2020 begins....

Firstly, apologies to all those people I told at the Royal Melbourne Show (in September) that I'd have a new Shopping Bag Tutorial up her within days.... Ummmm... Real life got in the way of all my good intentions, and it has slipped down the list of priorities since.

Sorry.

There is still this free Shopping Bag tutorial, and the Zip-Away Shopping bag pattern is available in my Etsy store.

Apart from real life stuff,  I've been working steadily on my (working title) #chemostyle project. Things are taking shape. I even have an Instagram account now!  There's also another workshop coming up on the 29th Feb (register here).

It's been a strange few months... The national grief and anxiety about the bushfires that have devastated much of our country - and the constant smoke shrouding the landscape - formed a surreal backdrop for everything that happened over the Summer break.

The awareness of so much loss - lives, homes, animals, trees, businesses - was palpable with every breath of campfire-scented (or asthma-inducing) air. Those of us lucky enough not to lose our homes or loved ones in the fires have felt survivor's guilt, sadness, empathy, distress... anger at government, despair for our planet, and a sense of foreboding. Emotions have been high in Australia, and fires are still burning. Summer is not over.

That's not cloud over there.... (Photo taken on Dec 31 2019 near the NSW border, looking towards Victoria.)

In the midst of all this, my funny, feisty, compassionate and no-nonsense sister Loretta died. I won't say that she "lost the battle" against ovarian cancer... She lived with it for 14 years - with humour, pragmatism, acceptance and complete engagement with life - and eventually all the medical treatments available couldn't keep her alive. She was brave and focused on the life she was leading and enjoying.

Loretta was an artist and a tireless volunteer within her local community in Central NSW, particularly in the areas of tourism and the arts.

On the night of her wake, we discovered that the local community had honoured her memory with this sign on the Barry noticeboard. We took our glasses of wine for a walk and raised a toast to her as the sun set. To a life well-lived. To a much-loved sister and aunt. To Loretta.

One of Loretta's projects was the annual Textures of One exhibition in Blaney, which is still running this year. I hope that it is the best year ever, in her honour.

Textures of One is an open art exhibition for artists working in a wide range of media. It also includes primary and secondary school "junior" sections. Every piece must include - somewhere - the motif of the lotus (each year, the motif changes). There are prizes in each category as well as overall prizes, and you don't have to be a local to enter (see all the details here).

If you're able to, I invite you to consider making something, or getting your kids involved. If you're in the area, I invite you to visit the exhibition when it's on.

And I'll remind you to live your best life, and treat everyone with kindness. You never know what the people you meet are going through.

Scars...not wounds.

Lately, I've been contemplating those heady days of the mid 00's, when I found myself in a vibrant and connected community of like-minded and crafty souls. Since then, many of those blogging buddies have become real-life friends, staying in touch across other digital platforms and real-life meetings instead of through blog posts, comments and late-night email conversations. The bonds that we formed over chats about knitting needles and ironing board covers remain solid.

In those early days, this blog was a mix of business, personal life and crafty hobbies. Sometimes I drew threads of connection between those. Other times, I would have a bit of a rant, promote a new product or event, or simply share a moment of joy.

Blogging gave me the habit of regularly reflecting on life, as I was living it. It served as an archive for photos of the things that my then-wee-girl and I were making and doing, as much as it connected my business to the world. It gave me the space to write - to craft sentences and play with words - and I loved it.

In the last few years, I've rarely had the ability to blog like I used to, and I've felt that loss acutely.

Times change.... Life has changed.

The social media landscape is completely different.

The "wee girl" is a teenager.

I've scaled YOU SEW GIRL right back - to mostly an Etsy store and a few teaching gigs.

Teaching in higher education has led me in exciting new directions (...fancy a lesson in Design Thinking, anyone...?).

The original You Sew Girl feels like a lifetime ago and I wonder how relevant blogging under this banner might be.  And yet, I still want to write here - in the old way... to pull the threads of life together - for myself, if for no other reason. Old habits, I suppose.

For the last few years, it's been difficult to find the time... but more than that - it's often been a struggle to find the words and pictures.

The other day, I heard the phrase "share from your scars, not your open wounds"  and it resonated. The conversation was about allowing for time and perspective before we can channel our experiences into something creative, so that other people can connect to them.  I realised that - unconsciously - this is indeed what I have been doing here (if perhaps not in real life!).

Life events in the last few years have often been such, that photographing and writing about my knitting, sewing or teaching has felt irrelevant and trite, but without the lens of pretty purses and crochet to help me talk about things, I felt that I would bleed all over the page if I tried to write.  I was stifled and stuck between these two hard places, awkwardly trying to work out what... and how... to share... when there was so much going on that I was trying to process.

Since starting my #chemostyle project, I'm more able to share the life/work journey.

