Testing and a Scavenger Hunt

The dog is much improved, and I've made progress on the baby quilt for the new grand-niece. The sample block went together well. As I mentioned in my response to the creativity questions in the last post, I do sometimes revert to using someone else's pattern, and that is what I'm doing here. I wanted to try a method by Sheila Murphy as explained in the spring issue of American Quilter. She calls it the "quilt, cut, flip, and reattach" method of making drunkard path blocks. Essentially, it's a twist on "quilt as you go", and I have to admit there's a great attraction to any method that allows you to do the quilting in small sections. When you're done, you're done, is how I look at it, although there's always the chance a method like this will take more time than if you'd just done it the old fashioned way. Here's how my sample block went.

You start by layering a backing square, a batting square and a top square - all cut at 11" - and quilting it any way you want. I decided to put on my walking foot and do a variety of channel quilting - this first one with wavy lines spaced the width of the foot.

With cotton batting, you can just about get away with no basting, although I added a few straight pins for security. I'm using Superior King Tut thread, green #988 in the top and yellow #982 in the bobbin.

Next, you cut an arc using one of several size templates. I used construction paper weight graph paper and a sharpie pen to draw the cutting line, then cut with scissors. If you had a proper template, this could be cut with a rotary cutter.

Now you flip the cut out section to expose the "back".

Before reattaching the two sections, bias binding is sewn to both front and back of the cut-out in one step. The author implies this can be done without pinning, but I preferred to keep the three pieces aligned with a little help. One binding is slightly wider than the other.

Now the two sections of the block are butted together and held in place with some sort of bridging stitch. She suggests dropping the feeddogs and doing a looping darning stitch, but would allow folks like me to keep our feeddogs up and employ a simple zigzag stitch. To keep the sections from shifting during stitching, she suggests using drafting tape across the join. Drafting tape apparently is less sticky than masking or painter's tape, but of course, I had none on hand. Instead, I'd bought some Duck brand Perfect Release painter's tape which is meant for more delicate surfaces. I'm guessing it would be very similar to the drafting tape and worked fine for me. You pull it off before sewing over the section it is holding in place, and it can be reused a number of times before it loses its grip.

Now the top binding can be finger-pressed into place covering the join and top-stitched down.

And finally, the bottom binding gets the same treatment. Because it is slightly wider than the top binding, the bobbin threads provides a little echo quilting near the edge of the top binding. I was a bit surprised that she would not have you stitch through both bindings at the same time, but perhaps that would be more difficult to pull off than I think.

Now that I know this method works, I can see that with assembly line sewing of the different steps, it should go quite quickly. The original quilt has 64 blocks; my smaller version will have 20. Even so, I ran into a snag finding enough fabric on hand for the 40 11" squares I would need. So much of my fabric is fat quarters, not regular yardage, and to my chagrin, I could only get one square out of each of them, although I have enough left for some of the binding strips. This took me on an archaeological dig into every nook and cranny where I've stored fabric, and then some boxes with fabric set aside for specific projects. Oh, my...I ran across one ancient collection for which I had no recollection of why it'd been grouped and stored, that is until I found some paper pieced house blocks tucked in the middle. I truly pity the poor person who must deal with all this after I'm gone! I was successful though in coming up with enough pink and green fabric to make my 20 blocks. Next step...marathon quilting!

An Unexpected Distraction

I had planned an ambitious day in the studio, getting to work on the quilt for my new niece. Instead, I was up half the night with Jesse, seen here regally guarding her property. Last night, she was trying to stand up and failing. It looked like a balance problem, but at her ripe old age of 13, I can never be sure that this isn't it. For someone who is not a morning person, it was quite something to be up calling the emergency number for the vet at 5:45, then dressed and out the door with her by 6:30. To my brother, who sees me as this independent, strong woman of pioneer stock, this time you may be right. Who knew I could actually heft nearly 60 pounds of dog and carry her out to the car? Fortunately, I panicked unnecessarily; her problem is indeed one of balance - an inner ear problem that is making her world spin and for which there is no pill or procedure; it will clear up on its own in about a week. In the meantime, the vet gave her a sedative, and yes, there is one thing worse than a staggering, falling down dog; a drugged staggering, falling down dog. She slept most of the morning, then became clingy like a sick child. So while I got the parts for a sample block cut out, that's all I got done. The rest of my day was spent catnapping or consoling a very confused dog. I'm hoping things will go better tomorrow.

In the meantime, Sally (Feather on a Wire) has tagged me, and it is an interesting one. May as well get something productive done today!

