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A constructive addiction By JONEL ALECCIA Idle hands? Not Art Ricketts. The 69-year-old Medford man never could abide simply sitting, so when his wife brought home a 50-cent how-to book and a 3-inch plastic shuttle, he decided to try tatting. That was 20 years and several thousand yards of thread ago. Since then, the retired defense industry worker has developed an unlikely mania for the ancient method of making lace. "I think it's an addiction, that's what it is," says Ricketts, who has tatted hundreds of intricately looped and knotted articles ranging from doilies to baby bonnets. But unlike most addictions, Ricketts' thing for string has brought him praise, fame and prizes. This week, he'll receive first prize at the Oregon State Fair in the tatting division, triumphing over 18 of the state's top tatters. It'll mean welcome recognition and yet another blue ribbon to hang on his dining room wall. Since he first entered a tatted doily in the Los Angeles County fair in 1995, Ricketts has taken nothing but top honors. His tatted pieces are finely wrought works of art resplendent with loops and chains and serpentine coils, mostly made without patterns. "He's a fantastic tatter," says Nadine Purcell, head of the Siskiyou Lacemakers Guild. "It's a matter of understanding how those little half-hitches go together." Tatting dates back to perhaps the 15th century, when knotting thread into lace first became popular. Ricketts has read research that shows it began in Egypt, traveled to China, then to Italy, France, Germany and England. It arrived in America with the Pilgrims, who toted the portable and practical craft with them. Tatting mostly involves knowing how and when to tie the tiny knots that create "picot," or lace. "You just build and you build and you build," says Ricketts, who spends between 30 minutes and four hours most days on his projects. He's got more than 300 hours into his latest creation, an ecru lace centerpiece with a thick scalloped edge. Like all of Ricketts' tatted works, it's important to him because of what it offers. "There's a sense of accomplishment," says Ricketts. "I just don't like to sit and do nothing. I'd rather have something to show for the effort." So he takes his tatting with him everywhere, from shopping trips with his wife, Areta, to camping outings. He admits most folks are surprised at the sight of him with a lap full of lace. "I get a lot of wide-eyed expressions for someone of my size and my gender," says the tall, burly man. "I also taught my son to tat; you should see him." Ricketts' son, a 260-pound former police sergeant in Bakersfield, Calif., wields a wild shuttle as well, he says. "He's got a different style," he says. "His is not as tight as mine." Ricketts, who has displayed his talents at the Jackson County fair, will hold a demonstration at the state fair in Salem from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Thursday. He says he enjoys performing the intricate art in public. "Tatting is the only lace you can't make with a machine," he says, fingers flying with his shuttle. "I like the challenge of tatting. Not many people do it." Reach reporter JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465, or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.