I'm excited by the way that this project is taking shape, and value the experiences and connections that it is creating.  Soon, it will get a proper name and a social media space of its own.  I'm working on it!

And who knows? Maybe one day I'll start blogging here again, about my knitting and everyday life.

Or I might share a bit more about my machine embroidery.



By the way, if you'd like to join in on a #chemostyle hat-making workshop, the next one is 24th Aug.
Bookings here.

The Chemo Hat Project - cont'd

I've organised another hat-making day for people who are experiencing hair loss through medical treatment. If you want to make hats for yourself, for someone you love or simply to add to the pool of hats available for donation to cancer centres, please do come along! It's on the 9th February at GJ's Discount Fabrics.

  You can sign up here (it's free, but I need to know numbers).

I'm still prototyping and tweaking both patterns and workshop methods, and gathering information and ideas that will help me to make a sustainable social enterprise that meets the needs of people going through the trauma of hair loss. 

Thank you to the wonderful group of women who came to my first workshop on the 15th December last year. 

Conversations and feedback forms at the last workshop have been incredibly helpful, and I have a survey here for anyone who has been through chemo or is a friend or relative of someone who has. All feedback is invaluable at this stage. 

For those of you further afield, I'm working on writing instructions and making patterns that can be downloaded. I'm yet to start on the web-based platforms needed to market and deliver them.

As much as I'd love for this to get off the ground immediately, I've had to accept that as a one-woman-show, building a sustainable, human-centred social enterprise is going to take time. I have to fit it in around work (to earn the sole income in the household), my own health needs (I'm still in treatment) and trying to give this kid a sense that life can be balanced and good. 

I will keep you posted on developments with patterns, and in the meantime, I welcome ideas and input.  I'd also love to hear your thoughts on branding/business name, and would love to hear of contacts* or information that might help me to get the social enterprise going faster and more effectively. 

If you or anyone you know would like to be a 'guinea pig' for a styling session with headwear, please contact me directly at chemostylehats [at] gmail dot com. This is a service that the survey is showing a need for, and I need to prototype and develop it.

*I'm already in conversations with Think Pink, Counterpart, The Cancer Council, Peter Mac and the Austin/ONJ Centre, and am volunteering with Look Good Feel Better. Plans to contact BCNA are afoot. If you have any other contacts for support organisations, cancer centres or social enterprise, please let me know. 

Over the New Year, I took my girl for a 2-day road trip to the North of the state, to show her where I grew up.  Here I am, standing in the Murray River, a year out from starting treatment, thinking how far I've travelled (in every sense) in the last year, and how many journeys there have been since I left this region at 16. I'm thankful that this year, I'm looking forward to getting on with life instead of just getting through. 

While we were in Strathmerton, I showed my girl the place where my life as a creative businessperson began. This is the site of what was once a the Community Craft Shop - run by a cooperative of locals who made and sold handmade goods - in the 70's and 80's. 

My Mum worked a day per month in the shop, and we kids could sell our sewing, drawing, macrame and other crafty works, with a mere 10% commission going to the shop. From the age of 7 to 14, this was how I earned my pocket money (which was mostly spent on fabric and plants.... not much has changed there!).

From little things, big things grow. 

Happy 2019, all.

Life, Lemons and Sharing Stories.

Scrolling through old blog posts recently, I realised how much I miss the "behind the scenes" life and family news that I used to record here. Instagram gets more attention, but I miss this space for recording the details and my more considered thoughts.

My wee girl is about to become a teenager, and I've missed recording a huge chunk of her life. I've made LOTS of things that I haven't had the time or inclination to photograph. I've had a fabulous overseas holiday that I haven't mentioned here.

That's my girl in the orange. :) 

Real life has been a priority. Just living it....sometimes just surviving it... and everything worked around the constants of keeping home, family and work together. The last three years have been full of it. Great Big Real Life. All the good, bad, ugly and difficult, a lot of mundane and a few magic moments.

Exactly a year ago, I received the advance copies of my book, The Savvy Seamstress.

It was the same day that I received confirmation that the small lump that had been mammogrammed, ultrasounded and biopsied in the preceding weeks, was indeed cancer. I was one of the (approximately) 49 women in Australia to be diagnosed with breast cancer that day, and one of the "1 in 8" women who will be diagnosed with it in her lifetime.

I wasn't very interested in the box of books on my doorstep. Things quickly spiralled in a different direction.

I've been quite open about it on Instagram and Twitter - sharing images throughout chemo, and I'm still posting images of my ongoing art therapy journey. But for some reason, the slower, more considered reflection hasn't happened here on the blog.  And still, I don't even know where to start, except to say "check your boobs, girls!".

My early diagnosis was just a little too late to avoid chemotherapy (and a higher likelihood of recurrence) than had I checked a few months earlier, when it had crossed my mind but I didn't get around to it.

