The autumn season has always marked a time of new beginnings for me. Growing up in Oregon, I enjoyed the shift from hot summer months to cool, calm rain. The Oregon autumn is colorful — the leaves turn into an array of red, orange, yellow, and green shades. A simple glance outside the window of my childhood home was a scene fit for a landscape painting. The pitter patter of raindrops on the skylight of my mother’s tatreez studio, drinking a cup of tea and wearing crocheted booties she made me is the stuff of my dreams.
Some of my favorite memories are with my best friends, and all the years we would take long walks (and photoshoots), drinking a cup of hot coffee in the rain, wearing a pashmina and following paths lined with trees that rained their colorful leaves over our heads that tangled in our hair. The trees that line East and West Moreland Parks are most memorable, colorfully lining the highway that connects Milwaukie to Portland with a rainbow of foliage as we zoomed right through to get to school or work. It has been almost nine years since I left Oregon to the east coast, and there is nothing more comforting than my memories under those beautiful trees.
When I was a little girl, the fall also marked the start of the school year. Though I was bullied throughout all of public school, it still brought me great comfort and excitement to prepare my school supplies, anticipate all the learning I will experience with my new teacher, and immerse myself in my studies. Today, I have a three-year-old child who starts preschool tomorrow, in the midst of a global pandemic. New regulations require us to bid him farewell outside of the school front doors. They take our temperature outside, and if we pass the health screening, my son is escorted to class alone. As much as the new protocols satisfy the diligence necessary to keep everyone safe, it is nerve-wracking to imagine not being able to walk my son into class and sneak away while he begins to make friends with his new classmates.
As my son embarks on this new journey, I am also taking a moment to think of my own fresh beginnings, as well as reflect on the ways in which I invested my time in quarantine. I know that I have built a sustainable online business, grown as an instructor and practitioner, and met new people from all over the world who are as committed as I am to keeping Palestinian embroidery alive in the diaspora. I have so much gratitude to students who have helped amplify the work of Tatreez & Tea and reach new people. Thank you.
You have invested so much of your time in all of the virtual tatreez programs, and your practice has exponentially grown as a result. Thank you for investing in this work, and for believing in what I have dedicated my life to do. We have all enjoyed this unique time when we can learn Palestinian embroidery through a virtual community that fuses us from all ends of the earth to “Tatreez & Zoom”.
What have you learned throughout this quarantine? Take a moment to reflect on all the new skills you’ve acquired, and the projects you’ve created. This is your artistic practice. You have cultivated a space in your life that allows you to practice tatreez with meaning, and tell your stories through stitches. What would you like to learn in the future? We look towards the future with hope and a yearning to learn. As your instructor, I want to continue to provide unique and valuable learning experiences for you. What can you do to make your tatreez practice sustainable over the changing seasons? It is okay to ebb and flow in our practice of this art form, and find great comfort in this practice during colder months.
I have created a Tatreez & Tea “bingo” as a fun way to reflect on your tatreez practice. If you choose to fill it out, post it on social media and don’t forget to tag @tatreezandtea.
Love and solidarity,
Wafa
