bits of a vintage sari mixed well with other fabrics I love

I tend to buy fabrics when I see them and adore them, and not when I need them or have any particular project in mind. Add to this my Mom, who sees great deals on small tidbits and passes them along to me as well. Our habit of collecting bits of designs and colors and patterns that we like has lead me to create a very simple twin-sized “sari quilt.”

She found this spectacular pinky-red vintage sari at an estate sale awhile ago for $5, and in the process of my parents’ downsizing, handed it off to me. All the pink-red-and-cream patterned pieces in this quilt were pieces of the long, luscious, lightweight sari strip–over five yards of gorgeous motif. I was terrified to cut it for the longest time, thinking I would find the right project after cutting into it for something else, and waste its glorious hues on something I felt lukewarm about. It is quite thin, and also old and delicate, so I needed to find just the thing to do with it. (There are still several yards left for other future works.)

The fabric featuring Asian ladies with fans was also a gift from my Mom, for advent at Christmas time, as we both have weaknesses for those teals and pinks and blacks. I reminded her when she gave me these that she had also given me a few swatches of Mary Fisher’s fabric line inspired by Africa–which she picked up on a trip to Michigan last year–in the same color scheme.

Suddenly, I had all these bits that worked together naturally. I had also seen a picture of a child’s bedroom that I adored, with a simple large-scale patchwork across the twin bed, which I loved for its bold fabrics and simplicity. That was where this quilt was born; I loved each of these fabrics, and they way they spoke to one another, but not to the point where I wanted to see them hacked up into smaller wedges for a traditional quilt pattern. I just wanted to be able to see them all together, on one bed, contained within one long strip of binding.

I started this just after my foot surgery in December, and finished it today. I used one of my favorite stash fabrics, a grey-and-white ikat, for the binding. I used Denyse Schmidt’s straight-cut binding method (rather than a bias-cut binding) and loved the variation. I don’t think I’ll use a bias-cut binding ever again. Direction are in her new, incredible book.

For the back, Ben helped me chose an amazing neutral that was exactly the right fit–a pale teal and cream interpretation of the Paris subway maps; delicate, small-scale, and almost invisible unless you take a second glance.

Inspiration for the large patches: Cassandra Ellis home sneak peek

my interpretation

subway maps criss-cross the quilt's back

Quilt I made, shared online

I have been thinking for a couple days on something I read in my May 2012 issue of Atlanta Magazine, in their feature on the craft scene in the city.

The ladies who started Indie Craft Experience (ICE) Atlanta are featured–the very fun and quirky biannual expo in an old warehouse downtown, with food trucks outside and tons of talented craftsmen and women inside. Ben and I went to our first ICE Atlanta last summer and came away with a few really cool pieces, including organic baby clothes for a friend, a funky bottle opener, and a wool-and-cotton stuffed elephant that graces my office space.

The feature includes a few local artists and shops, but one little bit got me thinking, about modern aesthetic, modern craft, and the influence technology on the projects we imagine, plan, and execute today.

ICE features work from the new crafting or “indie” scene. There, you are as likely to find a cross-stitching of Bea Arthur as you are handmade earrings. Urban motifs like skulls and studs have replaced country kitsch. Peterson credits this evolution to the Internet. “Crafting isn’t as isolated as it used to be,” she says. “You can get online and share ideas.” This Venn diagram of technology and handwork is what gives modern crafting its quirky aesthetic, which resonates deeply with a new generation.

The inspiration we find on Pinterest

The Internet has definitely changed how we craft.

It has changed what kinds of materials and fabrics are available to use, it has given us the blogging community to share in-progress and finished projects and bounce ideas, and then there are all the other kinds of social media to provide continuous graphic inspiration.

living room (part-time dance floor) and other spaces in the apartment that was all my own

For one year, which was the maximum amount of time my (then-more-limited) budget could handle it, I lived alone. I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with my cat, and I adored it.

The New York Times reported on the “freedom, and perils, of living alone” a few months ago, and spoke to many of the great and terrible aspects of this less-rare decadence of the modern age.

IF there is any doubt that we’re living in the age of the individual, a look at the housing data confirms it. For millenniums, people have huddled together, in caves, in mud huts, in split-levels and Cape Cods. But these days, 1 in every 4 American households is occupied by someone living alone; in Manhattan, mythic land of the singleton, the number is nearly 1 in 2.

I don’t live in Manhattan, and I actually do not know very many people who have spent time living alone, with not one other human soul. There are appealing delights in the entire set-up, that I appreciate even more so now that I no longer have them. If I happen to have a messy week, it bothers no one except myself; so only when I am annoyed by the dished left on the counter do I have to do anything about them. (Being messy: most decadent of behavior.) You grow quickly fond of walking around completely naked as you do things in the mornings or evenings. (Truly.) There is quiet when you want it, and loud also when you want it. There is always a dance floor in your living room, with an audience of one (the cat, who is not in the least judgmental of your moves) and no one will barge in on your party-of-one. Push the couch out of the way if it’s getting really serious. Solitude when you need it, a space to recharge, foster creativity, watch any damn thing you want to. No one’s opinion matters here except your own. We all need tiny spaces  where this is what dictates the way of things; even if, obviously for many, that space is not your own, magnificent single-occupancy apartment.

