Journeys with Autism

As most of you know, I volunteer for a thrift store that benefits the local area hospice. Several weeks ago, I told the store manager that I sew, and since then, I’ve been up to my elbows in different kinds of mending and restoration projects. I even bought a sewing machine to help the process along, although I sew by hand when mending quilts that are hand stitched.

A couple of weeks ago, the store manager showed me some chair cushions that she wanted me to re-cover, so we started with the ugliest ones. They are (or should I say, were) ugly in a kind of 1970s polyester way. At first, I tried replacing the material altogether, but then decided that it made more sense to sew new material onto what was already there. For the front and back of each cover, I used my sewing machine. For the side panels, which had to be sewn around a zippered opening, I sewed by hand. Here is a picture of the two covers. The one on the right is the original, and the one on the left is my beautification of it:

Yes, the border around the original was made of a kind of tinsel-like gold color that should simply be illegal to use in a home furnishing. It’s an affront to the senses. When I wasn’t working on the covers, I had to hide them under other material in my loft so that I couldn’t accidentally catch sight of them.

I brought the finished cushions into the store yesterday, and the manager was so happy with them that she brought the chair up right away to sell. When I went in today to take a picture of it, I learned that it had already been sold, but was being held for pickup downstairs. So I went down and took some photos of it. Here’s the best one:

I love doing this work, and the people at the store are nearly ecstatic about it. Everyone seems to have adjusted to my not talking or hearing, and they are very appreciative of what I do. They write me notes, show me what to do, and treat me with a lot of kindness. I’m getting less and less self-conscious about my headset and my silence, and more and more able to rest easy in the knowledge that I use them to work with my disability (in the same way that I would use a wheelchair if I couldn’t walk).

It’s good to feel part of something again. It’s been a long time coming.

© 2010 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

When I posted a picture of my first quilted piece, a couple of you mentioned how much purple I’d used. Unbeknownst to y’all, I have a teensy-weensy issue with purple. Up to now, I’d imagined that I had this itty-bitty problem quite under control, but after reading the comments about my art, it’s clear that I don’t. Much as I try to avoid the color, it pops up of its own accord.

Okay, so what’s the problem? Two words: my mother. The woman loved purple. She was nuts about it. From the time I was seven years old, our house had plush wall-to-wall purple carpeting on both floors, and going up the stairs, too. The only rooms without purple carpeting were the bedrooms. Everywhere else, it was purple, purple, and then more purple. From 1965 on, long before other people were adorning their middle-class suburban domiciles with purple, my mother blazed her own trail and went for it.

What’s worse, in 1972, my mother got me a purple blouse that was the most uncomfortable piece of clothing ever known to humankind. It was made of that puckered material—maybe some of you are old enough to remember it?—and it was tight. It was worse than spandex. I don’t know how I kept from screaming and ripping it to shreds. I even have a class picture in which I’m wearing it. (I don’t look happy.)

So, here’s the deal: In the house in which I was raised, if something belonged to my mother, it belonged to no one else. Sharing was not her strong suit. If she were grieving the loss of a loved one, all the grief had to be hers. No one else could cry. No one else could express any emotion. No one else could talk about it. If anyone tried, my mother pulled rank and talked about how it was all about her grief. I didn’t grieve my maternal grandparents, who were as kind to me as my mother was cruel, for 30 years. I just wasn’t allowed to.

And yes, my mother was cruel. It wasn’t her fault. Something inside her was wired wrong, and even if she’d been willing to change, it might not have been possible. As it was, she was most decidedly not willing to change. In fact, as far as she was concerned, everyone else was always wrong, and she was always right.

Enter this sensitive, visually inclined Aspie. I’ve heard it said that not only do autistic people feel things acutely, but we also remember events and their associated feelings quite intensely, and for a very long time. I am no exception. For me, the visual world is saturated with emotion. I can’t help it. It’s just the way I am. So, the color purple is saturated with my memories of my mother. And some of those memories center on the idea that purple belongs to her, and not to me. I can’t have it, even though I love it.

It makes me want to cry with frustration. I feel like I’m in a vise and can’t get myself free of it.

