Colors

Although it was my grandmother who first taught me to embroider, it wasn't until many years later that I discovered a passion for cross stitch. I was working at a crafts demonstration booth at the Kansas City Renaissance Faire. The October day had turned off chill and rainy, driving the usual crowds under cover far from where we sat. And we were really bored. The woman I was working the booth with suddenly turned to me and said "Would you like to learn to cross stitch?" At that moment, any cure for idleness would have sounded good, but it wasn't until she opened her work basket that I was hooked. There, nestled in a bag, was what could only be a captive rainbow. I felt like a kid seeing their first box of crayons. The colors were delicious - and such variety - and all shades and families of shades. This was such a far cry from the few dull shades of floss avilable at the dime store when my grandmother was embroidering tea towels. And I'm sure they were made all the more bright by the somber gray of the day surrounding us. She handed me a small square of cloth and told me I could pick any color I liked. So Laura showed me how to make an X with thread, and that day I cross stitched a single initial letter, then, in a fit of inspiration, I took a slightly darker shade and put in a line of stitches beside the first. It was like a miracle. That evening I took my treasure home and finished the letter. The next morning, I was at the door of the crafts store when it opened showing the sales lady my small sampler and asking her where I could get more of whatever it was. But the real miracle of the day was the display of DMC colors. Rank upon rank of delicious colors from bold clear primaries to subtle antiques were arranged in matched groups from delicate pales to rich darks. It was a revelation. This was certainly not the plain stuff of my childhood or the simple thread I embroidered my jeans with later in life. This was smooth fine thread fit for artistry - color fast and washable.

The next weekend, I showed up at the crafts booth with a small basket of my own and proudly displayed the small square I had spent the week finishing. Laura was amazed and pleased that her lesson had fallen on such fertile ground, but noticed that she had neglected to mention that the point of the exercise wasn't actually to fill up every single square. Having no template for this kind of work, I imagined it to be a sort of small needlepoint and worked accordingly, painting every block with color to make a whole picture. What else are all those colors for? I am told that this kind of style is referred to as "cross point" being as akin to needlepoint as it is to traditional cross stitch. But isn't that the joy of crayons or paints or colors? They seem to tell you what they want to be if you know how to listen, just like the crayons did when you were a kid.

I have come long way since that day almost 30 years ago. But every time I go to the crafts store the delight strikes me all over again. I see that rack of colors and I find that inner child again. I have long since stopped kidding myself that I'm only going to pick up a skein of the color I need, because there's always that color right next to it that has Such Potential. And, of course, you can't get just one without trying its associated shades. I have since worked with other styles of counted work - blackwork, Egyptian style counted work, Ukrainian red and black embroidery. I've worked with silk and linen flosses, and each has much to recommend it in its own way. But when I want to refresh my creativity and give my mind a treat, I always seem to wander back to the delight of those colors - simple cotton, durable, and with dye lots so consistent that I could go anywhere in the world they sell them and find a match. I think its no surprise that when I started looking for something new to create I found those colors yet again. I am looking forward to that journey.