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

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 quilt show that is also a part of the Expo was smaller than usual, Marie said. All the quilts were nicely done, but bland, generic, traditional, and in general, very ehhh. Except for one row of extraordinary mini quilts, all around 1′ x 2′, designed each by a member of the NYC Metro Modern Quilt Guild. (Add this exhibit to the list of additional reasons for me to live in NYC in my life. What an awesome guild.) There were panels along the bottoms of the display that told about the inspiration behind each of the mini quilts, a form that offers so much potential for creative juice, because no technique is too big to get overwhelmed by when the final product is tiny. The driving force behind these quilts was the question, “what does modern quilting mean to you?” And the results, in both work of art and words explaining, were captivating, creatively inspiring, and beautiful.

My favorites are here. My photos do them terrible justice. All the mini quilts were beautiful–you should read more about them and their meaning.

The first, Back in To-Day, features two photographs transferred onto the fabric, the first from the Library of Congress’s folklife photograph collection, of a woman–in her own modern day–working on a quilt. The second is the creator of this piece, working on her own modern quilt. Quilting, she says, is modern always–for the person doing it. It is happening right now. Interesting perspective on modern quilting.

The second one is scanned images of the quilter’s deceased cat, which he started playing with in ditigal form after sorting through some papers years after the cat had died and realizing that chopping the images up yielded graphic and interesting results.

The third is all creams, tiny stitches, and one patch of teal. Right up my modern quilt alley. They are all stunning in person.

I also loved the African textiles and traditional patterns and quilting motifs, but anyone who’s ever heard me gush about these motifs from when I was researching them for my material culture class already knows I’m crazy for them. The things they have done with narrow woven pieces of fabric, and created so much movement and pattern… amazing.

A good day.

Back in To-Day by Earamichia Brown

Kitty X-Ray by David Sisson

"for Amanda" by Amy K. Smith

There was a great display of a woman's personal collection of traditional quilts from her African American family

More from her display. So graphic.

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.

In 1988, the NAMES Project staff and an enormous group of volunteers brought the Quilt to the Ellipse in Washington, D.C. for the second time (a year after its first memorial display), and he gave a speak that can be found on YouTube–filled with emotion and setting much of responsibility for where we stood in 1988 on inaction from the government of the United States, the one country in the world with the most resources to act. The story behind the Quilt, its legacy, meaning, and growth–not to mention the hundreds of thousands of stories contained within its squares–are incredible. I thoroughly enjoyed reading of its provenance and meaning through Cleve’s eyes.

But I will not share all of this here. I will share an excerpt from that 1988 speech.

We stand here tonight in the shadow of monuments, great structures of stone and metal created by the American people to honor our nation’s dead to proclaim the principles of our democracy. Here we remember the soldiers of wars won and lost. Here we trace with our fingers the promises of justice and liberty etched deep by our ancestors in marble and bronze.

Today we have borne in our arms and on our shoulders a new monument to our nation’s capital. It is not made of stone or metal and was not raised by engineers. Our monument was sewn of soft fabric and thread and was created in homes across America wherever friends and families gathered together to remember their loved ones lost to AIDS.

We bring a quilt. We bring it here today with shocked sorrow at its vastness and the speed by with its acreage redoubles. We bring it to this place, at this time, accompanied by our deepest hope: that the leaders of our nation will see the evidence of our labor and our love and that they will be moved.

We bring a quilt. We’ve carried this quilt to every part of our country, and we have seen that the American people know how to defeat AIDS. We have seen that the answers exist and that tens of thousands of Americans have already stepped forward to accept their share and more of this painful struggle. We have seen the compassion and skill with which the American people fight AIDS and care for people with AIDS. We have witnessed the loving dedication of volunteers, families, and friends and the extraordinary bravery of people with AIDS, themselves working beyond exhaustion. And everywhere in this land of ours we have seen death.

In the past fifteen months over twenty thousand Americans have been killed by AIDS. Fifteen months from now our new president will deliver his first state of the union address. And on that day, America will have lost more sons and daughters to AIDS than we lost fighting in Southeast Asia–those whose names we can read today from a polished black stone wall.

We bring a quilt. It grows day by day and night by night and yet its expanse does not begin to cover our grief, nor does its weight outweigh the heaviness within our hearts.

For we carry with us tonight a burdensome truth that must be simply spoken: History will record that in the last quarter of the twentieth century a new and deadly virus emerged and that the one nation on earth with the resources, knowledge, and institutions to respond to the new epidemic failed to do so. History will further record that our nation’s failure was the result of ignorance, prejudice, greed, and fear. Not in the heartlands of America, but in the Oval Office and the halls of Congress.

The American people are ready and able to defeat AIDS. We know how it can be done and the people who will do it. It will take a lot of money, hard work, and national leadership. It will require us to understand there is no conflict between the scientific response and the compassionate response. No conflict between love and logic. Some will question us, asking how could that be. We will answer, How could it not?