Do any of you have experience with a similar issue? Have any of you managed to wring out the associations and replace them with your own? I’m quite interested in how other people handle situations like this one.

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

As promised, here is a photo of my latest creation, hand-stitched and made entirely of Guatemalan fabric:

The piece measures 18 by 24 inches. Each of the twelve squares is made of three different strips of fabric. I loved working with the fabric and trying out different patterns for the arrangement of the squares.

Such fun!

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

A couple of weeks ago, I began reading an incredible book called The Cosmic Serpent: DNA and the Origins of Knowledge by Jeremy Narby. I won’t go into detail about the content of the book; suffice it to say that the author comes to his conclusions by looking at visual forms, and that he explains his findings by combining text with art from a wide array of indigenous cultures, ancient and modern. Both the form and the content of the book are so engaging to my visual sense that my associative mind has been running free and making connections between the author’s observations and a variety of ancient Jewish motifs and ideas.

In the course of reading the book, I’ve learned that I think in visuals far more than I’d realized. Sometimes, the visuals are clear pictures, and sometimes, they consist of outlines, textures, or colors that represent ideas and feelings. Because I’ve never been any good at representational art, I’ve never considered myself a visual thinker, but it’s clear now that I am most comfortable when I’m thinking visually and associatively, rather than verbally and linearly. I’m coming to this realization rather late, I think, because I grew up in two excessively verbal and vocal cultures—American culture and Jewish culture—and I learned to navigate so well in words that I couldn’t see the process behind the words until now.

As you’ve probably noticed, I’ve been writing about one post a week. I still love writing, but I’ve found that I need to balance my identity as a writer with living in the world of the visual. So, I’ve been immersing myself in a number of art projects and finding out just how much I love color, shapes (especially helixes), and the process of putting something together that wasn’t there before. In this post, I want to share what I’ve been doing—both over the course of the last year and at the present time.

I love making wind chimes, and in the spring, I made two wind chimes from parts that I “borrowed” from an old plastic xylophone.  (The plastic part of the xylophone became a lobelia planter for the garden.) Here are the wind chimes, one made from warm colors…

 











…and the other made from cool colors:

 











More recently, I’ve made two pieces of art from the contents of an old, broken digital camera and printer dock, along with some springs and beads I picked up at the thrift store:

 











I’ve also been delving into sewing and quilting. First, I created a new backpack from the remains of a skirt I made last year. I love the deep blue, teal, and purple of the Guatemalan fabric, and I fashioned the backpack so that the pull straps close the top of the pack when you put it on:

Then, I started working on a quilted wall hanging made of fabric from clothing and other items that were wearing out. While I was in the process of cutting the material, I decided to make a potholder from the scraps. It’s unusual that I make anything unplanned and asymmetrical, but I had a good time patching the potholder together and finding out what would happen. I like the result very much:

I still need to sew the backing onto the wall hanging. When it’s done, I’ll post a photo of it.

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

My sweater, that is. My very first sweater!

I learned so much from working on this sweater. I figured out how to shape a collar, how to block the pieces, how to knit the shoulders together, and how to seam. I had planned to get help from the nice lady at the yarn store, but then I decided it would be more fun (and a better learning experience) to do everything myself. Typical Aspie, I know, but what can I do?

It’s actually chilly enough tonight for me to wear it. Our mornings have been below freezing lately, so I might get a little more wear out of it before spring begins in earnest. I’d much rather have the spring start already, but since it’s taking its time, the sweater is a nice consolation prize.

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

I’ve been having so much fun lately working with my hands. It gives me such a sense of balance and well-being.

Until last week, it had been a long time since I’d done any sewing. My last major sewing project had been a baby blanket I’d designed and sewn by hand when my 16-year-old was an infant. But more recently, I’d had a dress hanging in my closet for a few years, and while I loved the material—a beautiful Guatemalan cotton print—the dress itself had never really suited me. It was a winter dress, with long sleeves, and not all that comfortable. I think I wore it once.

