Tales from the Workbench

• My Grandmothers Tools •

Throughout her life, my grandmother was an ambitious and creative hobbyist. My childhood is filled with memories of spending time with her at her home, where she was constantly pursuing some new creative venture; everything from painting, sowing and knitting to porcelain work and kitschy yard decor.

When she passed away in June of 2011, her home, life’s work, and collections of goods were picked through by her children, and anything “of value” was sold off. No one seemed much interested in her jars of old paint brushes and art tools, her cases of oil paints and bins of canvases, her sewing baskets filled with vintage thread, yarn and fancy fabrics. So when these items needed a home, I was lucky enough to give them a corner of mine.

It has been nearly 13 years since her passing, and over those years, her treasured goods have moved faithfully with us in our travels  from place to place. Whereever we land, a small altar in our home is dedicated to The Ancestors we connect to - figures who have influenced the course of our lives- and it always has a special corner with photos of my Grandmother, filled with items she enjoyed, or found precious during her life. Daily, I make offerings and at times when I am feeling unimaginative or frustrated with my work, I think about all that I learned from her about joy, determination and creativity, and I look to her for inspiration.

In pursuing my own art, I use her peely handled old sculpting tools nearly every day. Her tattered old paint brushes fill a corner of my workspace, and when I need just the right brush - no matter how many new ones I’ve purchased - I always find exactly what I’m looking for among her aged, varied bristles. At the corner of my workbench, sits her fragile vintage pin cushion, full of sewing pins and needles of every style, old and new. In the shape of an ornate chair, the pin cushion has delicate legs that have been repaired a half dozen times since I’ve had it, and it saw repairs by her, before that - signs of her love for it - and mine. Whenever I pull a sewing pin or needle from it, I think of her and offer a tiny blessing.

Blessed Be, Grandmy!

Daisy E. Bouters
(“Pat” to anyone who knew her)
1935-2011