Maria’s humble potholders have risen to almost mythic status in the nearly 10 years that she has been making them.  The potholders have changed Maria’s life, mine too, I think. They were conceived in the dark days of the Great Recession and both of our struggles to survive as creative people in the midst of a number of traumatic personal crises.

Maria had given up her art, and had almost abandoned any hope of resuming it. Divorce and recession didn’t help.

When she sold her first potholder nine years ago, they were $9. Under intense financial and husbandly pressure, Maria reluctantly and gradually raised the to $15, which they cost now, plus shipping. She knows, as I do, that they are worth more but she is adamant about keeping them inexpensive enough so that everyone who wants one can buy them.

This is important to her, and thus to me. She very much wants her art to be accessible, and not out of reach of most people.

Over the years, more and more people have been sending her striking fabrics – like this one – that now shape and grace the potholders. And more and more people have been buying them, it is a kind of club, even a community.

And her fame is spreading. She was invited to India this February to teach some women there to earn a living making potholders and other fiber works people might buy there. For young women in India – Maria went to Kolkata – a trade can mean life or death.

The potholders have become a great symbol to us, although Maria now knows that she can also sell her quilts and hanging pieces and scarves. And she is an artist, even she doesn’t doubt it.

The potholders have earned a particular loyalty and a place in both of our hearts. At the time she started making them, Maria never believed anyone would buy anything she made, and for a few months, that was true. It was a scary time for both of us, my publishing life had also fallen apart, the potholders lifted our hopes and spirits. They seem hardy and unpretentious, it was exciting to see  how Maria had turned a potholder into an abstract and graceful art form.

Some are funny, some poignant, some political (remember the Penis potholder?), like the one, are just lovely. Maria’s calls this new series “The Little Window” Potholders. If you are interested in one, you can e-mail Maria at [email protected] and see them on her website. They are, of course, $15 plus shipping, and they will probably be $15 plus shipping for a while yet.

And because they are unique and crafted (and signed) and inexpensive, they have, as she hoped, found a place in the homes of all kinds of women all over the country and some of the world. People usually send her photographs of the potholders on their walls or in their kitchens (many people hang them up rather than use them.) They message her often and many have become friends.

I think the potholders saved her artistic career in some ways, at the time she started making them, nobody was buying anything, the nation was terrified about the economy. The potholders gave her strength and confidence to hang in there. She didn’t ask me about them, but I tried to support them in every way, I think they are wonderful and unique.

When Maria and I first got together, we started going to crafts fairs in New York and Vermont, setting up tents, hanging on for dear life in the wind, staying dry in the rain and warm in the cold. Mostly we watched people stroll by and not buy quilts, or hanging pieces.

The potholders are woven into Maria’s work and life. She has sold nearly all of them, she sometimes gives them away, she has kept a few for herself.

The potholders inspired us to break away from that model and turn to our blogs to sell our work and support our lives. Since then, she has sold every single one that she has made and put on sale. Today, I salute the humble potholder. They gave a very worthy artist the courage to hang on.