"LIFE" is what happens to us while we are making other plans.
Over 20 years ago, I stopped doing what I loved the most--needlepoint/petitpoint--in order to pursue new crafts and new ideas. None of which I was very good at. Unlike needlepoint, which I can say with all modesty, I excelled at. This is not to brag--it is just a simple fact. While most of the world seemed to be doing tedious stitch exercises, or stitching goofy looking frogs, I was quietly creating masterpieces. Not MY words--I was told this by everyone who saw my work. Yet I blithely set it aside, to come back to "some day".
The trouble with "some day", is that it doesn't exist, except in our minds. I learned this all too well when I decided to go back to my first love, and discovered that my eyes had other plans.
I learned I was going blind. I am slowly losing my eyesight to macular degeneration, at the age of 66. I am taking special vitamins, but this is not going to "fix" me. After dealing with the diagnosis of Fibromyalgia, and coming to terms with the fact that I had lost part of "me"--now I was facing blindness. As an artist, there is nothing that could have been more devastating. I was actually diagnosed over a year ago, but am only now able to talk about it. I mean, it's not like you can send out announcements saying HEY GUESS WHAT?? I am going blind!! I went through all the emotions, I threw myself a pity party, and now I am ready and eager to use the time I have left-and the eyesight I have left--to do what I love the most.
To this end, I bought myself a magnifier/light, and am back to working on my tapestries. I may never "finish" them--but for now, I am happy. I am content. I am doing what I was meant to do.
And here is SUMMER, from a painting by Alphonse Mucha. Petit point, 18 mesh canvas. That translates to 324 tiny stitches per square inch, every single one of them put in by hand, one at a time.
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