A Bolt of Fabric Like a Bolt of Lightning.

Sewing, Math, and Noise. Toile La La.
A bolt of fabric would shock me like a bolt of lightning.  I loved, love, and will always love fabric - but sewing, when I was young... was a complete grey area for me - like the static of no reception.

My mother sewed - was, and is a teacher of many things - but could not transmit her knowledge; we thought and communicated differently... opposite sides of the brain.

Sleeve pieces - to me, looked like hats... and how on earth could that be a pair of pants - that shape, looking like a geographically-mapped state or country.

Compounding matters were the logistics of noisily returning all the pieces to the envelope which oddly and - too bad - grew too small for its contents.

Sewing, with its fractions of an inch, made me feel stupid... just like math in school.

Still though... the fabric beckoned and was a ray of hope.  And, there were the marvelous catalogues.

We did not travel for shopping - as clothes were purchased from either of two local department stores, or the Sears catalogue.  Ordering things online had yet to exist.  But, both department stores sold sewing patterns and row after glorious row of fabric.

Perched upon a tall stool in front of slanted shelves offering pattern catalogues, I imagined combinations of shapes and fabrics.

To sew seemed magical, but until I learned that magic - the next best things were to keep my eyes open for ideas... to shut them and imagine, then to open them again and draw.