1. When did you start and make craft?

I think I was 4 or 5 when I dug out a scrap of fabric, a needle and some floss and tried my hand at embroidery. I've been trying out different crafts ever since.

2. Why did you start creating?

I'm not sure. My mom never felt she was any good at that sort of thing, although she did the obligatory tea towels and sewed some clothing. It wasn't like she was showing me how to do things. I just got interested, and if the supplies were hanging around, I'd give it a go. My aunt gave me a little instruction on knitting, but I pretty much taught myself everything else from pamphlets or magazines. Maybe it was partly because my brothers were quite a bit older than me and we didn't live close to anyone, so there weren't other kids to play with. So I made my own entertainment. Still doing that today.

3. Why do you create?

I get a great deal of personal satisfaction in making my own things, figuring out how to do things, having something different from what everyone is buying in the stores. The process is usually my focus more so than the end product, so I'm usually not in a big rush to get something done. Trying new things, figuring out how to make something work, the exhilaration when I'm successful, those are some of the reasons I create. My head has always been full of ideas sparked by what I'm seeing around me. I also create because part of the process, the hand work usually, has a calming effect on me. Whatever problems I may be having in my life, they seem to fly from my head once I take needle and thread in hand, and start the repetitive process of stitching.

4. What do you create?

Mostly quilts for quite a while now, but I am getting back into knitting and crocheting a bit now too. Just simple things like scarves and shawls. My most recent experimentations with quilts seem to be taking me away from an actual quilt. Machine embroidery, or just plain stitching without batting is starting to interest me.

5. How has this changed since you began crafting?

I used to only use patterns, never designing my own, but often personalizing with a change of color. I didn't have the confidence or could see how to design my own sweaters, for instance. I tried just about everything: knitting, crochet, embroidery, crewel work, cross stitch, needlepoint, rug hooking. But once I got into quilting, I found I could design, and patterns were only a jumping off point for me. Now I feel guilty if I use a pattern in any way, although I occasionally do. The majority of my work now is original designs. I so fell in love with quilting, that I eventually dropped all the other needlecrafts to concentrate on quilting. I suppose something else that has changed is that I no longer create things to either keep or give away. I'm now selling some of my creations.

Thanks, Sally, for giving me a chance to think about these things. It's all part and parcel of my creative journey. Now for the lucky ones I get to tag: Nikki, Pat, Felicity, Margaret, Anne.

Percolating

Here's something that caught my attention on the bike trail recently. I don't know what plant the white berries are from, but there are bunches of them. I thought it was interesting the way they popped off the tan backdrop - sort of the taupe palette thing I've read about lately. I know quite a few quilters who like to work in this monochromatic color scheme. But I must admit, I was thinking it might be a little blah for an art quilt. Then I noticed little pops of red around the central cluster of white berries. These were a surprise and I thought they were just what a piece would need to add interest to an otherwise neutral palette. They add more than just an accent, I think. They add something unexpected. I thought about how Joen Wolfrom teaches that every thing you need to know about color you can learn from observing nature.

So I brought a sample of each color home and proceeded to match them to fabric in my stash. The white berry (sitting on the brown fabric at the bottom) turned out not to be white after all, not even cream really. It has a slight greenish tint to it. The rose hip is my very favorite shade of red. And the dried-up fern plays to my love of brown neutrals. I think I'm going to try something abstract, but I haven't quite settled on how to approach it yet.

In the meantime, today heralds the arrival of a grandniece. Yikes, that makes me feel old. I just realized I've been thinking of this baby as a niece, but in fact, her father is my nephew. No matter, there aren't many females on this side of the family, so we welcome her heartily. And of course, a girly pink quilt is in order! This is actually a pretty poor picture of a variety of pinks I pulled from my stash today. I noticed that the little girl's mother has decorated with green and yellow accents, different from my thought of adding purple to the pink. I really liked the way it looked so have a few laid out here too.

Puttering

I'm in that wonderful stage between projects. All decisions and work is done and I'm contemplating what to dive into next. In the meantime, I'm puttering: sorting and filing and putting away all that has been strewn about the studio while the last project was in progress; catching up on everyday life chores, like laundry, vacuuming, clearing off tables. The stacks really accumulate and can get quite scary! No end to the little things that get set aside but eventually need attending to. This downtime from creating is actually a very creative time. I find with the pressure off, the intensity of focus on completing a project gone, my subconscious is percolating with new ideas and letting them bubble to the surface. Like I need new ideas, but there they are and I'm not going to set them aside this time.

