When Your Talent Finds You

It happened to me...once. Only once in my life. I had said to Mum, “Well, if I don’t learn tatting from you now, one day it’ll be too late.” She wholeheartedly agreed.

Mum had wanted to teach me tatting, a skill passed down through the family on our mother’s side for generations. And I wanted to learn. The problem was, I can’t remember knitting, crochet, macrame—none of it. I’ve tried numerous times. I’ve knitted squares, and immediately after forget everything. The next day, I can’t even remember how to attach the wool to the needle. As I write this, I still cannot remember, and I’ve been shown dozens upon dozens of times. Knitting, crochet, embroidery—it all escapes me.

One afternoon, sitting down facing each other, Mum gave me my first tatting shuttle. It was easy to wind, kinda noisy, plastic, and had a metal hook at the end—better for beginners, as the other kind she preferred required more practice. I wound the tatting thread. She showed me each step. In eight minutes I was tatting. She was surprised. Mum gave me a few of her older 1960s and 1970s tatting books. That evening I was tatting with four shuttles, something Mum had never done. I started inventing patterns, some with beaded tatting, and designing small medallions. All this in one afternoon and that evening. Mum was amazed. I’ve never for a moment lost the ability. To this day, I tat in my sleep. It’s been something extra special ever since Mum died.

How could I learn a skill so fast? Why? I never had before, not like this. Was she an amazing teacher? Yes, although why couldn’t she teach me to knit? My only guess is having grown up watching her tat I already had learned, in a way; yet if this is true, why can’t I knit? I’m positive this will forever be a mystery.

Tatting is something my brain inherently understands. And it’s wonderful. It’s like music. It has a beat, a rhythm, different instruments, and a chorus. I count stitches and patterns like I count music. Tempo can increase and decrease in one pattern. It’s a good thing I enjoy a little of all types of music. I don’t need to write down the string I’m working on. It’s easy to create and memorize a rhythm. Like music, tatting for me brings a similar peace and relaxation. It’s meditative, giving me one thing to focus on, although it’s not uncommon listening to music while tatting. A tan thread and wooden beads are like folk, traditional, or meditative music, black thread and dark shiny beads are gothic, moody, or intense, where using brightly coloured threads and beads are a lighthearted dance. This is how tatting feels.

Thread specifically for tatting is rather fine, stiff, ideal for delicate or tiny projects such as miniatures, yet it can be too fine depending on the goal. Crochet thread can be quite thick, making the individual knots easier to see and tatting easier to learn—and undo mistakes. Thicker thread is nice for larger beads. I’ve also tatted with embroidery thread, string, and wool. For wool, I didn’t use a shuttle, just a small ball of yarn; the shuttle couldn’t hold enough. One day, I hope to make a type of sweater.

All this I learned on my own. While my lace strings are not as refined as what decades of experience provide, it’s fun, playful and intensely satisfying. It’s more than a hobby, less than a profession. It’s the type of experience which makes life worth living.

Tatting has become a precious gift inherited from my mother. It’s one of the few times in life to be glad you did something before it was too late. Thanks, Mum.