Check your boobs. Often.

I did a Look Good Feel Better workshop, and wholeheartedly agree that looking as good as I could made me feel as well as I could, under the circumstances. 

Years of making hats and sewing knit fabrics came together quickly for me, and I whipped up an endless supply of hats for every occasion and outfit. My treatment was through the hottest of summer months, so I didn't want knitted or crocheted yarn hats.

Dressing up made me feel better. Hats made me feel better.

Recently, I've been playing around with hat patterns and thinking about how I might make some sort of "impact for good" with them. At the moment, I'm assessing the needs of people who are going through chemo to see what might work best. If you or someone you know is going (or has been) through treatment, and can help me with a small 2-minute survey, please do so here.

Or maybe just share your stories. I'm interested. Email me at info at nicolemdesign dot com dot au. 

When I feel that my stitchy art therapy work is taking a more cohesive shape, I might write a post about it. In the meantime, you can see it on Insta and let me know what you think.

And yes - I'm much better now, thanks. I even have hair and eyelashes, and my prognosis is good.

Wishing you all health and happiness.

And reminding you to check your boobs.

xx Nikki

Fostering the creative spirit

People often ask me how I had the confidence to put my creative work in the public sphere. Even more often, I hear how amazed they are by my girl's confidence in her own creative ability.

Here she is (below), in her first finished wearable knitting project - a knitted-in-the-round beanie. It was school holiday pj-wearing-and-watching-tv-craft. She is dead proud of it and a bit amazed that it only took about three days to make. She's also wearing the dress she designed for me to make for her recent 10th birthday....and she's looking at books on Japanese animation at ACMI. Her interests are many and varied.

 Last week, with great excitement, she published her first ebook "The Silver Star" through Amazon Kindle, and there's  a limited edition print version (being on-the-spot printed and foisted upon anyone who looks vaguely interested). She's also working on a website and has animated a part of the story on Scratch. As always, I am enormously proud of my girl.

Lately, I've been thinking that this creative fearlessness is less about talent or drive and more about never having to think "I can't". It's simply following through the ideas that come to us... to the natural finish line, as we see it. A friend recently commented that my daughter is learning from my example of following through the creative process to publishing books, patterns and online classes (and this little blog), but I think it runs deeper than that.

I've been thinking a lot about parenting in recent weeks: the bigger, long-term picture. I have spoken about it before, but I can't stop thinking about my mother's genius, patience and encouragement in bringing up her own eight children.

Yes. Eight. (I know.)

I'm number 7, and certainly not a stand-out talent.  We're a family of artists, sculptors, storytellers, designers, gardeners and general free-formers. As kids, we were encouraged to create and make and grow things. We were provided with materials and space and allowed to make the necessary mess to paint, draw, sew, knit, woodwork or electrical circuit* our ideas into reality. And - what I think is key here -  in a time before the internet gave everyone a platform to show and tell to the world, Mum made us feel that our work was worth putting into public space.

 *(for the science-obsessed brother...Creativity isn't always about art.)

My first published work, aged 6.

Our little house was far from winning any interior design award (especially after that unfortunate accident with the purple candle-making wax on the dining room carpet), but it was busting at the seams with our drawings, carvings, textile crafts, paintings, (... ahem... candles,) and all manner of other creative achievements, all proudly displayed. And the house was always full of people - neighbours, family friends and extended family - talking, drinking tea and telling stories. Our art and craft work was always pointed out, acknowledged and admired. We were all shy kids - and not encouraged to be shouty "show-offs" - but faith in our creative ability was constantly reinforced in everyday life.



Early sewing example by me, aged about 5 or 6.



When a little local community-run craft shop opened, my mother did all the membership duties for those of us who wanted to sell our handmade wares there (and starting at the age of 7, that's how I made my pocket money).  When we wanted to sell at craft markets, she'd do all the purchasing of materials, paying of fees and management of transport. We'd look sweet, sell a few things, feck off to play somewhere (leaving her to mind the stall) and then keep all the takings at the end of the day. (That sounds a bit familiar, actually...).

 

Whenever there was an opportunity for an exhibition or art prize, we were encouraged to enter. Local newspaper clippings were saved when we won or were acknowledged in any way and our efforts were always praised, regardless of the outcome....

...Or the fashion crimes involved, apparently.... I have an embarrassingly large collection of photos of clothes that I made, that from the age of 12, my mother let me wear in public .

 

Aged 16, in front of the garment mountain I had sewn.

My mum took us seriously. She showed us that if we had an idea, it was possible to see the creative process through as far as we wanted to take it, even if we were only children. She showed us that achievement takes effort and follows a process, nothing happens if you don't give it a go, and that you have nothing to lose by trying. In doing that, she also showed us how to foster creativity and individuality in our own children.