I'm also catching up on my reading, another endless source of inspiration for me. The picture above comes from a Smithsonian Magazine article about Singapore. When I turned the page, I wasn't sure what I was looking at, but the image knocked my socks off. Those shapes and colors! They didn't look like they could possibly be of anything real. But on closer inspection, I could see that this is a nighttime shot of loading docks. Now, I don't intend to reproduce this picture, but it is giving me ideas about color combinations if nothing else.

Also grabbing my attention: Art.com has added me to their mailing list and I received my first catalog in the mail yesterday. Oh, my - there is an awful lot of decent art out there, and poring over the catalog is a mini lesson in color and design theory. I find it much easier to study the pieces in catalog form than on the web. I'll keep this one for future reference.

Photography

I absolutely hate taking pictures of my finished quilts. I don't have the right set up really. There's no place in my house, no clear wall space with good enough light where I can get far enough away for the bigger ones, no portable design wall to pin it to. I'm too cheap to invest in the kind of lighting to properly take the indoor shots. And setting up outside is often a crap shoot. Even if I manage a time when the sun isn't beating down or my best area in the shade, then there's wind to contend with. I've ditched the use of my old Canon TX now that slides are rarely called for, but rue the fact that I didn't get a digital camera with "real" lenses. I'm constantly contending with dark areas at the corner of my shots and distortions curving my otherwise straight quilt edges. I also find that some colors do not translate accurately in the digital medium. However, the great advantage to digital is that you know the shortcomings of your shots immediately, and can keep trying.

So I've been dragging my feet about taking the final really good pictures of the angel quilt, knowing I'd have to set up outside to do it, and also knowing how time consuming it would be. I have a quilt display stand and a grey cloth to use as a backdrop, but it is such a pain to set up. And it is getting pretty chilly, even when the sun peaks out. I put it off yesterday, hoping today might be a better day. Actually, it was - overcast and mostly calm, but very cold. I almost avoided it again, trying to convince myself that I could get shots after hanging it in the church tomorrow. But no, the lighting is even worse there, I fear, so I sucked it up.

It helped that I allowed myself to cheat. As you can see, I hung it on the outside of the shed in my backyard. I know I can Photoshop the background out of my pics, so all I needed was something with a bit of contrast and that I could push my push pins into to rest the dowel on. Then it was set up the camera on a tripod and experiment with the various settings while my fingers froze. I shouldn't have bothered; the auto setting gave as good if not better shots as any of my manual settings. The pictures came out pretty good, the colors true, and they are high enough resolution to meet any need, although I don't plan on sending this around anywhere.

Thanks for the positive comments. Wanda reminded me that I meant to tell you how big this quilt is. I have named it, "Angel of the Rock" and it is 30 inches wide by 36 inches long. The label has lots of information on it, including inspiration for the design and quotations from the dedication service of the new location of my church (my reason for making it). I printed it on muslin using my dot matrix printer. That ink is permanent once heat set. I used to struggle with keeping my label edges square since I'd iron under the raw edges by eye. Then I had one of those "duh" moments, and started using a ruler to pencil in the turn line so that I had the perfect guide. I also realized I could use basting glue instead of pins to hold it in place, which makes the hand sewing much easier.

Now, on to other things!

Coming to the end...

It's amazing to me how many little details crop up as I approach the end of a project. Every time I think this quilt is done, I think of something else that needs doing.

I almost let my stubbornness overshadow my better judgment again. When I put the last of the beads on this yesterday late, I so wanted to be done. But that piping around the arbor area had been bugging me ever since I did the quilting. It no longer lay nicely along that seam, but puckered and rippled and stuck out over the unevenness created by the quilting. The thought of another delay to hand stitch the loose edge down was almost more than I could stand. But I knew I'd never be happy if I didn't give it a go, see if indeed tacking it down would make it look better. So I spent the time today, using the YLI heirloom silk thread to make the stitches as unobtrusive as possible, and it was definitely worth the effort.

But I wasn't done yet. In the course of handling, the edge had stretched a bit, some of the fused leaves had lifted, other fused areas had frays needing a trim. I still needed to make and sew on a hanging sleeve as well as compose, print and sew on a label. After all that, it will need one final steaming and passes with a lint roller. I took care of most of that - just the label, blocking and de-linting left, so I thought I'd snap a quick picture to show you the end results. Click on the picture for a larger view to see more detail. And here is a shot of a beading detail I hadn't shown yet.

October Journal Quilt

I worked on my journal quilt this weekend...what a concept, completing October's quilt in October! Been awhile since there hasn't been a conflict on the regularly scheduled Saturday. Also been awhile since my journal partner has been able to join in, but she too found she could work on a journal quilt this weekend. Will post her results later.

