Symphony in White No. 2: The Little White Girl
1864 Whistler
It has been nearly a year ago that I began this blog under this name. Jude at Spiritcloth noted me in a post, and then it seemed to be a process of growth, the blog and my own. Previously I had a blog for a year under another name at Typepad, but it was not really going anywhere, and I was a bit frustrated. Now, after a year, I think I have finally found my voice. It is this I would like to address in this post. First, I will wear my heart on my sleeve as I recount some steps this year. Second, it will be the only time I will be willing to be so honest and candid with my personal life. So please bear with me as I reveal a little of this painful path.
We Are Not Alone
Allison Friend
A few months into my new blog, it had been noted that there was a sadness coming through my writing. I had not been aware of this, and was a bit jolted by it. This was not the image or the message that I wanted to convey. I decided to do my best to extinguish it, but what I discovered was that it was a feeling too prevalent in my life to erase with the help of a computer keyboard. Every time I wrote a post, I felt as if I was essentially hiding behind the photos and the words. I began to feel like a fraud, and I wanted to be forthright above all.
Illustration by Edward Robert Hughes
I decided to seek some counseling to find out why this sadness was so pervasive, and quite honestly, it had become a part of my daily life. When I went to see the counselor the first day, I was apprehensive and suspicious that this was even the right decision. Yet, I felt unable to figure this out on my own. When I entered his office I felt as if I had entered someone’s art studio. I felt immediate comfort and safety. The room had a sense of soul as well as a magical touch. I could not seem to absorb enough of the visual richness that I found and felt. When I caught sight of a framed picture, the exact one above, I decided there was much to discover here in this space, and that I would allow myself the time and energy to reside here for awhile. The uncanny thing is that I had framed this picture in a room that I had created many years back in San Diego at a time when my creative drive was at a peak.
After a few meetings and much inner exploration during this time, I decided my sadness most likely began during this time of my childhood, when I was barely six and in the first grade. It had been an awful introduction and beginning of school. I could not focus or concentrate. It was assumed I must need glasses, but my struggles continued and so did my inner turmoil, lack of confidence, and increasing shyness and introversion. It was during this year that I remember being always sad and confused and afraid. It became my persona, one that never ever left me. The only time in my life I have been at peace and felt safe was when I could get lost in a book. It was also the only time I could focus for any period of time.
The Artist’s Wife in the Garden
Peter Severin Kroyer
Reading became my connection to dreams and worlds beyond my own inner pain and frustration. I became a collector of books as well as many dreams, and this is where I have resided all of my life.
Postcard: “Thorton (Wilder), Mitchell (Kennerley), and Christopher (Morley) at the Gotham Book Mart and Gallery also known as Cats at Work by Rhonda Gray & Stephen T. Robinson
When I was about to leave for college, my mother made me an offer. She said if I would sew all of my clothes for my first year of college, then she would buy me any pattern or fabric I would need to complete this task. So during the summer before I was to leave for college, I spent my days and many nights at the machine perfecting my skills and building my sewing confidence. Essentially, this knowledge became an inherent part of my creative outlet as well as a gift that I have never been without my entire life since that time.
But sewing and reading are solitary pursuits, and over time I realized I was less inclined to become engaged in any social diversions. I was becoming more introverted even in the last few years. And I was becoming more depressed as a result. Going back and exploring painful scenarios is never easy, but I was finding a pattern in this. My blog had been a way to connect with people and share a little of myself. I felt at times that I was all over the place with subjects and ideas and plans. I thought my direction was to get back into making quilts. This had been too many years ago that I had followed this course. I did not realize it was really not my first love or dream now. It has taken me nearly a year to understand and define what it is that yearns to be my focus, and in the process my sadness and depression have dissipated if not totally disappeared.
I have a renewed focus and an energy and joy, something I have not felt, perhaps, ever. For those of you that have followed me and felt a little frustrated with my hopping around, I can truthfully say it was a definite expression in my posts. And since quilt making will no longer be my focus, I feel inclined to say that those of you who have put me in their blogrolls as one to follow in this particular pursuit, I will understand if you feel a need to take me off your list for this reason. We need to create the blogs that match our interests and personal goals, and I know from this point forward that I will be solely concentrating on antique and vintage textiles and relating these primarily to clothing design, textile history, and quilt-related history.