 

My girleen holds my hand as I work on the computer (with her in a sling) during the first few weeks of her life.

We have no way of knowing if Mum is aware of anything that any of us have done in the last 8 years or so, or if it would have any meaning to her now. Before that - in the first few years of this devastating illness -  despite difficulties with language, she made sure that each of us knew she loved and was proud of the adult that we had become.

My Mum with my newborn girleen. 
She had lost most of her language by then, but still had her gift for communicating with children.

We are all enormously proud of our mother and miss her every day.

And every single day, I am thankful for what she has given to me and to my super-creatively-confident kid.

Happy Holidays 2016

However you celebrate this time of year, I wish you lots of joy and special time with the people you love.

My girl and I have been over-indulging in Christmas movies and looking at houses with lots of twinkly lights.  We've enjoyed hearing carols and ... well, SHE enjoyed the buzz in the city centre (I wanted to run, screaming towards the train home)... She particularly liked that I let her have chocolate pancakes for lunch at The Pancake Parlour (highlight of the year!).  And since we set up our portable swimming pool, we've had an endless stream of friends for play-dates and outdoor dinners. 

Basically, we've been hanging out, enjoying the Summer holidays and the magic that Christmas inspires in a sweet 10-year-old's imagination. 

I have been feeling grateful for a year that has brought lots of opportunities and (for the first time in ages) no major upheaval.  I have been grateful for health and a roof over my head, and for the peace that we enjoy in this country.  I have been grateful for good friends, family and being able to make a living from the work I love doing.

I have been grateful for cheap Korean restaurants on end-of-year school nights when I can't be bothered cooking dinner (we did this twice).

We are very lucky people, indeed.

Teacher gifts were no surprise, really... The latest inkjet printed pencil case design is very Manga-inspired.  (The two in the background are my own pencil cases, made using her 3 and 4 year old drawings. They make me smile every day.)

Holiday activities have also included the transfer of a board game she drew in pencil into a fully packaged, laser-printed affair. I'm very impressed with the clear instructions and the level of complexity she developed in the game.  All done without a scrap of help from me.

You might have noticed that I've dropped the diminutive "een" from the end of my "girl".  In the last wee while, she appears to have grown nearly as tall as I am (which isn't actually that tall) and on that  train trip to the city the other day, I realised that her (kids size) boots are the same size as (adult size) mine.

And so, the summer holidays stretch before us.  I will have a kid-free week in which to catch up on some book-writing, and then it'll be back to juggling work around holiday fun.  

We will probably have more dinners on the trampoline.

Wishing you all the best for the happiest of days over the holiday period and a wonderful 2016.

Seasonally Adjusted

 

 

To everything (turn, turn, turn...) there is a season.... keeps going through my head.  Yes, the times, they are a-changin'...for many of the people that I know, and also for me. 

 

(And I was obviously exposed to too much music from the 1960's at some point in my life).

 

My friend Bella is moving out of her beautiful bush retreat.

 

 

I spent a final farewell weekend with her there, packing boxes and listening to birdsong and the breeze....

 

We remembered many good times spent here with very dear friends, and soaked up all we could of the place.  We will carry it with us.

 

We sipped champagne and looked out at the trees.... and then we packed more boxes. The season has passed and it's time to move on, so we do what we have to do and look forward to what is next.

  

 

 

 In the last few months, a few doors have closed here.  There will be more to come.

 Still, there are new doors sitting ajar.... new paths to explore...

 

 

For now, I am working at living in the present.... taking it all as it comes... letting life surprise me and accepting the direction that things take. 

 

 

I am soaking up my girl and making good memories. I am teaching workshops, teaching my fashion students and keeping You Sew Girl products going out to lovely stockists.  I am swimming and have started going to yoga classes again.

 

 Life is finding its own sort of balance around that framework.

 

There has been a slow return of the sewjo that disappeared earlier this year...

 

A "birthday present" shirt for a bestest buddy, that was promised over a year ago, was finally sewn. (There had been another birthday between ...and no shirt... it was getting embarrassing.) 

  

 

The pattern for this shirt is the Negroni by Collette patterns, and it's a winner.   This fabric is a charcoal coloured chambray, and the shirt has darkest green buttons (just for fun). The bestie approves.

  

I have been a bit in love with my new overlocker (serger), which hadn't seen much action since I bought it in June.  It has been humming away lately.  It's easier to thread and is generally a lot less trouble than my industrial overlocker, and it does a ROLLED HEM with the flick of a switch.... I get a bit excited about that.

 

A book idea is swimming around and I am thinking of pattern-writing again too.  Ideas are beginning to come back. I am not pushing it... just waiting for the mojo to be back in full swing, as it will be.

 

...And a time to every purpose... (Oh, there's that song again...)