I feel joy flow quietly. A river within me.

As an independent artist and business-owner, joy is creating what I want and supporting myself with time spent in a fulfilling way. Joy flows from supporting and encouraging other artists and featuring their work at my artist collective. When I think about the struggles I’ve overcome as a single mother, the seemingly endless setbacks that face any artist determined on both integrity and success, I find joy in gratitude. I have been fortunate enough to pursue my creative impulses and make a viable living while making others happy with the things I create. It’s like I’ve plugged into some vital source that allows me to live a life of independence and constant creative pursuit. At times I find myself so lost in the process of creating that when I’m done sewing or painting, it seems as if someone else had done it.

It is a joy of surprise. This is my life. This is what I get to do.

My earliest memory of creative inspiration would have to be of my Grandmom Wood, who would come to visit our house in New Jersey. I remember watching her quietly fold a piece of paper at the table and with some snips of scissors at the accordian-like folds… she would stop and pull the folded paper out to reveal a perfectly cut connected string of boy and girl dancers. It was like the scissors were some sort of magical implement…. I was mesmerized. I felt an urge to do the same.

I have early memories of my mother making us clothes when my sisters and I were in elementary school. She was, and still is an excellent seamstress. I remember loving one of her designs: a pink and white polka dot shirt with white overalls that tied at the shoulder. I wore it with a sort of loving pride, knowing my mother had created it with her own hands. Again, I could feel that pull to create.

And so, at the age of nine, with the scraps that my mother had left, I would start to design and make my own clothes for Barbie. I made her colorful everyday dresses, sleek pants, and country aprons. It was like a scrappy fashion line for the blonde bombshell.

In my teen years, I found that sewing became a way to express myself and my individuality…I didn’t want to wear what everyone else wore. I remember making my own prom dress: it was black and purple paisley, tea-length and flaired out with black with tulle lining. It was like something out of a John Hughes movie. It was expression of my individuality. A vision made real. It was the only one in the world like it. I wore it with joy.

There’s a lot of history in between those prom dress years and now. Four years of art college in Philadelphia. An ambitious move to California where I started a mural business. Later moving back East and becoming a mom, and then a single mom. Struggling to find footing as an artist while trying to provide for my son and keep us secure.

It has been a long road.

The other day at work, an older woman was filing through my art prints, while I arranged jewelry in one of my cases. She asked me, “Do you enjoy watching people smile while they look at your art work?”

“That’s why I do it.” I said. And this has become the best part of my life. Creating art and objects that bring joy to other people. My joy in creation transfers to appreciation, spreads outward. Positive vibes.

Being primarily a visual artist, I have focused on painting for much of my career.

However, in March of 2020, my business was shut down and I again turned to my sewing machine. I managed to thrive through the pandemic by sewing fashionable covid masks and selling them from my porch via social media. I made over 2,000 masks. I sewed my way to reopening. Scissors became an essential tool.

This year, I got a new sewing machine that could handle the denim that I love to work with. And so now in 2021, pillows have become a new passion: I used up-cycled materials to create all kinds of pillows-some with pom-pom fringe, others with cotton bohemian lace. I never make the same one twice. I snip along every quarter inch of the denim edge to achieve a perfect fray. I like keeping things out of the landfill and try to elevate the look of the denim to make each pillow stylish and unique. There is joy in combining old and new fabric pieces and patterns to create something special. I get excited designing and giving new life with those perfect pieces I find at Salvation Army on half-off Wednesday.

When I’m not designing the next pillow, I create fabric sculpted mushrooms out of recycled sweaters, embellish denim jackets with fabric, sequined trim, and sari fabric patches. I make aprons out of jeans and men’s shirts, I create colorful curtains, fun denim placemats for both pets and people, and occasionally a stuffed monster. It seems to be an endless flow of work and creation. A river of joy

Behind all of these projects, scissors are an essential tool. A good pair of scissors makes my job easier: the better the tool, the better the result. I don’t have to concentrate on process, I can focus on beauty. In the past, I have mistakenly tried poor scissors when prepping my denim and my hands were crippled for days. I've learned with a pair of quality scissors, it’s all easy-peasy. Joy flows.