I’ve never followed the rules. Just ask my mother.
When I was taught needlepoint, hundreds of years ago, I fell in love with the craft. However, teachers (have always) tried to put my skills in a box to be judged or graded for its perfection. Those kinds of rewards were of no interest to me, so I never even tried to reach that kind of perfection in anything in life. To me it was always about the road and the experiences along the way that captured my imagination and held my interest – not the end “grade”.
This “old-fashioned” craft that I loved was filled with judges – to be avoided at any cost! So for about six decades I hid my work from the world and dared not to announce that I had something to say. Slowly, very slowly, I finally stuck my toe in the waters. Amazingly, a crack of acceptance showed its face and I became braver.
Needlepoint became fascinating to me when I discovered that it could be bent and twisted and I could happily make work that fit no mold, nor followed any rules. I could tell stories – imagine that each stitch was being sent out on a mission. A tiny speck that joined with another tiny speck, and then another until they merged together to form a new story.
And each finished piece did its job – to make a very big noise in a very tiny space. And each piece told a story … I was here, and I created art with no judges and with no boundaries.
More info: ConniePickeringStover.com
Not Ready for Winter
Road to Forever
Copper Canyon Basket
To The Women of Gees Bend
Bucks County Autumn
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