This has been a struggle in some ways to write this post. Who wants to admit that they have had to deal with depression or inability to focus, but I also feel that we live in a world of much sham. I do not want to pretend my life has been something other than what it is or has been. I will not discuss this again on my blog because I want this blog to be about creative pursuits, fulfilled dreams, and questions about life that relate to these goals. I think now going forward into my second year as mendofleur, the format will somehow seem cleaner and sharper and straightforward. And I just might be found dancing in and out of the lines as I write.
My first thought after reading this beautiful, heartfelt post is that I wish I had had that precious six-year-old girl in my class, for I loved all the shy quiet ones who reminded me of myself! My second thought is that I suspect those of us who love your blog love it because of your gentle, lovely spirit shining through in every post, and that none of us mind if you wander “off topic” in the least (wander as you please! I say), but it is soooooo exciting that you are closing in on your dreams, that there is a clarity in what you want to do and to talk about. I can hardly wait to watch your dreams unfold! And these paintings that you chose for this post are lovely, lovely, just like you. xo Kari (an unrepentant wanderer)
Oh my dear Kari, your words are so beautiful, just like you! I wish I had been in your class. I would have been a very confident, capable woman if I had had a teacher like you! But alas, it was not to be. My teacher was cranky, critical, impatient, and mean. Actually she was worse than that. My mother allowed me to tear up my report card once. I thought that was very intuitive and sensitive, and I think it was a healthy act of destruction and satisfaction for me.
Wandering off topic might be good sometimes, and I probably will a little here and there, but for general guidelines and healthy motion, I think it is better to have a discipline of staying on track as much as possible. Thank you for your always generous comments and presence.
P.S. That photo of your books and your cats (are those yours?) is priceless. Talk about speaking volumes ~ I love that photo!! xoxo Kari
Unfortunately, that was a postcard I had purchased a while back because I love cats and books. Yes it does “speak volumes” doesn’t it? I must go back in and give credit where credit is due. I forgot to do that, and the title is quite delightful.
I love the antique and vintage textiles you share here. Your affinity for them is like light in the garden or through a window.
Hmmmm, your comment was so poetic and so very much appreciated. Very tender and special words. Perfect. Thank you, Caro.
I have to say that I agree with Kari. I am so happy that you are finding the focus you want, that you feel good about where you are going, but I also have to say that I have never minded your wandering. Love the images you chose for this post!
I live my life through images. I guess that is why I like cards and art books so much. There is a richness sometimes that can’t be conveyed in words and a picture often says so much more. I feel this way about your photography. It so often captures the essence of what you are communicating in words. Funny, but I still have that image in my mind of those beautiful soft pink primroses in the rusted tin box. I am trying to not wander too far from home in my mind these days. It is an experiment.
Thank you so much for your comment about my photos. I can’t say how much that means to me… I think we all have times in our lives we are meant to wander and times when we need to focus. I’m going to bet this is will be a great path for you.
It is comforting to know that on a path, one can have some company. I think you are right about the see-saw action in life of wander versus focus as long as there is balance and that one does not weigh too much over the other, so you are suspended in mid-air not knowing which way is up or down. I guess for me I have often been more in mid-air in a place of indecision. Keep on with the great photos!
I had a little weep reading this Phyllis, you have expressed feelings that I can entirely relate to and share, but have been unable and or unwilling to put into words. I have learned to love the part of myself – the larger part – that is solitary, but it doesn’t stop me from sometimes wishing I was a sunnier person, more gregarious, outgoing and easy going!
I am so thrilled that women have made their unique mark on new technology through things like blogs, it gives us a creative & nurturing voice to share across the miles and cultures. Thank you Phyllis.