I struggled a bit with this month's calendar theme of Awareness, not because I couldn't think of a way to portray it, but rather because most of the ideas I was coming up with were merely rehashing of things I'd already tried. And I have a rule about journal quilts being a place to try out new things, stretch myself, not merely be a place for practice. The Thomas Mann quotation that went along with the theme emphasized the importance of this: "Hold every moment sacred. Give each clarity and meaning, each the weight of thine awareness, each its true and due fulfillment." I'd need to find something worthy to work on. But I couldn't think of anything new I wanted to try. Could I really have explored all I wanted to explore?

Hardly. I remembered the copy of "Exploring Textile Arts" sitting on my shelf and pulled it down. Within just a few pages, the juices were flowing again and I found several things that excited me. I eventually settled on Random Fabric Weaving. The book showed examples using curved strips, but I thought perhaps I could simplify things by cutting my strips with straight edges. It was suggested to sketch out the weaving design to get a sense of how wide to cut the strips and how many might be needed. Here's mine with a little addition of colored pencils

Then it was on to fabric selection. My work table is still laden with fabric used or considered for the angel quilt and my eye went to the one used for the angel's tunic. I thought it might make interesting vertical strips and started pulling other fabrics based on those I saw in it. But it wasn't long until I ran across another fabric I thought would work better. The tunic fabric got set aside, but it was a good place to start.

Here I'm cutting the 1/2 inch strips for the "warp." I had an idea that they could mimic the warp threads in pin weaving - another method in the book that I considered.

These were pinned over a piece of Decor Bond (fusible side up). Then I started cutting wider, angled pieces from my selection of fabrics, and the weaving began. Because all edges were straight, I didn't have to stack fabric in order to get nesting edges. However, I found the weaving took a lot of time partly because the strips weren't easily nesting. I did a lot of pinning for the first few rows. Once all the weaving was complete, I applied a hot iron to start the fusing process, then flipped the piece over to finish fusing from the back.

This was as far as I got the first day. We're not supposed to work on these more than one day, but I'd wasted half of my day just coming up with an idea, then the weaving process took much longer than I anticipated. So Sunday afternoon found me completing the quilting. Because of the raw edges, each strip needs to be sewn down along each edge. I tried to adapt a meandering stitch so I'd only have to make one pass down each "row" where strips abutted, but I couldn't come up with an adjustment that pleased me. I tried several other bridging type stitches, but everything was too heavy, too much visually. If I'd been smart, I would have wound some of the YLI 40wt cotton quilting thread I'd chosen onto a bobbin so I could have used a twin needle. But for some reason I decided that was too much work along with then having to adjust tension. So I made two passes and spent nearly 3 hours quilting this! Oh, another thing that made it take longer was the fact that in the middle of the piece, I changed the weaving pattern so that the yellow strips straddled two warp strips and I didn't want to stitch through that. So there was a lot of starting and stopping as you can see from this picture of the back (click on any picture for a larger view). I used the "fix" function on my machine, which merely stitches back and forth very closely for a few stitches before taking off. I don't normally like to use this because I don't trust that it truly fixes the stitch and partly because it usually leaves a mess like this on the back. But no way was I going to spend time pulling threads to the back, tying and burying them. I finished off the edge with a standard butted binding in the same fabric as the vertical strips.

Although I like the way this turned out, especially the design created by the wedge shapes, there were several things I didn't like about the method itself. Primarily, it was so time consuming that I couldn't help thinking it would have been easier and faster to get the same effect with a piecing technique. I also didn't like dealing with the occasional fraying. I know some use this method by applying a fusible to the fabric before cutting, and I can see the merit in that approach. Perhaps I'll try the curved strips in a larger format and see if it produces an effect that I feel could not easily be achieved another way.

Distractions & Progress

I don't remember the lilac leaves from last fall, know that I took no pictures. So I was surprised to see how they had reacted to the shortening of the days. I've had a bit of a problem adhering to my goal of putting in daily studio time, no matter how long or short. Temperatures shot up, skies cleared, and suddenly there was a two-day weather window in which to get some work in the garden done. Ah well, I was back on track today.

I knew the top of the angel quilt needed something, and this, apparently, was it.

It not only provided balance at the top of the quilt, but balanced the additional beading I wanted to add to the tunic. I think I'll also scatter a few of these beads along the side border seam. And then I may be done...

