(content warning – mentions end of life)
I started this over two years ago, and finished it last week.

30,000 straight stitches on vintage silk, taken from various handmade silk lingerie garments, backed with soft brushed cotton. The number of stitches is equal to the number of days in the life of someone who has lived to the age of (just over) 82, which is a reasonably optimistic estimate of average life expectancy in this country. It’s not a memorial of a particular individual; more a general reflection on (or of) human life.

I’ve used hand-dyed silk and cotton threads, mostly equivalent to perle 8 or 12, and changed colour after completing each set of 365 stitches (every four sets I added an extra stitch to account for leap years). There are 532 (and a bit) rows. The whole work measures 6 inches (15cm) wide, and 22.5 feet (6.9m or 271 inches) long.
I counted the stitches and rows as I went along, to keep a running total and to keep track of the beginning and ending of each year block. I didn’t start a new row for each year.

If there were seams, buttonholes, buttons, lace, or rust stains on the silk as I carefully deconstructed the garments, I left them in. That’s life.



I didn’t expect to become so emotionally invested in it. There was a distinct moment of sadness and even a little shock as I placed the last stitch. While a life as long as this is to be celebrated as well as mourned, I couldn’t help but think of all the other, shorter, lives that end too soon.

The briefest moment separates life and death. I can totally understand the Greeks’ idea of the three Fates, and Atropos cutting the thread of life.
Until that day, of course we go on.
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Just…wow.
it surprises me too
Stunning. And so incredibly moving… I agree, “all lives end too soon.” What a lovely way to incorporate a life!
thanks so much, Kat
Just amazing and so reflective ! Just days and years …
so many and yet so few…
I imagine that with each stitch this endeavor could be a very loving and gentle way to honor ones feelings of loss and grief. Thank you for sharing.
I think so, Sheila, yes – coincidentally (or perhaps not) an old friend died a couple of weeks ago having reached almost exactly this age. Seeing a visual representation of how long her life really was is helping.
Karen, what a delicate expression of one’s mortal destiny. So much feeling in this, I’m sensing a tenderness of life, it brings forth such a deeper awareness of existence and the journey. So exquisite!
thanks so much. It’s become much more than it was when I set out – I guess that’s life too…
Karen, this is just beautiful both your stitching and your words. xo
thanks so much Lori
That’s wonderful Karen! 💙💙💙
thanks so much Pam ❤️
82 seems young! At least here in Canada and now I’m off on a rabbit hole. Maybe it’s just young in my family.
82 in Canada. My dad was 93 and my Mom is 97 and counting.
I know what you mean – my father-in-law is into his nineties. More days is a good thing.
I am so enamoured with this project I can hardly express it.
I’m working on something that has to do with time (right now I’m in the sketchbook phase of it) and this is encouraging me. It won’t be anything like this at all, but it’s inspiration all the same.
And as we’ve talked about before, it’s good to see it all laid out there. I’m about 3/4 of the way through this, a bit more. It’s amazing to think I’ve lived all those days.
And finally, I am so sorry about your friend. No matter the person’s age, it is never, ever long enough. Especially not for a dear one. My condolences, Karen.
You were absolutely right, Em – it changes you, seeing something like this laid out visually. Like I said, you’re very wise.
I had a similar moment as I stitched past my own age (not quite three-quarters through) and started to look at my own life from a different viewpoint. We’re so accustomed to looking backwards at what we already know.
Good luck with your project. Time is such an engaging subject for contemplation and visual depiction. And thank you too for your kind words about my friend. It’s a shock every time I realise I’ll never see her again. She was a very talented artist and has left many wonderful works. I guess it’s the work that’s truly timeless.
Thank you for that.
It is so shocking when people are gone. I have many who still come to mind, sometimes with such vividness that I feel as thought I could have a conversation. (And sometimes I do, one-sided as it is.) Again, so sorry.
In the last ten days, and today especially for some reason, I am thinking again of this project of yours. It truly is impactful.
Amazing thanks for sharing
thanks so much Patricia
My sympathies. But my word, what a thoughtful, gentle, but powerful way to honour a life.
And on a practical note – all that record keeping! I am in awe!
thanks so much. I confess the record-keeping did get me in a tangle on many occasions. Lots of recounts, with copious use of eraser and calculator. I should really do a final re-check from the beginning but I think I probably have better things to do 🙂
I am in awe of your ideas, stitching and patience Karen. Such a beautiful piece of work that is triggering so many thoughts for you and everyone who views it. Life really is precious, thinking of you as you adjust to living without your dear friend. Thank goodness for memories.
Fiona.
Thanks so much, Fiona. Yes indeed, thank goodness for memories that live on. We’ll be celebrating her life next week so it will be good to exchange stories.
Such a simple idea and a powerful metaphor, beautifully executed. I love how the colour shifts through the seasons of life. And it’s given me a new descriptor for the rust stains and buttonholes of life! 😌
Thanks so much 😊 ha, those rust stains and buttonholes of life…