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Patsy Weich is busy at work on her “Uncle Sam” rug in her home studio. Photo by Len Villano.

I walked into Patsy Weich’s cozy Ephraim home, which doubles as a working studio, one blustery spring afternoon. Weich, an energetic and totally huggable grandma, greeted me with gusto. She was a whirlwind of activity, immediately commencing a tour of her home. Hooked rugs were hung on what seemed like every available wall space.

“I’ve got rugs galore. It looks like postage stamps in here! These hooked rugs really have value,” said Weich. “But I don’t sell my work. I give it away. The reason I do that is because you really can’t get what it’s worth. It’s worth more for me to give it to my children. They all appreciate it. In the meantime, it’s a good example to show people.”

There were rug-hooked stool and pillow covers, hooked rugs draped over the couch, the chair, throw-rugs on the kitchen floor, rugs on top of rugs and half-finished rugs on the coffee table.

She ushered me into the dining room and drew my attention to a rug that featured a couple of lions lounging in the jungle. This one, she said, was an heirloom that could be over 110 years old. Lying on the dining room table was another rug, hooked in the same pattern with much brighter colors – the work of Weich’s granddaughter, Ashley.

The 110-year-old “Lion and Cub with Palms” rug made by Weich’s great-grandmother, Ella Gill, hangs on the wall while a new version created by Weich’s granddaughter, Ashley Prange, is held by Weich and her daughter Leslie – Ashley’s mother. Photo by Len Villano.

“I was able to get this old pattern shrunk and copied for my granddaughter. The original pattern is out of a Sears and Roebuck catalogue, one of the first of its kind,” she explained. “Before you could buy them, people made their own and they were primitive scenes: horses, dogs, and animals from the farm.”

Weich pointed out her “Silent Companion,” a standing hooked figure with a back-support; Santa Claus was the example. She also brought over a “Pig in a Poke,” which is a small stuffed potato sack with a hooked pig on the front.

“I was self-taught, got certified to teach in ’93, and have been teaching at The Clearing for the last 20 years; but hooking has really made a come-back in the last 15 years. I also do private classes,” said Weich. “I’m a fourth generation hooker, and then there’s my daughter, a fifth generation hooker, and granddaughter, a sixth generation hooker. All my work is original. My husband, Bob, draws the patterns.”

Weich did take one moment to call my attention to the only non-hooked item she had hanging on the wall: a framed and signed Donald Driver jersey.

It seemed the options for hooking were endless.

“You can pick your pattern, the size of your pattern, all your colors and your fabrics. It’s easy to be original and create your own design, and you have so much more versatility than with a kit. It’s one of a kind. You can’t make a print from it,” said Weich. “So many people that I’ve taught really go crazy – they love it. For some people, it changes their lives. I’ve taught people who became widowed and were very distraught. There are so many hooking groups, conventions, hook-ins…it creates a social network.”

“Old Quilt” rug and “Door County Cottage” rug, which was shown at the Hardy Gallery, are proudly displayed on Weich’s wall. Photo by Len Villano.

The history of hooking, according to Weich, began out of necessity. Rugs, like quilts, were quite costly, so people made them in their own time. They didn’t want to throw a piece of fabric away. They hooked their own rugs because they wanted them on their floor.

“The first hooked rugs probably had some cotton in them, some long johns. They used whatever they had, just like quilters,” Weich explained. “The fabric was so valuable. They would buy it and make clothing, which would be handed down through the family until it was tatters. Those tatters would go into rugs or quilt.”

Today, Weich uses mostly recycled wool in her rugs. She gets her material from thrift shops, garage sales, and warehouses. She buys anything that’s 100 percent wool, then dyes and processes it. “I love the fact that I’m doing it like they did it. It’s the real primitive rug hooking,” she said.

Donna Johnson, a student and friend of Weich’s for over five years, recalls meeting her at a wool sale Weich was hosting.

“It was fate that I went there that day! I ended up buying a book, we talked and talked, and I signed up for a private class,” said Johnson. “We just hit it off right away. Her teaching skills are absolutely incredible. She’s so knowledgeable.”

This fall will be Johnson’s fourth rug-hooking class at The Clearing. Weich caters to every individual in class, according to Johnson, and she teaches people of all ages, from different backgrounds and with different levels of experience.

Assorted crafts made by Weich adorn her rug hooking studio. Photo by Len Villano.

“Last year we had a gentleman in the class. We’re all such chatter bugs, since we’ve known each other for a number of years,” recalled Johnson. “We thought he’d have no fun at all, with these chattering women. But he took to it right away – he stuck with us! It was very fun.”

Michael Schneider, executive director at The Clearing, confirmed that Weich has quite a following.

“Rug hooking seems to be one of those arts that has seen a resurgence,” he said. “Patsy’s a good teacher, very patient and encouraging. The first year she taught a weeklong class it was full, and it has been every year since. Everyone here loves her.”

The historical significance of the fabric arts creates a joining force among its artists. It’s a social type of art, and hookers typically work together, in groups.

“One last thing about fabric arts – those are some of the most ancient artists I know – the fabric artists. They love it, and they make some beautiful things,” said Schneider.

Johnson agreed, “There tends to be quite a community, women or men, who have a fabric bond. You cling to each other, find each other in a crowd.”

As I took my leave of Weich, (long after our interview had finished, we continued chatting as she showed me pictures of her grandchildren, offered me chocolate, and introduced me to her new Boston terrier, Ike) she hugged me and said, “You come back and I’ll teach you to hook. You’ll love it. And bring your mom.”

For more information about Weich and her classes, contact her at 414.854.2555. To learn more about The Clearing or sign up for classes, call 920.854.4088 or visit http://www.theclearing.org.