Beading

I've been eking out a little time here and there to add a few beads to the angel quilt. Oh, my...I'd forgotten how addictive beading can be, and that there is no such thing as adding "just a few" beads to a project. All it took was getting out my bead stash to find these sparkly ones for the sky and water, and suddenly I was reminded of other wonderful beads in my collection. I'm contemplating beading along the top binding, beading along the angel's tunic, beading along the seam between the border & arbor (where I'd thought about using metallic thread and then didn't). It is slow contemplative work that sweeps me away.

I had a busy weekend, starting with another symphony concert Friday night, a quilt show on Saturday and a long chat with a friend on Sunday. Thus the "eking" out of time for the beading. It's part of my current approach to getting more done, putting in more studio time. I've made it a point to do something, no matter how small, at least 5 days a week. No waiting for a big chunk of time, no making excuses about how other responsibilities are using up the time I should have spent in the studio. Whether it's been 15 minutes or an hour that might be free, I've fought the urge to say it's not enough time to get anything done. And often as not, the 15 minutes stretches into 30, the hour into two. Amazing what we can convince ourselves of, both good and bad.

Speaking of convincing, I'd convinced myself that I would ignore the vendors at the quilt show. But old habits die hard, and I succumbed to this nifty tote bag pattern (designed by Sheryl Mycroft of Random Threadz) and a fat quarter of marbled fabric (by Suzi Soderlund of Marbled Arts).

Doris Lessing

I love it when I find myself in good company...

A good friend frequently asks me why I'm so hard on myself. This is usually after I've gone through a fallow period and I'm berating my general lack of discipline and comparing my lifestyle to what I consider the norm. And if I don't measure up to that norm (which in fact, may not be as much the norm as I convince myself), then I start feeling worthless and insecure. But what does it matter, my friend asks? If I'm not accountable to anyone else (like a boss, or kids or a husband), then what difference does it make if I stay up late, sleep in, only work a few days a week in the studio? I've always found it a bit hard to explain it, or more precisely, put my finger on what in my background has produced this behavior of mine. Why do I get so bothered and start losing self esteem when I have little tangible to show for my days? Why can't I just enjoy life as it comes? I don't know, but I do know that I get very unhappy if I go too long without making something - be it a quilt or some other textile thing fashioned from my hands. It's just the way I am.

So it made me feel much better when I saw part of an interview with recent Nobel Prize winner and author, Doris Lessing. (See complete transcript here.) The interviewer, Bill Moyers, asked, "Do you never stop writing?" Her answer describes exactly how I feel about my quilting:

"No. I'm compulsive. And I deeply think that it has to be something very neurotic. And I'm not joking. It has to be. Because if I've finished a book, and this wonderful release, which I'm now feeling-- it's off, it's in a parcel, it's gone to a publisher. Bliss and happiness.

I don't have to do anything. Nothing. I can just sit around. But, suddenly it starts, you see. This terrible feeling that I am just wasting my life, I'm useless, I'm no good. Now, it's a fact that if I spend a day busy as a little kitten, racing around. I do this, I do that. But I haven't written, so it's a wasted day, and I'm no good. How do you account for that nonsense?"

So I am in good company and should probably quit worrying about this compulsion of mine that leaves me out of sorts and feeling bad about myself when I'm not actively engaged in it. It may be nonsense to act that way, and like Lessing, I can't account for it. But there's no denying, it's the way I am.

Getting Back Into It

Today I worked on an entry form for a juried exhibition. I swore off entering shows as I prepared to relocate, got settled in, and decided I just needed to work for awhile without the distraction of upcoming show deadlines. When I did think about getting into exhibits, it seemed like way too much work, or too costly, or I feared my work might not measure up. I wasn't sure what direction my work might take and I think I feared being stereotyped. I worried a lot about the image I'd be projecting and whether I might find myself known for something I didn't want to get stuck with forever.

I seem to have turned a corner, though. Whether it's renewed confidence in myself, and thus my work, the change of season, or just that the self-imposed break from competition has done what it needed to do, I find myself eager to get my work out there again. This particular call for entries did not require a lot of paperwork, and the jpg's were pretty much ready to go. I could go back two years when selecting what to submit, and there was more good stuff there than I expected to find. I could enter up to three pieces for the same entry fee so I chose two older works and one new. Wish me luck.

News to Me

This headline in the Sunday newspaper outdoor section caught my eye: Paper keeps outdoor thoughts dry. Reading on brought to light a product I had no idea existed - all-weather writing paper called "Rite in the Rain." According to The Gear Junkie columnist, Stephen Regenold, the paper has an acrylic-based coating that "eschews water like a duck's back" yet allows the transfer of ink or pencil which then will not wash off. It was originally developed for the Pacific Northwest logging industry back in the 1920's. So why am I just hearing about it now?

