Sit down and let me tell you a story. It started long ago, this deep need to express my creative self. As a child my aunt taught me how to knit, how to paint and how to make latch hook rugs. Time progressed and the whims of youth took over before college education led to burnout. During these times, I always turned to the creative expressions learned in childhood to make me feel truly happy in life.
Becoming an adult was a slow journey that I was dragged into, dictated by time and necessity but it lacked a sense of self. You know what I mean. That feeling of accomplishment when you finish a project or reach a creative goal for the first time. Everytime I finish a sweater or any knitted object, I know that this is because of skills that have been passed down for generations in my family and that brings a sense of joy that can not be replaced by anything else. I realised that the joy for me was not just in the finished object but being able to keep alive that part of my family history that I can no longer visit in my day to day life. Knowing that what I can create today in some ways transcends time.
You may think this a sad story but let me assure you that it’s not. Realising that the joy was in the skill and the craft itself led me on a journey from life as a research chemist to a LYS worker. I’m lucky enough to work in a beautiful georgian building that has ties going back generations in the wool industry in Ireland. On the days I work, I’m surround by crafts and not always in obvious ways.
Time passed and the monotony of parenthood and work took their toll. Motivation and time for knitting declined and there was a deep emptiness in my being that needed to be filled. Now, you may think this is a story about me but it’s not. It’s about a wheel, a beautiful old Donegal Spinning wheel and the last Irish Wheelwright.
There was a seed of an idea, I loved yarn. I loved the content, the construction, the ply, the twist, the colours and I loved fiber. On a chance meeting in work, a friend taught me how to spin on a spindle. It’s fun but over time the need for a wheel grew. I tested the waters with new wheels, I visited friends and exhibitions but nothing felt quite right. I knew I wanted my wheel to be Irish and the hunt began.
It wasn’t long before I found the Irish Wheelwright in Inishowen but before I could commit a chance email from a customer tugged at my heart. There was an old Irish wheel in need of a home. This wheel needed to be loved, needed to be used and needed to see the light of day again.
Emails flew back and forth, the full history of the wheel slowly revealed. The wheel, older than myself, was hand-crafted by James Shiels. It’s first ever home was the building in which I work, for a weaver years ago. It’s current owner loved it but time had passed and she could no longer use the wheel and couldn’t watch it sit, lonely and unused but she didn’t want the wheel to go to just anyone, she wanted this wheel to be truly loved.
An afternoon phone call assured her that I would appreciate the wheels history and construction as much as I would love to spin on her. My early childhood days of playing in my father’s carpentry workshop meant that I could appreciate the hand turned spokes and hand-made bobbins. It was love at first sight, that mad, deep, intense love that Juliet had for her Romeo.
The wheel, name yet unknown to me, needed attention. So, I bathed her, coated her leather, oiled her and conditioned her wood. Then the time came to test her, that glorious first spin where we came to know each other, our quirks and flaws before finding a similar constant heartbeat. The first yarn to come off her was rough to begin with before finding a mutual, timely rhythm, all the while still never knowing her name.
As the weeks passed, we grew closer. My creative self being born anew. When I spin, it’s like having coffee with an old friend. I listen to her story, what she needs from me and I remember my parents, family members now long gone and the craftsman who made something all those years ago with such skill that even today, years later it brings me joy as it works. Together we create something new. We create something wonderful.
You may wonder why I chose to share this tale with you. You be surprised to hear that it’s isn’t because of spinning itself. These yarns and knitted objects that we create are made with love, skill and will be here when we are gone. When I sit at my wheel or knit with my yarn, the joy it brings cannot be filled any other way. Together we make the yarns and garments that fill my creative life. So, I’m asking you to take time for you as you create, to find what truly brings you the happiness that Daisy, my wheel brings to me. To keep alive old traditions, pass on your rich creative history and bring about a new line of creative, happy souls. Be the reason that something old can truly shine again. Be the reason for smiles in years yet to come. Be happy. Be creative. Be you.
Beautifully written Nadia, passing on a craft/ tradition is such a wonderful thing to do and even if it isn’t used for many years somehow, something will either jog a persons memory or their life will alter in someway and that knowledge will come to the fore.
There is a magical joy in being able to make something, finish it, wear it/ use it but a very warm glow comes when you can give it to someone and you know it will be cherished! I think we are the luckiest of people —— our lives are certainly enriched by these small but wonderful things. Happy growing and making X
Creative always come with huge joy and put ahead when challenging times come. Most people aren’t patient to work on their creative power and are slave others that tap into their creative power. i love this and thanks friend
Thank you for the lovely comment!
I loved reading this piece!!! So tenderly written, Nadia.
Give my love to Daisy ?
That is a really beautiful piece. I love how you interpret the craft itself, as something to pass down through generations. And what a perfect way to do so, than with an old spinning wheel.
Thanks so much Naomi