Oh don't mind me!
(just trying to be normal)
Hello, Melody here.
Every time I sit down to write one of these, I have an internal struggle of “are we even allowed to talk about normal stuff right now?” It’s so hard to know. I do believe we all have to keep a little space for connection and reprieve amidst the madness, and it’s in that spirit that I’m showing up here. As I mentioned in my last newsletter, we’re all contending with everything at once, from terror and grief to weekend plans and dinner. It’s all so much, and it’s impossible to know how to navigate.
I’m here as an artist, hoping to build a tiny connection through my work and through sharing about my life. And when I’m sharing about my life, I have to decide how much to share and that’s not always easy! Like most everyone, I’m preoccupied right now with what’s happening in our country. I’m sad and horrified at the vast, chaotic abuse of power. One of my best skills (great problem solving!) is also my toxic trait (obsessively needing to “fix” everything). I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not able to “fix” much of anything, but that I can also be helpful in small ways and hope that these little acts add up to something. I’m grateful to writers like Anne Helen Petersen who recently has opened each newsletter with a call for mutual aid. Today we’re helping the families of Justice Page Middle School in SW Minneapolis who are sheltering in place, due to risk of extreme violence or abduction. If you’re curious, she is collecting money here and will document her donation.
I was raised in an unhappy home. Frankly, it was a chaotic, abusive, and sometimes violent home. My illusion of safety was ruptured at a very young age and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to heal from that. Maybe you know what that’s like. Or if you don’t, I’ll bet you know what it’s like to be impacted by something hard - to carry grief or trauma, or fear. I know we’re all carrying a lot right now, and many of us, most of us, are doing our best, and are carrying invisible and incredibly heavy loads.
Over the last years I’ve created a body of work that looks a lot more cheerful and playful than I often feel. In fact it is cheerful and playful in ways that I can only aspire to, and it stands in stark contrast to our current environment. But that’s the point! I am using my work to cultivate connection and joy. My childhood ended too early, but I have created work that speaks to the child inside of me (and hopefully to the child inside of you!) Last month I did my first in-person craft fair and there was something really powerful about standing back and seeing how vibrant and colorful and *happy* my booth looked. It soothes something inside me to put a little lightheartedness and joy out into the chaotic world. I’ll leave you with some images.
For anyone attending Quilt Con, safe travels, and I look forward to seeing you there!





Thank you for sharing your words with us!
I totally get what you are saying - and the insight into your childhood makes me look at your art through a different lens (although I’ve loved it even before I knew who Melody Miller was).
I do have a question though - is there ever a desire to release a “moody” line of fabric? Like something not so happy? I ask because Sarah asked the other day what I was interested in seeing - and I told her I’ve been obsessed with her Santa Fe line recently - it’s beautiful and moody at the same time and in these times it makes me feel something without being overwhelmed (if that makes sense). I’d love to see a Ruby Star line that feels that way.