I lost my courage.
I made these potholders over a month ago. I sewed them up without loops, making them into hot pads because I couldn’t figure out which way they went. I was so unsure about them, they sat in a pile in my studio until today.
I made these around the same time I started working on my “I Decide” quilt. And I had the same uncertainty about that. I put those cats aside for weeks before I picked them up again and started sewing them into a quilt.
The timing on the quilt worked out perfectly. I can almost believe I was waiting to read that article on the Abortion Underground in the Atlantic to find out what that quilt was really about.
Today I picked up the “hot pads” and was stunned that I had a hard time seeing which way was up. It was so obvious to me, that I took them apart and sewed loops on them.
I thought back to when I made them and remembered that it was just after I had my first Therapy session. Talking about my past for an hour, explaining to my new therapist why I was seeing her, it brought up the past in a way I hadn’t thought about it in years.
And it brought me back to the past. That’s where the uncertainty came from. The indecision. That feeling of not knowing which side was up was something I used to experience all the time.
That old feeling lasted about a week, then I got my confidence back again. But somehow every time I looked at the hot pads, doubt crept in.
Today I looked at them and saw them for what they truly are. I saw clearly why I made them and how they grabbed and held my attention. It’s in the subtlety and nuances of the hand-painted yellow and purple fabric. In the contrast of the hard edges and bold shapes.
They’re sunrises and planets, landscapes, phases of the moon and microbes. They’re universal and infinitesimal.
They are different than any potholders I’ve made before and they inspire me.
Writing this makes me want to paint some fabric and cut it up to make more potholders like these and like nothing like them at all.