My father’s sister was all those attributes that you just named, and we all loved her and were drawn to her. But I think that there is a place in the world for the quieter, more solitary individual too. I have a hunch that many women who are drawn to blogs and create some of their own just might be more of this sort of personality that is more introspective. We need both kinds in the world to have balance. I am glad I found you and your blog!
phyllis, i have sensed the sadness, but maybe through my own school experience and the fears that gripped me and kept me from doing so many things in my life. i have also hoped all along that your focus could be textiles. maybe it was the gift you sent me, i could feel it. i appreciate the chance to share your expertise as well as you joy in giving us something so heart felt…
Thank you, jude. One never knows how the past has influenced a person’s expressions and decisions. I am guessing that this is why you became such a fine storyteller through cloth because it was your way of letting go of so much that you had experienced in a similar way. You have become such an exquisite writer as you tell the stories behind your creations and your every day journal. In many ways, for me, it is very philosophical and deep. The layers of your writing and ideas echo the beauty of your quilt expressions in cloth. All very magical and beautiful!
I have to say Kari has said and expressed it beautifully.
When I think of you, the words grace and elegance come to mind.
I have the same picture by Mr. Hughes.
Your blog is lovely and I always learn so much. I appreciate
and am deeply touched by your honesty. You are like a beautiful butterfly who can move forward in clarity and I for one wish to be a part of that.
From such a generous and heartfelt comment, I feel as if I need to raise my standards to rise to the level of your esteemed description. Perhaps I can earn the distinction in the year(s) ahead. Thank you so much for your sensitive and very caring thoughts.
Oh, how I identify with you. As a child, it took me a long time to grab onto to reading but when I did “get it”, I took off and reading would be my reprieve in life. I remember sitting in a large chair during summer, reading a book while I could hear the neighbor children playing.
My experience of counceling was magical. It was like a soul cleansing. I could understand my viewpoint better. How wonderful it felt. I think that it is a panacea for many ills. I do endorse it. It seems when a person is overly thoughtful, they take on other people’s viewpoints and loose their own and that does need to be righted and counceling is such a good aid for that.
The painting by Whistler struck me rather hard. I opened your site and thought how much that woman looks like the images that I had seen of you. Then I looked at the woman in the mirror and thought how sad and lonely she looked. In profile, she looks like she can handle her self but the truth is revealed in the mirror. I had been struck by the idea that you were showing us how you really are and I want to say that I am glad that you have a format to share.
Sorry for the length!
I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on counseling. It was not something I wanted to do, but sometimes in life we do get stuck. At times there seems to be no other way to turn, and people close to us tend to run out of suggestions or advice as we try to meander through the circuitous path that sometimes knows no end. I think we need to end our silence about some things and be true to ourselves and others. As I get older, this seems to be my mode of operating because it feels so liberating.
I guess it is a common theme to try and find ourselves in paintings and images that resonate in a true way. Somehow it helps us to see a little better and realize that we are never alone, that all through history there has been someone somewhere who maybe felt as we did. I think that one of the mistakes of human nature is that we think we are the only ones who are sad, lonely, or depressed when, in reality, we have a great deal of company. I used to fear being frank in my feelings, but truly I have nothing to lose. There is so much that needs attending in the world, and when you can attend to yourself, then you are more able to attend to others and help them in a deeper and empathetic way.
I thought of writing you a personal response but your bravery and strength warranted something more. I lost my brother when I was 6, in a way I lost part of my mother too. She was depressed and very loving and very nurturing but she was depressed and not very good at the homemaking, caregiving side of motherhood which made school a nightmare. I too escaped into books which took me away and of course my needles. I smiled a lot. An awful lot but that too made me feel like a fraud. It has taken me a lifetime to make piece with my biography so I appreciate your struggles. I tell you this not to tell you of my own struggles but to let you know that you are not alone in this particular biography. I have loved getting to know you and reading of your love of needles and threads and fabric and quilts and everything else I adore. Thanks for you strength and bravery and here is a hope that both of us will find our way with our loves and our gifts that were somehow left behind when something dear was taken away!
