I’ve always liked the term “needlewoman.” I fancy myself one, and I like to imagine all my female ancestors before me being ones, too. I considered naming this blog The Needlewoman, so I did a quick Google search to see if anyone else had a Needlewoman blog or website. That’s how I discovered this painting, which I can’t recall having seen before on any of my visits to the National Gallery. My husband claims she looks like me, but I’m not too sure about that. I certainly admire her cleavage, but probably our greatest similarity is that quiet attentiveness to the cloth in front of us. This painting definitely captures the essence of being a needlewoman.