Not that I do a lot of writing in the rain, or expose my written page to moisture, but I do have one old journal where ink has run and smudged along the edges of the page. The permanency factor, I suppose, is what intrigued me.

Rite as Rain comes in a variety of notebook sizes and styles, and a spiral bound 8.5 x 11 inch All-Weather sketchbook with blank pages is also available. However, I wonder about the sketchbook. The pages apparently have a waxy and almost sticky feel to them, although they do not stick to each other. I'm guessing you'd have to have a really good reason to want to use that kind of paper to sketch - say going on a river rafting trip? Well, that won't be me any time soon, so I think I can skip this product for now. Still, I thought some of you journalers and sketchers out there might be as intrigued with this idea as I was.

Oh, yeah, and the company also makes an All-Weather pen as well....

Judgment vs Will

The binding's sewn down on the angel quilt and I am pleased with how it looks. It was the right choice. So today the plan was to determine what else this quilt might need, specifically, if adding some rosettes would improve the design. And unfortunately, the only way to know that would be to make a bunch of them. These are similar to but smaller than the ones on the first Cathedral Angel quilt. The grid in the picture above is one inch, so you can see I'm working fussy again. I fused two pieces of the red together, traced around a tiny heart template for each petal, then cut each out. The center circle has fusible on the back. Arrange the petals, place the circle on top and fuse to hold all together. The tweezers are helpful in shifting the petals and positioning the circle.

I really wanted to skip this part. Just to test my idea, I figured I'd need to make at least 6 rosettes. That's 30 of those little heart petals. And if I decided the rosettes were a mistake, then what in the heck would I do with them? You know me, I can't toss anything, especially if it's taken me a lot of time to make. My better judgment that suspected this was a detail that would really improve this quilt was getting drowned out by the willful child who just wanted to be done. But even the child had to admit that the quilt still looked blah, a bit dead, and definitely in need of something else.

Those six rosettes were all that was necessary to see I definitely needed to add these. It made making the additional eight less of a chore. Once they were all positioned on the quilt, they helped those outer vines make sense, and I also think they help move the eye around the design. My fear that they would detract from the angel in the center was unfounded. Instead, they echo the fabric in the angel's tunics, seen no where else on the quilt.

I'll stitch them to the quilt using gold metallic thread and probably a buttonhole stitch just around the centers. The petals will be left free. After that I will try a few beads in the sky along those rays in the fabric, and possibly a few in the water as well. And then, I think this quilt will be finished.

Copyright, Derivative Work, Influences

When I started this blog, I promised the occasional rant, and I'm not sure I've made good on that promise yet. Today's post may come close to a rant, although only a mild one. It's triggered by two events: a piece on the program of the Spokane Symphony's season opener last month, and a post on The Ragged Cloth Cafe blog. Both beg the question of when is a work derivative, and why it appears ok for some artists to "copy" another artist's work or style.

I admit I'm a bit touchy about the issue of copyright as it has invaded the quilting world. Copyright is not a big part of quilting's tradition. Quilter's are better known for sharing, copying another's work partly out of admiration, freely using the wealth of block patterns and applique motifs passed through many generations of quilters, being inspired by someone else's idea and racing home to run with it. It was all so innocuous until big money and careers were suddenly at stake. This is not to say that I deny all claims of copyright a modern quilter may make. I only state this to show how the culture of quilting has changed the last 20 or so years, and to note how it has cast a certain pall and uneasiness over a number of quilters. The are still those quilters oblivious to copyright issues, but there are many more that now fear that anything they do might infringe if it ends up as a raffle quilt or gets entered into a show with cash prizes. We no longer can show our admiration of a pattern or a teacher through emulation without wondering if we are crossing a line that will get us sued. Many of us are genuinely confused, and some of the joy has been taken out of our craft. (This is the mild rant part - full of generalizations and simplification of a very complex issue.)

If it's not out and out copyright to be worried about, then the next fear that has been pounded into us it that of producing derivative work. How much do we need to tweak an idea to make it our own? How do we defend ourselves when we discover that what we thought was oh so original on our part has already been done by someone else? This is where the post on The Ragged Cloth Cafe comes in. Clairan Ferrono's post "A Question of Originality" compares similar work by different artists, and the surprise on each is that the least well known of each pair being compared was actually the earlier one to produce that work. This really struck a chord with me.

