Beauty in Suburbia

I took a class with Beth Miller, from North Atlantic Fiber Arts. We learned about groups of rug hookers that historically made their patterns to reflect their daily life. It was what they knew best.

With my mom's retirement, and preparing to sell her house, I wanted to document it in one more medium. Sure, we have pictures from the many years this house has belonged to our family. Built in 1962, my grandparents bought it and raised my mom and uncles. We moved in after my parents divorced and shortly thereafter, we lost both of my grandparents. So from the age of 9, this was my house too.

There are millions of memories in this house, in each and every room. So many family dinners. Sitting around the Christmas tree, with music playing, enjoying each other's company. Learning to cook, and overcoming many mis-steps in the kitchen.

But that's another set of stories. More than I could tell in a single rug. But, in front of the house is a tree. I'm sure it was planted by the county when the neighborhood was finished. There are lots of similar trees up and down the street. But this one is special. At the end of summer, as kids return to school, it's the first one to change it's leaves. They burst into color, as if they are a box of crayons busting out of their box begging the kids to "Pick me!" Every other tree on our street, and the ones behind the house are all still hanging on to the last days of summer. This tree has the grace to hold it's branches high and accept the coming change of season with open arms.

I needed to document that beauty, while the house is still in the family. So much of "suburbia" is about conformity. And this tree reminds me that there is beauty in non-conformity.

The rug is 100% wool on linen. Rug strips for the house, and we'll groomed lawn and bushes, roving for the background trees, thick spun yarn for the sky, and thinner yarns for the tree and clouds.