Because that is also where the peril lies. “The single-occupant home can be a breeding ground for eccentricities,” the NYT reports, to no one’s surprise or shock. Think of, “Kramer on ‘Seinfeld,’ washing vegetables in the shower or deciding, on a whim, to ditch his furniture in favor of ‘levels.’” Because it offends no one else!

One woman, Amy Kennedy, featured in the article readily admits that she can see, over the six years she has lived alone in North Carolina, that she has gotten “quirkier and quirkier.” I can absolutely see how this would happen. Amy:

“The entire apartment is your room,” Ms. Kennedy said, by way of explanation. “If I leave a bra on the kitchen table, I don’t think much about it.”

Living alone breeds very strange wardrobe decisions, as others in article point out, and to which I can readily attest. Weird, embarrassing stretchy pants and third-day greasy hair? No one’s there to see. Other usual suspect habits? Leaving the bathroom door open. Talking to yourself. And eating strange versions of “recipes”–what I call “single-people food”–inventions that arise out of the need to eat without the urge to prepare anything too time-consuming or elaborate for a party of one. Cereal. A can of black beans mixed in with some other can of soup. Expensive cheese, by itself. Cereal. Something that is usually a side-dish but I choose to make the whole meal. And so on.

What emerges from this much time spent alone?

What emerges over time, for those who live alone, is an at-home self that is markedly different — in ways big and small — from the self they present to the world. We all have private selves, of course, but people who live alone spend a good deal more time exploring them.

This can have good and bad consequences, depending on how well you handle the quirks that arise. One of the perils the article mentions is the work of resocialization when you do eventually cohabitate. As a lifelong introvert, I’m quite skilled in manuvering myself within a social world without neglecting the need for quiet, solitary space.  I lived naturally alone, just as I live quite naturally and happily with others. But it was such a lovely year, one I cherish.What emerges over time, for those who live alone, is an at-home self that is markedly different — in ways big and small — from the self they present to the world. We all have private selves, of course, but people who live alone spend a good deal more time exploring them.

For me it was such a pleasure (albeit, too expensive). It wasn’t that all my time was spent alone. But I am a person who cherishes, relishes, in time I have to myself, and I continue to relish evenings or mornings or afternoons of solitude, time to devote to a skill, a project, a paper, a book, an exercise machine (less often), a cup of coffee, a bookstore outing, a quiet meal, a movie alone, a design idea, a blog post, research, a recipe, a cat snugglefest, a dance party for one. Sometimes, I even clean.

when books take over a kitchen

Triangles and their bold geometry have been on the back-burner of my creative juices for awhile. Back in September, I impulsively bought a bunch of fabric for a menswear quilt (different project) and added on a flying geese triangle plastic template, which I have yet to use at all. To be quite honest, they look stunning, but I know how sneakily tricky triangles can be in quilts– all those points to match and perfect. And while I embrace wonky shapes and modern aesthetic, I still don’t want to end up with a quilt made of triangles that, well, suck.

So I’ll keep this image in my brain for the day when I’m ready to tackle triangles. I adore everything Audrie has done: the all-solids, the rich splashes of tangerine and gold and red, the quilting lines–simple and geometric–the binding (that black and white punch!), and the shapes themselves.

Blue is Bleu Triangle Quilt

I’ve finished a baby quilt that is now my second foray into modern, improvisational quilting. But really, it is my first venture, as the other modern quilt I am thinking of, which I made for Ben, was based on an image in a book, and though each square was shaped differently from the last–each one unique–I had a much more methodical approach to that one. I knew as I was making it where I was going and what the result would look like.

This time, I was going off an idea of stained glass windows, and the lines that separate the slices of color within the image. I had a yard of fabric that I’d gotten from (the amazing) Spoonflower fabrics, with animals and solid, plain background colors, something I would never in a million years have purchased for my own aesthetic. It’s a child’s print, perfect inspiration for a baby quilt I wanted to make for my lovely friend LaVonne who is due in September.

I didn’t have a concept at the beginning, when I bought this fabric, and so by the time I thought of stained glass (albiet, as a very abstract construction), I realized probably any fabric would have gone better with that concept than that of a square-based grid of critters. I knew I only wanted to use solids besides the single print, so I picked up orange and teal. This was turning out to be a color scheme I never would have anticipated myself using. Black was essential for grounding the whole thing, to go between each larger segment and make my vision of a cut-up assemblage of scraps come together. But Whipstitch was out of solid Kona black (or any black for that matter, except corduroy). So, I would use  corduroy instead. Babies love texture, right?

I wanted to throw this quilt in the garbage about a dozen times.

Blank canvasses staring at me

But the point is also that quilting with a person in mind, as a gift for them, also allows me the gift of time to think, sew, draw, scheme, plan, fail, and by the time it’s done, grow. I love that I grew so much in my art and my craft while making this for LaVonne, her husband, and their daughter or son.