So last week, I realized that it was really okay to take the dress apart and make something else with the fabric. I’m completely in love with Guatemalan fabrics and patterns, so I decided to make something I’d get to look at on a regular basis. But what to make?

Well, first I took one of the panels from the long part of the dress and sewed it into a simple bag. I used the ties that were on the waist of the dress for the over-the-shoulder strap. Here’s how it came out:

Then, I decided to make a skirt from the remaining panels. I think it came out quite well:

I’ve still got some material left. I’m thinking that I’ll save it for making some sort of mobile. Perhaps a set of stars? Not sure, yet.

I’ve also been keeping up with my knitting. Several weeks ago, I bought a knitted 100% silk scarf at the thrift store for $6.00. It was really long, and I figured I’d unravel it and make something out of it. When I got it home, I noticed that it had a mildewy smell, as though it had been in a damp basement for several years. So, I put it through a gentle cycle and then laid it on a towel on top of the radiator to dry. The next morning, I unraveled the scarf and got a giant ball of yarn. The mildewy smell was entirely gone, and about half the ball of yarn became a very soft, fuzzy hat:

I’ve also made some good progress on my sweater project. I’ve got the front and back completed, as you can see:

I’m also nearly finished with one of the sleeves. As soon as I get both sleeves done, I’m going to block the various pieces and then make some time to see Rachel at the yarn store for help with sewing it all together. I’m not really in a rush to get the sweater done before spring. At this point, making the sweater is as much about learning the skills needed as it is about making something to wear.

Today, I’ve put the fiber art aside because we have one of my favorite Jewish holidays coming up: Purim, which begins on Monday night. (If you don’t know about Purim, you can find some good, basic information here. The page even includes a gluten-free recipe!)

Then, we made the chocolate chip kind:

They smell and taste as good as they look!

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

A few weeks ago, I signed up to take a sweater class at the local yarn store. At the last minute, I realized that I would have a hard time concentrating in a class while learning a new skill. I emailed the store owner (another woman named Rachel) and explained a little bit about my sensory integration difficulties. I asked whether I could arrange some private lessons with her instead of taking the class. She was happy to do it and said she wouldn’t charge me more than I’d already paid in advance.

So I chose a sweater pattern from a book I have at home and went to the store to buy some yarn. I ended up with eight skeins of a beautiful rust-colored Malabrigo yarn from Uruguay. Not only did I get the yarn, but Rachel also sat me down, unwound three of the skeins for me, and helped me get started on the sweater itself.

I would like to say that the sweater is done, but I’ve gone off in several different directions since I got the yarn. I’ve started the sweater, but I’ve also made two more scarves, a hat, and my very first pair of mittens. 

Using more of the yarn that my husband spun from the fleece of our late sheep Sophie, I made myself a simple scarf to go with my first color stranding hat:

I then took the wool from an old hat that I’d made a couple of years back and turned it into a torquoise scarf to go with my two teal and purple hats:

I hadn’t made a hat for awhile, so I decided to reaquaint myself with circular needles. I ended up making a chenille hat from some scraps of yarn I got at a local thrift store. Here’s the hat, along with a scarf that I made a couple of years ago:

After I’d finished the scarves and the hat, my daughter asked me to make her a pair of mittens. I was going to ask Rachel to teach me, but I decided to try a pattern I have at home and see whether I could figure it out. Lo and behold, I did!

These are the first knitted items I’ve ever made entirely on double-pointed needles. I used some specialty yarn I’d picked up at the store where I volunteer. It was very fuzzy, which made it difficult to work with. If I dropped a stitch, for example, it was very hard to see where it had gone, so I had to improvise. On the positive side, the yarn was so fuzzy that most of my mistakes blended right in.

So much for my latest creations! Since I lost my original quilt photos when I ported to the new template, I thought I’d post pictures of the two quilts I’ve made. With all the snow on the ground, it’s been very nice to have them in the house.

I’ll post a photo of the sweater when it’s done. Hopefully, I’ll have the sweater finished before spring!

© 2009 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg

Several people have asked to see some of my knitted creations, so I’m posting some of my favorites. All were made with locally spun wool.