Such a loss you have experienced at such a very young age. I think these sad experiences early on tend to make a mark on how we relate to many things in our lives going forward. I had not been through anything as difficult as this, but I can imagine how it must have had an impact on you. In some ways, you grow up without this maternal support that is so necessary for getting along in life as you grow and establish your identity. I am not sure how a person heals from this sort of trauma, but obviously you learned to let your hands and your artistic eye take you to another place in your mind and heart. It reminds me of the story that Isak Dinesen told in her memoir. When one is impaired in life, be it physical or psychological, one learns to adjust in finite and creative ways that give the life more treasured existence than would have been possible otherwise. She relates this to a plant’s taproot has been damaged or bent and seeks another course that is altogether different but perhaps more worthy and inspired and strong. I like to think this is what you have done too.
I’ve found your blog through Lois, at Morgaine le Fay Antique Textiles, and this post is so courageous and wise. I’m so glad you’ve shared your experience…I, too, have lately noticed an unexplained “sadness” creeping into some of my work and have been trying to understand it’s source. My children have been leaving the nest in the past year, and part of the underlying sadness has come from there, and the feelings of moving into a new phase of my life and work. I love that you had the courage to move through this, and your story has helped others to recognize this phase of transformation and grow with it. Thank you for your lovely insight…and your creative work is beautiful! (I’m adding your blog to my links!)
Best wishes,
Stella xxx
Wasn’t Lois’ recent post on vintage clothing fabulous?!! It was so much fun to see and read and I was drawn to your perceptive comments.
Regarding this “sadness”, I think it is a cyclical emotion in our lives. Heaven knows, there is so much rapid change in our culture that we are always having to adjust to and absorb. And then there are all the personal changes we confront as our children leave the nest, and we are asked to reinvent ourselves. I think this is all positive, but it does seem to imply that we have to wade through the muddy waters of confusion before we get to the other side where the solutions and promises are beckoning. It is odd, but I gave up my children various times during my years of motherhood due to divorce and financial instability, so when I did have to see their leaving permanently, it was already something I had confronted a few times. It is a poignant time, none-the-less. It is hard to let go, but in doing so, we open possibility up not only for them but ourselves as well. Just be sure that you take time to nurture yourself through these inevitable changes, and then it will soften some of the rocks that you have to step over in the process. xx
How can I express how moved I was to read your blog entries today after a few days gap, so much to experience and enjoy. Your integrity is remarkable and refreshing, and I know you have touched many spirits, including mine, by sharing such intimate memories and thoughts. A very sincere thank you, and I wish you God speed along the path which will lead you to true fulfillment.
When I was a child there were no books in the home, my mother disapproved of reading because she did not understand the joy of it. Thank goodness for free, English lending libraries, which saved my life.
I originally come from Lancashire, and my primary school took us on a ‘trip’ around a cotton mill – the noise was horrific and put me in bed for 3 days afterwards, it genuinly made me sick. I still cannot stand loud noise.
So, you see, you touch memories for us all, many thanks.
Wishing you well with much love Valeriexxx
How does one respond to such a touching story as yours? I simply could never imagine living without books to inspire me and give me hope. Thank heavens you had the opportunity to access some books from the library. This must have been a magical part of childhood to have your own secret place to go, like a secret garden.
I just finished listening to Things I’ve Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi. She tells so many revealing, personal, and touching things about her life and her existence in Iran, but one of the things that I learned is that she went to a private school in Lancashire before her formal education. What she endured throughout her life in Iran is quite amazing. Very inspiring. You might find it interesting.
I can well imagine you were sick after experiencing the horrific noise of a cotton mill. There is nothing in the world like it, and until you have heard it, you simply cannot imagine how ghastly it is.
I hope you have found your own path and joy in your life, and I hope you are still reading. Thank you so much for your sincere and personal comment. I wish you the best, as well and hope to be visiting with you again! xx
They say life may be short but it sure is wide. This post gave credence to that by all you’ve been through and where you find your self in the moment today… I admire you for your perserverance and the ability to discover your true passions in relation to textiles. I loved your post as it provoked much thought within my own self. It seems not only I, but many people were touched likewise…. Blessings to you and thanks for sharing your heart and soul
I am amazed how many of us are on a similar journey. That in itself is comforting. We are never alone, truly. Thank you for your appreciation and thoughts. Yes, life is very short and wide, isn’t it? I hope your thoughts were good and comforting. I think as we get older we need more of that going forward.