And then, I went to the symphony and listened to Maurice Ravel's Piano Concerto in G Major. The program notes revealed that Ravel had become interested in American jazz, admired George Gershwin a great deal, and this piece displayed signs of this newfound interest. "...the tempo slows to a bluesy mood, with wailing clarinet and muted trumpet melodies that George Gershwin might have penned." And as I listened, eyes closed, indeed, when that portion was played, it sounded to my ear exactly like a Gershwin piece. Huh, I thought. How'd he get away with that?

It's impossible not to be influenced by what is around us. Alyson Stanfield notes in her Art Biz blog here: "Don't be afraid of being influenced by others. Be afraid of being ignorant of them." And I would add, eventually, you have to put your own spin on whatever is influencing you to make it truly your own, and not derivative. Then, hopefully, when you put that work out there, you won't have to fear copyright infringement or accusations of being less than original in your vision.

Taking the Plunge...

I'm tired of the angel quilt hanging around my neck like an albatross, so today I flipped it over, squared it up and chose a binding. I have to admit, I'm feeling much better about it after having taken a break from it. I find that's often the case with troublesome quilts. This wasn't the first long break I'd taken from it either. It has fought me almost every step of the way.

I'm not sure this binding is "right" but it isn't wrong either. In fact, it looks much better than I thought it would and helps tie in the little bit of that fabric I used through the center of the quilt. I'm still wondering if I should have faced the edges, or at least faced the bottom edge, but I don't need to second guess myself any more on this.

I used single fold binding cut on grain for the sides and top, and bias cut for the curved bottom. I used the butted method rather than continuous mitered at the corners partly so I would have the option to change my mind about the top and bottom if I didn't like what was going on there without having to remove the whole binding. I'd left extra at the top of the quilt, not sure just how wide that border should be to look right. After sewing on the binding and pinning it to the back, I decided the border was too wide. Off came that section of binding, 1/2 an inch was trimmed off, and the binding was sewn back on. You wouldn't think 1/2 an inch would make that much difference, but in a border that isn't terribly wide to begin with, it did. The proportions look much better to me now.

I'll hand stitch it to the back, and then consider adding some stylized roses and beading. Won't know if that will be necessary or overkill until I try it.

Yeah, That's Me

I was reading the reports of three journalism interns - their expectations when they applied, the collision with reality, how they felt about it all now that they were at the end. Kelly McCrillis's final comment really hit home:

"So few of us really want to strive and succeed - most of us would rather skip the striving part."

The striving part that I want to skip is the one that can be loosely described as marketing. I've always been the type who wanted to be discovered, to have job offers drop into my lap, in short, just do my thing and do it well and wait quietly for the accolades to come. But life seldom works like that. As Kelly goes on to say, roll up your sleeves, dial some numbers...

...and I would add, get comfortable with talking about your art whenever the subject might come up. Don't pass up opportunities to meet new people. You never know who they know that might become the lead you need to greater exposure.

I say this now as I emerge from a year of relative shrinking violet-ism, although I've had my moments. One of those moments is suddenly starting to pay off. A chance meeting last October that resulted in an exchange of business cards has resulted in a recent emailed invitation to be a part of a special exhibit in the spring. She's excited, I'm excited. But she never would have known about me and my art quilting had someone not drug me to that meeting and encouraged me to bring the above example of my work. Thanks all around. Time to roll up my sleeves...

More on The Quilted Line

The quilting line seems to be on a lot of minds lately. Check out this post by Alison Schwabe for observations and opinions that mirror my own.

Pricing and Production

My artist brother Mad Max, the one who works with wood, has been playing with making wine stoppers. I loved the one he made for me so much that I've bartered with him for more. I've spotted a few similar ones here and there, ones that look like afterthoughts, bargain priced and set out next to the more expensive bowls and vases. I could envision the wood worker with scraps left over, and like the waste-not-want-not mentality of quilters, deciding to make something of them rather than toss them out. They impressed me as very cheesy, the lovely wood tops, usually all the same, attached to plastic or cork stoppers. No heft, no weight, no class. These shown here with the metal stopper have substance and a streamline elegance the others lack. These are wine stoppers for the discriminating wine connoisseur.

So the question is, would these sell for what my brother feels he'd need to price them to cover his time and materials? Their simplicity is deceiving. They are time consuming to make. And like me, as much as he'd like to sell his work, my brother doesn't want to end up in the production business. Each one he makes is slightly different, unique. He chooses the wood carefully, matching exotics to the recipient, experiments with grainlines. It would ruin the pleasure of the making if he suddenly had to churn out dozens of these at a time, possibly to someone else's specs. It would take away from the other pieces, the real pieces he wants to make.

Yet, he still toys with the idea of making small quantities of these on a limited basis to sell.

