A Legacy of Making

Tales of Sewing and the Legacy of Making in the I Am Prayerful Family Tree

There was a LOT of stitching going on in our house during the second half of 2021. I had scheduled a couple of open studio events to get the word out about I Am Prayerful and, being completely new to art/making/stitching, (whatever we are calling it), I had no idea how much material to produce. So I worked day and night for a few weeks drawing on many, many ideas in my blueprint book. During this time my thoughts turned increasingly to the makers and seamstresses who came before me, often stitching late into the night for a range of different reasons.

I've been interested in family history for some time, and have spent years working on our family tree. I found, with the help of other family members, that we can trace parts of it back to 17th century Nantes in France, where one Michel was a signwriter and upholsterer. We know he was involved in two trades because court records indicate that he wasn't paying his dues to one of the trade guilds!

Closer to home, one uncle and two aunts are artists working very successfully in their respective creative fields. Knowing that there are also hundreds of years of craft in our family line was of great interest and, as the tree unfolded, every new artistic link made me think a little differently about my family. A legacy of making indeed.

Today we're looking at a beautiful photograph of my Great Grandmother Ottilija (known to the family as Ottilie) as a young woman. She was born in Latvia and this portrait was taken in the early 1890s. I love the expression in her eyes, and a glimpse of her intriguing clothing. In those days, Latvia was part of Russia, and most people spoke French and German and the 6 or 7 different languages of neighbouring countries. We know Ottilie's family had connections to Latvian communities in St Petersburg and Novgorod in Russia, and travelled there regularly. Even in the late 19th century there were established trade routes to these locations from Latvia, with good road and rail access.

At some point in her childhood, Ottilie's family lived in an apartment building in Riga, and she made friends with the son of a neighbouring family. David became a merchant seaman and worked as a ship's carpenter on large vessels under sail moving goods around the world. In 1902, with David already working out of the port of London, the couple struck up a correspondence. Ottilie initially wrote to David in June 1902 asking a question for a friend. He responded (letter in the photo above) and they continued to write and rekindle their acquaintance over the next 4 years. By 1906 they had decided to make a life together, so Ottilija joined him in London and they were married in 1907.

Ottilie kept most of David's letters over the years, and the wonderful bundle of correspondence eventually found its way to me, passed on from a very kind cousin who also helped me have them translated into English. The letters revealed that Ottilie was a talented seamstress and craftswoman - a rich and interesting part of Latvian life to this day. David encourages her in his letters that these skills would be much in demand in England. Before she left Riga for London she purchased bolts of cloth and fabric supplies. I still have the bill of sale, and it's an interesting read.

At around the same time that the translated letters were coming through, I was in touch with the youngest of Ottilie's children; dear Uncle George, who had emigrated to Australia as a young man. He was able to tell me about his childhood in several long letters. It seems that money was always in short supply in the early years of Ottilie's marriage. The family lived in Hoxton for at least 5 years, while David made the transition from long voyages on sailing ships to shorter trips under steam. Many of his letters contain apologies for the delay in making the change, as his extremely long absences made life difficult for his wife and family at home. Life on board sail ships was very hard, and David often complained of the cold. Crew members frequently absconded at ports, which caused additional delays after goods and cargo had been loaded on board.

The family eventually moved to Laindon in Essex, around the time of WWI, where David maintained equipment on a nearby farm. Neighbours saw them as Russian (calling them 'Bolsheviks'), and not Latvian, and made life difficult for them. During the first World War there was an internment camp in Essex (perhaps on the site of the old workhouse in Billericay, or a temporary satellite camp) and Ottilie used to visit and take food to the internees because she spoke many languages, and many of them were German-speaking merchant seamen. I know that at times Otillie was in great financial difficulty, with four children to manage and her husband away at sea for extended periods. At one point, my great grandfather pawned his shore clothes to send a few shillings home to the family, and completed the remaining months at sea in his one remaining set of clothes; probably a thick wool jacket, vest, shirt and heavy broadcloth trousers. Even these coarse, heavy working fabrics are evocative as I carry on the textile work.

Uncle George confirmed to me that his mother was indeed a fine seamstress, and that she and her two older daughters used to make little white satin bows for extra money in the evenings. I think of them often when I'm stitching into the night to finish commissions, and wonder about the kitchen table where they worked, and how much light there might have been in the room.

Ottilie handed her skills down to my grandmother, of whom more in my next post, who in turn taught my mum to sew, making me and my daughter proud fourth and fifth generation stitchers.

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