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2010 March / February

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Editor's Column
a note from Elizabeth

In memory of Klara Varga
I would like to share a letter with you that I recently received from Peter Varga, the son of a needlepointer. Peter asked me to help him honor his mother, Klara. As he proudly described her stitching and what it had meant to her, it was apparent that needlepoint was a big part of who Klara was – a part of her that is still important to her family.

“My mother, Klara Varga, recently passed away at the age of 89. She was a creative, resourceful woman who enjoyed many hobbies including painting, knitting, and sewing, but most of all needlepoint and petit point. She was born in Hungary and was forced to leave during the 1956 revolution. She arrived in the United States with very few personal possessions and a very limited English vocabulary. She proceeded to assimilate, found a job and learned the language.

While working as a civil engineer in New York, she hurt her back, which forced her to retire. It was then that she started to needlepoint in earnest. She spent hours each day creating beautiful canvases. She began with very basic pictures that were fairly small and simple but soon started increasing the difficulty with each new piece. At the height of her prowess she completed custom-painted canvases by a Hungarian artist whom she learned of from a friend. One of her finest works was inspired by a postcard picture that I found at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She sent the postcard to Hungary to be painted on canvas; when it arrived back, she began stitching, interpreting all the nuances and colors. She blended many of the threads to make the finished product look more painterly than traditional needlepoint. Because mom used fine canvas, she was able to add a lot of depth and realism to the picture. The finished product is proudly hanging in my home where I have the pleasure of enjoying it every day. It took her three years of love and devotion to complete just that one picture.
After completing that picture, she kept on stitching, one piece after another. Walking into her home was like walking into a beautiful art gallery. All her work was ornately framed to complement each scene. Many pieces were given to her loved ones, and it is my hope to some day have them all professionally photographed and printed. It gives me great pleasure to share these pictures with you because obviously you love stitching just as much as my mom did.

Even though mom is not with us anymore, I will always have fond memories of her and her life, and I am comforted every time I see her magnificent pictures.” — Peter Varga.

I, too, had a mother who stitched. Her name was Carole Davenport, and she passed away three years ago. Before she became ill we took classes together, hunted down needlepoint shops wherever we traveled, and talked about the projects we were working on and what our needlepoint groups were doing. Mom and I lived almost 3,000 miles apart, but needlepoint kept us very close.
I have two sisters who are not needlepointers, but mom’s stitching is very dear to them too. She showered all who knew her with gifts that she had stitched. She didn’t go anywhere without a tote bag full of projects. Needlepoint was part of who she was, and therefore we covet her pieces because they were a part of her. Even though we think of needlepoint as “our” activity, it also is important to those who are dear to us.

Keep the thread in the needle,

Elizabeth

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