Sound familiar? Starve or sell your soul, are those the only two alternatives for artists? Dip your toe in the market and risk losing control or keep your day job and your independence?

If you are interested in more information on these wine stoppers with a mind to placing an order, e-mail me at idahobeautyquilts@yahoo.com, and I will forward your request. Yeah, the mercenary in him couldn't resist!

Chestnuts

Chestnuts have always fascinated me. With their rich color sporting what looks all in the world like wood grain and that smooth polished surface, these could be tiny wood sculptures. They are raining down in earnest at the moment, their less interesting green husks bursting to reveal the treasure within. For a truly beautiful artistic take on the humble chestnut, see what June Underwood has created with silk and thread here.

Today was a day for puttering. Although I didn't share them, I'd set some rather modest goals for the week which were not getting done (with the exception of the journal quilt). The studio was a bit of a mess, so some of the puttering involved straightening up, putting away, clearing a space on the table to have room to work on a couple of those goals. Then I could lay out and steam the angel quilt in preparation for binding it. Then I could cut and sew a sleeve for Willow II and hand-sew it on. Perhaps tomorrow I'll get the label printed and attached, the angel quilt trimmed up and binding considered. Regardless, it just felt good being in the studio, doing anything in there. It was feeling a bit like home instead like a strange place.

I also took a few minutes to sketch an idea that came to me while writing my morning pages yesterday. Upon seeing September's journal quilt, but before seeing the picture that was its inspiration, a close friend commented that it surely represented one hell of a crossroads I've arrived at. Mmmm. Perhaps my subconscious was working overtime, but the idea of this being anything but a rendition of the front of a chest of drawers had not entered into my thinking while making it. I pressed her for more information, and she said she could see fields with roads running in between, representing crossroads. I chuckled to myself. Well, if they're crossroads, they aren't lining up, so no wonder I'm so confused!

Still, it made me think. Sometimes outside observers have a better take on where you are than you do. This was the second time in just a few months that a close friend had commented that I was at a crossroads in my life. Both times I objected and said that I did not feel that I was. I knew where I wanted to go but wasn't sure how to make it happen. In my mind, that's not a crossroads. The crossroads had been whether to seriously pursue art quilting or lapse back into the comfort of traditional quilting. The crossroads had been whether to stay in Wisconsin or move, and then move where. Am I up against another crossroad and just haven't been aware of it yet? I found myself writing, "All I see is a rut - a rutted path disappearing into an unfathomable distance. No signposts. No indication of where it is leading. No place to get off."

Then an image of a woman kneeling by a dirt road popped into my head. She held her face in her hands. She was surrounded by a dense forest. Was she me? I don't know, but I had to try to sketch it. Bear in mind, drawing is not my forte, human figures even less so. But I like this idea and hope someday I can translate this into fabric.

Putting It All Together

"I think the most difficult part of managing the quilted line is to control it and make it a part of a bigger whole. Like any other art form, it may be easy to master different segments of the craft, but difficult to put it together into a cohesive statement."

Pam Rubert - Pamdora's Box: My Art Adventure Blog

I pulled the above gem out of this post about The Quilted Line. To me, this sums up the difficulties every quilter faces when expressing an idea in a quilt. It is part of my frustration at times. We need to know how to do so many different things well in order to complete a quilt. Choosing the thread and design of the quilting can be particularly difficult. There may be more than one good solution. Get one thing wrong, and it may destroy the impact of the whole thing. Let the quilting take a leading role when it would be better left subordinate, and it may detract the eye from the real focus of the design. It goes on and on.

Some people opt to hand off certain tasks to someone with greater expertise, or at the very least, a greater love for doing that particular task. I find that difficult to do. I feel some sort of obligation, I suppose, that every part of the process be completed by me and only me. Anything else would be like false advertising or cheating. I don't know where this attitude came from. Certainly not from the history of traditional quilting where there is ample evidence of collaboration in all phases of making a quilt. But there you have it: I feel guilty even thinking about passing off my work to someone else to complete.

I realize there is an exception to that. I often ask for input from others during the design process. Sometimes it's just to confirm what I already know; other times I'm stuck and really looking for ideas to jog me loose. The quilt shown in Pam's post is just that sort of a "collaboration." I suppose that doesn't bother me as much as say, letting someone else actually quilt a piece of mine. I guess I think I'm still in control, still making the final decisions, still doing the actual work even though I'm open to suggestions from others.

The more I think about this, the more I have to admit life itself is a collaboration. So should it be so surprising that working on our art would not also show signs of collaboration? It's impossible to work in vacuum, that's for sure.