#artists I have known: Grandma Buckley

Grandma Buckley belonged to a generation of women who mastered handicrafts at an extraordinary level. Knitting, crocheting, rug-making—these were just the beginning. In her childhood, nothing was store-bought if it could be made by industrious hands. Girls were taught from a young age to avoid the shame of "idle hands, idle thoughts." Beyond practicality, there were specific handicrafts every young lady learned to prepare a proper dowry.

Grandma’s talents went far beyond the expected. She painted delicate porcelain, crafted intricate bobbin lace, embroidered detailed flowers and landscapes, quilted, and hemstitched napkins and tablecloths. Her home was a gallery of her handiwork, her cupboards brimming with treasures. Despite only completing a grade-six education, she carried herself with the grace and refinement of a true gentlewoman.

She was also a woman of profound faith. Grandma attended mass daily, sometimes more often on special holidays. Her faith was intertwined with her creativity—she was always crafting mittens, Christmas wreaths, quilts, jams, jellies, and baked goods to sell at church bazaars. At her funeral, an old friend shared a remarkable story: Grandma’s handmade goods were so admired at these events that they outshone all others. Initially, each woman had her own table or designated spot, but buyers flocked to Grandma’s wares, clearing her table within the first thirty minutes. To avoid embarrassment for the other contributors, the organizers eventually began spreading Grandma’s creations among the other displays, ensuring fairness in the sales.

What has always puzzled me is why Grandma’s artistry was never truly acknowledged, even within our family. She never sought praise and rarely received it. Was it because she was a woman, living in a time when only men were considered artists? Or was it because traditional handicrafts were dismissed as mere domestic labor rather than actual art?

Later in life, Peter became a remarkable writer and even rediscovered his love for playing Bach on the piano. Grandma’s creative spirit skipped over Pat and John but found it in Karen, Kim, D., and me. Without fanfare or formal lessons, she inspired us simply by living her art. Her gentle persistence as a role model shaped our lives in ways she likely never imagined.

Grandma Buckley may not have been celebrated as an artist in her time, but her legacy of creativity lives on in all of us who were touched by her life and work.