My mom—Emilia Gawron—loved flowers. They were always present in our home in one form or another—in vases, on windowsills, on tablecloths, napkins, and clothes… From my childhood, the first image that comes to mind when I think of my mom is a woman in a pink floral dress, and she stayed that way until the end—she always chose floral clothing…

My mom taught me everything that, in the broadest sense of the word, falls under the category of “handicrafts”—sewing, embroidering, crocheting, knitting—she could do IT ALL! No stitch was beyond her. Back when there wasn’t much to buy in stores, she always dressed us in pretty dresses made of calico, linen, bistor, dederon, or cotton—often sewn by her—and sweaters, hats, “neck warmers,” leg warmers (depending on the latest fashion trends), gloves, and socks were standard and a given in our home. She liked things to be “pretty,” always “coordinating,” so that “everything matched”…

DEMENTIA—it’s a cruel word that often changes everything in many people’s lives. Unfortunately, the last four years of my mother’s life were marked by this disease. It was a race against time and an attempt to save what remained of her memory, her humanity, and her dignity… As part of her occupational therapy, I bought her yarn so she’d have an activity that would bring her joy, offer a bit of relaxation, and improve her fine motor skills. However, the disease was relentless and slowly took that ability away from her as well. Despite this, I collected all the “creations” that Mom had managed to make, because their sentimental and personal value to me was immense, even though at the time I didn’t yet know why I was doing it. At first, I couldn’t believe that of all the things her mind was capable of, in the end all that remained were basic stitches—and even those were full of mistakes… I didn’t know what I would do with them, but I knew that something would surely come of it. I still wanted to use these hand-made crafts to pull my Mom back from this disease, to somehow save her, to save what was truly “HER” within her.

After some time, an idea began to take shape in my mind for “that something” that my Mom’s hands had once knitted. At first glance, it didn’t make sense, but something began to “sprout” in my head; something was taking shape… I decided that we would do something TOGETHER - I would create our shared artwork. My linocuts and my Mom’s “knits” adorned with flowers. The idea for the series “Snatched from Dementia - For My Mom” was born. These were to be the last “flowers” she brought into my life… This time, it wasn’t her - she didn’t bring them from the garden to my vase, she didn’t sew them onto a dress, she didn’t knit them into a new sweater - but I wanted to give them to HER...

She saw the first two… I made it in time. “Nice, nice, I like them,” she said, and two weeks later she passed away…

Urszula Gawron-Leśniara
Nowy Sącz, June 3, 2025