It did not wind up in the trash, or in temporary (permanent) storage, nor was I overly tempted to buy new, different fabric and start afresh. I scaled down the final size, because larger trials I stuck to the wall with Scotch tape were not graphically pleasing. The smaller size meant I could enjoy the parts I did like. I do have a rather larger than normal scrap pile, which I don’t care to ever look at again.

a corner arises, taped to my blank wall (my door)

Ok, it’s done, I did it. I made something up. It went about as successfully as the drawings I try when I have an idea, and then remember once I’ve tried to execute it that I am terrible at drawing basically anything. So, it looks quite different than my original intended idea, but really, that is what modern quilting often means–taking a few interesting ideas, fabrics, or notions, and seeing what arises. There is often equally as much thought, I think, in improvisational quilting as there is following a pattern. Or so it seemed to me. But then again, now that I reflect on this process, maybe there was far less. The fabric kind of lead me where I clearly, often, did not want to go. But in the end, I am happy.

I named the quilt P/L after the two names LaVonne and her husband have chosen, for a girl and a boy. I don’t know if it’s public information so I won’t share just yet.

piles of creative inspiration. or sometimes, not.

Some kind of mess arises from what I've sewn so far. at this point, I am only mildly pleased, and mostly lukewarm about how it's turned out. I started to think it might be the color palette I so disliked. But, onward.

After scaling it down in size, I started the machine quilting. this was when I started to love this quilt. geometric quilt lines taking shape.

the front, finally

i love the weird, pale-but-lime green I chose on a giant whim for the back

cute critters

The Relationship Between Quilting and Well-Being

Emily Burt & Jacqueline Atkinson

Journal of Public Health, 34(1) 54-59

Results: Cognitive, emotional and social processes were uncovered, which participants identified as important for their wellbeing. Participants found quilting to be a productive use of time and an accessible means of engaging in free creativity. Colour was psychologically uplifting. Quilting was challenging, demanded concentration and participants maintained and learned new skills. Participants experienced ‘flow’ while quilting. A strong social network fostered the formation of strong friendships. Affirmation from others boosted self-esteem and increased motivation for skill development. Quilts were often given altruistically and gave quilting added purpose.

The comment reads: In the early thirties, as he was writing Tropic of Cancer, his first published novel that was to become a classic of twentieth century fiction- Henry Miller wrote himself this list of 11 commandments.

It applies to so many creative activities, endeavors, experiments.

This pattern had been on my Amazon wish list forever, silently intimidating me with the giant-scale circles and all those tiny pieces. See, I’ve made several quilts, but they’ve been deceptive to outsiders, because every time I’ve made up my own pattern and motif, going off things I’ve seen and loved, but essentially, designing each myself. Following patterns is actually hard, and I wanted to force myself to stick to a method, follow directions, and patiently cut out all the pieces ahead of time, per the instructions, so that by the time you hate the giant queen-size you’ve set out to make and cut all those hundreds of pieces, you actually get down to the sewing, and time flies by, and then you have a massive, beautiful quilt top ready to be layered with batting and backing and grace your bed.

My goal for 2012 is to take this baby somewhere and learn to use a long-arm quilter myself, taking the required course and then using the circular quilting pattern that comes with Schmidt’s design for Single Girl. I started this quilt on the day after my 24th birthday, September 25, and so I want to finish the quilting by my birthday this year, my 25th birthday. I’ve made four quilts, this is my fifth one, and three of the first four have been gifts. The only one I’ve kept, a throw-size in all fabrics I loved, is wonderfully experimental, including my first raggedy machine-quilting stitches on my own machine. It’s a lovely token of early quilting technique, filled with trial and error (read: mistakes). I love it for that, but I am excited to tackle this quilt, a giant one that is made for my bed, and make it a beautiful work of art, showing how I’ve grown in my skill since I began quilting in 2008.

I can’t make it to my final quilt class today, because I’m handicapped from recent foot surgery, but I needed to post some pictures for the other ladies in my class, as well as our teacher, Diana. I hope you guys can post some for me to see, I’m really sad I will be missing seeing the final products! Please post them here, or e-mail them to me, or put them on Pinterest–something!

One circle, four quarters together

Graphic

In a bunch

Detail

Circle love

Happy with the two-tone scheme I chose for this quilt. All reds and creamy whites.

Across my bed, all sixteen circles, each turning a little differently

This week I have finally been able to open my October and November issues of National Geographic and I was awestruck by the November story on the Sami people of northern Sweden. Their wardrobe and striking faces radiate against the harsh landscape of the region where they live–blanketed all in white snow. Even the reindeer they keep lend themselves to the grey and white backdrop.

They are a fascinating group, and the photographer who has been living among them for the last few years captured them spectacularly. I had just been pondering not renewing my subscription, as a glanced over an archeological dig and ancient treasure story, and then flipped to this story, just after it. That always happens. The stunning cultural pieces remind me why I always find something worthwhile in the pages. I just skip the ancient treasure stories. See the photo gallery here.

Sven Skaltje eats a meal of dried reindeer meat, homemade bread, and coffee in Gallivare, Sweden

A photo of a calf marking hangs in a home. I adore the images in this entire story.