Today, when some in our world seem hungry to divide people violently along racial and religious lines, I find myself thinking about growing up in Apartheid South Africa. In Durban in the late 60’s, I was not supposed to go alone to the Indian Market, in the heart of the city. Here I found community and my world grew bigger.
Continue reading →We gaze at the patchwork, the fine cotton, the tiny quilting stitches. Like sentences in a diary, each patch is a record of a childhood dress, a housecoat and scraps from dressmaking projects from an ear when women made all the families clothing.We sense the comforting continuum of the generations of women who stitch. And so it continues with Cooper’s quilt. We’re doing what women have always done…slow stitching.
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