This painting by Grace Cossington Smith is called "The sock knitter". It was the first painting this young Australian artist exhibited in 1915.
I've seen this painting many times and always loved it. It calms and soothes me. Upon my return from Sewjourn last Monday I suddenly felt a need to revisit the painting. It captures the feeling I had as I sat in the studio with my fellow bloggers and concentrated on my newfound hobby - crochet.
I think I'm the quietest of the bloggers at Sewjourn. I adored sitting on the brown velvet sofa at the edge of the room and listening to the chatter and laughter. I spoke up once or twice, when I felt like it, but mostly I just listened and loved.
I suppose that listening and loving has been my hobby for many years now, and is probably the reason I was first attracted to blogs and their commentboxes. When I read a person's blog I can get that rare and wonderful insight into her view of life, and there's no pressure to comment back. Oh I know, there are statistics to think of, blog traffic and number of hits and commentbox counters. But my favourite thing is to read, listen, ponder, love.... and then put some words into a box and send it on its way.
Sewjourn reminded me how important it is to slow down and take time to just listen and feel and think. It doesn't necessary help or solve, it doesn't always improve or illuminate, but that's all right. There's no rush.
Blogging often feels like a mad rush. Quickly typing up experiences before they're forgotten, linking, photographing, inserting. And yet blogging, at its very best, has led me to wonderful moments of quiet appreciation such as my treasured trips to Sewjourn. Moments of reflection in the midst of a group of women I could only have met via blogging.
That little commentbox of mine has taken me on a series of memorable journeys, all of them beginning with a quiet which is captured so perfectly by the sock knitter.