We bring a quilt. We hope it will help people remember. We hope it will teach our leaders to act.

There are many, many things more I could share. There is so much meaning, lore, love, and anger contained in the Quilt. Over time, I will share more.

I have also learned so much more about Parnell Peterson and Craig Koller, the two men whose squares I visited, since writing about what I wish I knew and then about visiting their panels. In some way, over time, I would like to share that here, too. I must figure out how best I want to express it, share stories. For now, they are mine, held close, and written in the notebook I’ve dedicated to the stories I collect of their lives.

What a powerful source of memory, of honoring those who we have lost to AIDS.

As I have written about a few times already , I have been exploring the many squares on the AIDS Memorial Quilt, and have been remembering especially two men who were important to my Mom, to our community, and to my perception and experience with the death tolls from AIDS. Almost as soon as I learned, via their website, that the Quilt is stored and the foundation headquartered here in Atlanta, I called, left a message, and asked to visit–especially to see the two squares I had been pouring over, Craig’s and Parnell’s.

Photos on Craig's quilt square, of Parnell Peterson (left) and Craig Koller, from Parnell's family

Richie, a veteran of the NAMES Project Foundation, called me back after the MLK holiday weekend, and I planned a visit for today. This morning I spent some time crying, touching the quilt, reading the many lovely words, poems, thoughts contributed to each of their squares, and learned more about these two men via the wonderful memorial that this Quilt provides. It provides a way to remember, in a very communal and large-scale way, yet allowing for quite private and personal time with those who are being remembered. Richie pulled up the information on these two squares, 2744 (Parnell’s) and 5508 (Craig’s), so I could see where they had traveled, where they had been requested, and where and when they were each on display.

I learned that the demographic who has been contributing the most new squares–they receive on average about 400 new squares each year–are nieces. Girls my age, who have memories, however clear or unclear, of their uncles who died while we were young, and who have now reached the age in which remembering them properly has been an important part of grieving, or becoming an adult, of understanding how this illness has devastated families. I am exactly that generation, that demographic, though I have to consider myself an honorary niece only.

I made a donation in honor of my parents, who have been caring, compassionate examples for my brothers and me, and in honor of Craig and Parnell, obviously, and for each of their families. The wonderful (small) staff gave me a book of some quilt squares, and a calendar I have already poured over several times. I felt so welcomed, and depending on how much longer I am in Atlanta, I want to help quilt squares together as they need me. Seeing a modest and hard-working organization and staff like that also reminds me that I am in the right field; non-profits, working to educate and engage the public, and ensuring that life has been well-spent by taking care of the issues that matter most.

Take a moment to drink in how enormous each panel of this quilt is. Each square is intentionally 3 feet by 6 feet, about the size of a human grave. I was not prepared for the commanding presence, and for how much more meaningful seeing each component up-close truly is.

That's me next to Craig's square

The portion my family contributed to Craig's square, which is on the bottom, in the very middle

Parnell McKenna Peterson's square (double-sized, like Craig's). The entire bottom is littered with lovely messages to him.

I especially enjoyed seeing all of the contributions made by people who loved each of them. Their lives and memories matter to many.

My mom, Craig, and some other of their high school friends here, also part of Craig's square. Craig is on the bottom left.

Parnell

Craig

Craig, in the center of his beautiful square. (Hazard of storing thousands of quilt squares, creases.)

The modest headquarters of the largest piece of community folk art in the world. The Quilt weighs 54 tons. They're all stored here.

Take-home goodies: book, calendar. There are very generous, wonderful people taking care of this quilt.

Find a full-time job. A real one, with a salary, in an urban area, and most importantly, in my field.

Graduate with my Master’s in Heritage Preservation (on track for May).

Requisite fitness goal: will exercise on a more regular basis, and cross train rather than just get on a cardio machine and wait out forty minutes.

Continue to foster and build my quilting skills, and maintain my creative time with fabric.

Finish my 365 project, I AM 365, on July 31, 2012. I’m five months’ in now.

Pay off my other credit card, finally, once and for all, be finished with consumer debt. Hope, hope, hopefully.

Save money. At least, spend less. (Getting more cliche as I go, right?)

Move. This is apparently on my list every year. I’ve moved in 2006, 2007, 2009, 2010, 2011. And I will be again in 2012. This year though, I have no idea where. Wherever they hire me. Fortunately my field tends to revolve around urban areas.

Long-arm quilt, for myself, the Single Girl quilt that I began the day after my 24th birthday last year. I decided I’m going to finish it by my 25th birthday, fitting. It’s my first real quilt for myself, a gift to my twenty-five years.

Pray; support causes I believe in; and give when I can, what I can. [Biggies: My parents' mission with Greater Europe Missions, LiNK (Liberty in North Korea), public radio and WABE]

Not freak out when I think of all the factors that can change the plans I’ve outlined. I’m kind of at a crossroads here, finally finishing school for good, seeking a real and meaningful job, in a relationship that has last nearly four years, trying to find where I will fit into this world in 2012.

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