A couple of weeks ago I got a box in the mail from Carole. It had a bunch of clothes that had belonged to her mother who had passed away. She wanted me to make some pillows out of the clothes for her and her family.
I opened the box and started going through it, there were some pieces that had meaning and she definitely wanted used. In no time my studio floor was strewn with clothes. The fabric was different than what I’m used to working with. Mostly synthetic, and silk. My rough, dry fingers got stuck on it and it melted under the too high settings of my iron. It took me a few hours to get used to it, but once I did, it flowed. I listened to O.Henry stories while I worked. The savvy shop girls and their boyfriends keeping me company. I designed and re-designed, trying to use some of the more distinguishing features of the clothes. My studio was an organized mess when I left at night and when I came back in the morning. During the day, Izzy made himself comfortable among the scraps. I finished the red and purple pillow then got seduced by the arrangement of scraps of fabric on the floor under my feet. It looked like a modernist painting. Then I made the pale pink pillow, I think it’s my favorite.