This Spotlights honor our members as part of our 75th Anniversary Celebration!
- by sandy mclain hochmuth
Note: Sandy has been the unstoppable force behind our series of 75th Anniversary Member Spotlight articles throughout 2023–2024. She has just relocated to Tennessee, but will remain a remote member of our guild going forward. We thought it would be a fitting tribute to Sandy’s amazing work as our Publicity/Outreach/Social Media coordinator for many years to feature her as the final profile of the Member Spotlight series. In Sandy’s own words…
I have written my way through this year of member profiles, and there are noteworthy common threads. We’ve all looked back on seminal people, eureka moments that set us on our path to weaving.
Mine was Grammie, she of the little round belly and the leather snap purse with her house key pinned to the lining. She of the crochet hook, the knitting needles, the embroidery floss and hoops, the tatting, patient with seven year old Sandy. Cozy together on the living room sofa, I learned those fiber skills—and knitting, continental style. I never knew it was different until I joined a knitting group—“WHAT are you doing? It looks much faster…” I loved making something, with the yarn strand moving through my fingers, the good comfort of repetition of the process.
I was sixteen, invited to prom, not much ready cash. Mom had a floor model White sewing machine, and dumb and fearless, I bought a Very Easy Very Vogue three-piece pattern (front, back, a bow for the shoulder, about three yards of cream-colored satin. All was humming along until I sewed the bust darts to and through the front of the gown. Satin doesn’t forgive mistakes—but the unmistakable stitch marks across (ahem) my heart were mostly masked by the carnation corsage.
Sewing lots of stuff: my sister’s wedding gown, the flower girl’s dress, husband’s teal paisley velvet jacket (yes, paisley and peace signs, it was 1967 and the Summer of Love). On to quilting, macrame. Always, the making and doing and the feel of the fiber.
In my thirties, working and travelling, visiting galleries if I had time, I was blown away by a wall hanging in Scottsdale, AZ, about 3’x3’, deep rich black, with an equally deep rich dark blue centered square. Wool, the hanging out of my price range, but so clean, woven, gorgeous, and the thought that I could do this, maybe, sometime…
Fast forward 30 years, and I walked into The Fine Line Creative Arts Center in St. Charles, Illinois, having seen an ad for an art exhibit there. I saw a room full of looms—and an instructor, students, warping boards, shuttles (although I didn’t know those names) cones and skeins of fiber—and I was home.
The first class I took was memorable because it was painful—I was lost on every step, warping, threading, beaming on, and tensioning. The loom room was empty but for me and patient teacher Michelle, and I finally had shuttle in hand. I was weaving, elated, plain weave on an eight shaft floor loom. Note: the only speedy thing I did then was to buy my still-loved rigid heddle. I wove scarves, table runners, place mats, shawls. Log Cabin was a favorite draft. I took the opportunity to buy a used eight shaft LeClerc Compact loom, made in 1984, with a three digit serial number. I walked around it for weeks, then finally took a refresher course at Fine Line. I came home, picked a pattern from “Weaving Today” (a block twill), bought Jaggerspun wool, blue and black, gorgeous. Oh, did it kink and grab! I was close to throwing it in the trash when the (smart) hubby said, “I belong to a couple of wood-working and wood-turning guilds. Isn’t there a weaving guild that meets in the Chicago area?” Four miles away, on the second Tuesday of the month, was Illinois Prairie Weavers and sympathy, salvation, humor, suggestions, hands-on help, great new friends.
So I weave. I give away towels, scarves, runners, place mats. My cats have imposed a hiatus—I’m looking for a room with a door that will keep them off the warp and out of the heddles. But I still love the making, the colors, the feel, the rhythm, the textures, the mechanics, the math, even the unweaving. I cherish my friends. You are kindred souls. Thank you all.
Illinois Prairie Weavers Guild 