The Act of Sewing as a Process of Emotional Repair
How sewing has helped me in my art and life.
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“The act of sewing is a process of emotional repair.” -Louise Bourgeois
I’ve always been a person who liked to do crafts. I grew up crocheting and cross-stitching, and most recently I have been sewing. I made my first full sized quilt in early 2020 for a solo exhibition I had at Burrard Arts Foundation, which was about my healing process after my partner left our relationship because he decided he wanted kids. In the middle of the gallery I set up a bed to display the quilt and it looked beautiful. Shortly after the exhibition the pandemic hit, and I just kept sewing. I would visit the closest thrift store to buy pillowcases which I’d cut up and sew back together, and I learned to hand quilt by watching reels by Heidi Parkes.
The more quilts I made, the less I wanted to use the machine, but just wanted to sit quietly, or with a tv show on in the background, my hand moving the needle as a sort of meditation. During the summer of 2021 we experienced a severe heat dome and the tension in the air felt extreme. It was hard to do anything it all, and I began to create my favourite type of quilt, which I now call an Anxiety Quilt. I’d simply randomly hand sew scraps of fabric onto a larger piece. It wasn’t about design or skill, it was about staying calm.
Sewing has proven to be a part of my art practice that I now can’t imagine living without. It helps me sort out my thoughts by giving them room to breath, it helps me feel grounded. It provides a sense of accomplishment (which my long term photography projects can’t do, as they are all in process).
On the heels of severe burnout and an unravelling happening around what I was doing with my life, I was supposed to do a two month long walk in Europe last year. I had bought all the gear, bought the plane ticket, and was ready to go. A week before my flight I ended up cancelling the trip. I wasn’t in the right headspace. I’d heard that people on the trail were quitting due to lack of proper navigation and enough places to shelter. I knew I needed something to help me out of the hard place I was in, but I wasn’t sure if the added stress of a trail that wasn’t well marked, and not being able to easily find a place to sleep each night, was what I was looking for. But because I had sublet my apartment I had to be out of my place. I packed my car and headed south, planning to visit New Mexico, which I’d always wanted to see. I loved being on the road by myself and it was nice to be driving through the redwoods and along the coastline, but I was dropping $100/day on gas and was starting to feel untethered. I found a pet sitting gig in Ventura, California where I could hole up until the person subletting my apartment left.
It was in Venture that I completely came undone. Finally stopping for an extended amount of time, with literally nothing to do in the highway hell hole that is Ventura California, I was face to face with how deeply fucked I was. In between emergency calls with my therapist and near constant fraught texting and calls with friends, I would sit in the backyard and create sun prints on fabric from the foliage around me. It was something to focus on. I was making place-based fabric in the location of my meltdown.
When my sublet left and I was able to return home I gathered up the sun prints I had made and thought I would sew them into a big bed-sized quilt when I was settled again. At home I spent ages fighting with them, trying to fit them all together with scraps of other fabric, but I wasn’t enjoying the process and wasn’t liking how it looked. I stopped the project and put all the pieces away, thinking I’d get back to it another time.
Almost a year has gone by and my mental health is much better than it was during my time in Ventura. A few weeks ago I pulled out all the sun print blocks and instead of trying to fight them into one big quilt I started hand quilting them into their own individual small wall hangings and it was joyful. There might have been a part of me that felt like they had to be sewn together to symbolize the healing of all my fractured parts. But I think what ended up happening was I learned how to let go. My tough time was, in part, about trying to gain control over the life I’ve chosen to live, which is inherently a life of having to surrender to the unknown.
It would bring me so much joy for people to have these items in their homes. They were tools of healing for me, and I hope that they could continue their goodness by bring joy into your lives. If you would like to purchase one please email me at divesin@gmail.com. Thanks again for being here.
