A beginning

Like any quilter worth their salt I have a stash of fabric waiting to be used. Unlike many quilters, I imagine, my stash is made up almost entirely of clothes. My side of this quilting adventure didn't happen by accident. Making quilts from unwanted clothing just makes sense to me.

I am a bit of a hoarder when it comes to clothes. I probably wear the same 10 pieces over and over, especially now with the need for readily accessible boobs and a body still not sure what shape it will take, but I do love clothes. That being said, I also purge clothes quite frequently. I give bags to charity shops regularly. However, with every sort there are some items that never leave and get tucked away in a box or drawer. These are pieces which have meaning and while they are no longer (or never were) wearable, I cannot fathom parting with them.

One shirt in particular has followed me through numerous moves and across the sea. When my grandfather died I took one of his shirts. The shirt itself didn't hold any meaning and if I recall it was just laying around the house, but I took it to have something of him.

It's time has come. I have had an idea for this shirt for awhile now. Like all my quilt ideas it is evolving as I go along but the nugget of the idea remains. I am finally making a quilt for us. For Pete and I. Not for a baby, not for a friend, for us. Our clothes are taking the brunt of the fabric work. Grampa's shirt is taking a hearty portion of the work and some charity shop finds are making up the rest.

The idea for this quilt is to explore some traditional patterns. I had a lot of fun with those geese. I enjoyed the quickness of making a block and I felt some progress could be made in shorter intervals, yet they still allowed me some creativity and the possibility of happy accidents in the final design.

I am starting with some sawtooth stars. I'm not sure why. I don't think the whole quilt will be stars but I will make them until I get bored.  The first is by far my favourite.

I made this one from the shorts my husband wore in Africa, where we met on holiday, and my maternity jeans, the most recent chapter in our story.  Pete's shorts required a bit of work before they were usable. I had to unpick some cargo-type pockets to get a bigger usable space which resulted in the reveal of the original colour of the shorts.

As I smoothed out the pockets to cut a square I felt grit along my cutting board.

Sand.

It probably isn't from the African continent but, as Pete can't remember the last time he wore these shorts, I like to think they are a few kernels from the beach in Malawi where we first shared a tent or from the dunes in the Sahara when we returned to the continent six years later.  Wherever they are from, it is a testament to my second-rate housewife skills as I am sure those shorts were washed before going into storage.

So many chapters in just one square.

A little housekeeping

Chinese New Year has come and gone, for some of us it is the season of Lent and for others of us spring and its feeling and promise of renewal can't come soon enough. (Although the screaming, pooping, squirmer that will come with my spring this year is anticipated and feared in equal measure.)

This little space on the internet isn't immune from these feelings of renewal and cleansing.  A few weeks ago Emily mentioned in passing a Skype session in which we made some plans for this little quilting adventure.  We are still working on some of the ideas and slowly coming up with a timeline for rolling out the changes and doing some behind-the-scenes work to make these new additions and edits gel with our current tack.

We started the blog with the idea of documenting the life of a particular quilt for each of us.  I was starting with a memory laden pile of t-shirts and Emily had a stash of fabric aching to be turned into something.  We weren't interested in creating tutorials or step by step, blow by blow descriptions of the process or portfolios of photos.  However, as each of the original pieces came to an end that is exactly where we found ourselves; diligently showing our work with little meaning or storytelling.

We started to think about what we love about quilting and what we want to share with our readers.  And while we will still share what we are currently working on, we want to expand our quilting discussions to what we are thinking about, what sparks our interest in the craft and what moves our readers to quilt.

To that end, we have made a few changes and will be looking for a bit of help from you, our lovely readers and quilting community.

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Monday will remain devoted to Emily and her quilting adventures and forays into her local quilting community.

Tuesdays and Wednesday will be spaces for historical/traditional discussions/stories and wordless posts highlighting the visual and artistic aspects of quilting.  We want to dig into the stories behind popular/traditional block designs, or terms or photos or superstitions, etc.  We will leave it open to interpretation.

Thursday will become Ariel's day to babble about material re-use mis-adventures and ruminations.

Friday Round-Up will transition to a monthly recap of links shared throughout the preceding days with a few special extras we found around the internet.  Taking its place will be a kind of occasional Scrap Bag of quilting stories, memories, interviews, or book reviews, etc. we (or you) collect over time.

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Obviously, most of this will be our own work and discoveries, but we want to create a space for community discoveries and stories as well.  Maybe you are interested in a particular aspect of quilting, or maybe you have a story or memory of a quilt you can't shake.  Why not share it with us?  It could be a single image with a caption or a complete history of a family heirloom.  Whatever it is, we want it.

So have a think and drop us a comment or email and let's stitch together a little virtual quilting bee complete with craft, storytelling and cake.

The Pattern Continues...

Remember way back in July when I kept putting off the start of the t-shirt quilt?

I'm doing it again.

I think we can all agree that quilt was a success.  Now it comes to my next project and again I am stalling.  My excuse this time around is about pattern.  I'm completely lost as to how I want this next project to go.

Despite Emily's generous gift of a super-secret-quilted-baby-something (which she is crazy generous for making) I have been planning a cot quilt for awhile now.  I mean you can't have too many, right?  From what I hear everything baby related gets covered in puke and poo on the regular so having a couple quilts isn't a bad thing.

I have the materials picked out, again stuff laying around the house, but I am still in the process of tracking them down.  The last quilt was all about me.  It was made of my t-shirts and reflected my personal history up to a particular point.  That point being getting married.  Pete is only tangentially present in that quilt.  He is a much bigger part of this picture.

This quilt will be made from his clothes.  Unlike me, Pete keeps all his old clothes.  (I know I kept all those t-shirts, but i am horrible for donated buckets of stuff hastily and then mourning the loss of a particular item the next time the season comes around.) There are items in that wardrobe that have not seen the light of day since before we moved in together over six years ago. Items that were sent from his closet in New Zealand but speak of a much different boy than the man I know.

I'm not touching those items.  They are his to do with as he pleases.  I am going for his old work shirts and boxers.  A kinky combination on the surface but one that has precedent.  Back in my Kentucky days, before I met Pete, I had a colleague doing her PhD on a group of quilters in the Appalachian mountains.  Their stories were fantastic, as most old mountain ladies'stories are, but there was one that caught my attention then that I have held with me since.  It goes without saying that they reused fabric.  Rarely was any new material bought to complete their projects but some of their materials were not only reused, but hot.

It seems that many of the ladies worked in the Jockey factory sewing together briefs and boxers.  Occasionally a few of the larger scraps would accidentally appear in their handbags when they got home at the end of the day.  Beautiful deep blues and rich reds so rare in their usual threadbare offerings of old clothes and husbands' work shirts.  These pieces would then find their way into the quilts of the quilting bee and they would giggle about the story as they related it to my colleague years later.

Maybe it gave them a little thrill to steal these scraps, like children taking candy out of the pick n mix boxes, and 'hide' them in their traditional, and acceptable, hobby.  Maybe they just saw fabric as fabric and couldn't abide the waste of throwing away perfectly good scraps.  Maybe both.  Maybe neither.

Fabric is fabric.  Waste not, want not.


While I track down these old clothes of my dear husband I am also thinking about the pattern.  I don't want to do the free-form improvisation of the t-shirt quilt and in reference to this tradition of using the 'menfolks' clothes as material I'm leaning toward a more traditional pattern but I'm not sold on stars or rings or any of the traditional blocks.

A quilt with a traditional technique but a more modern look.  That would fit my husband to a tee.

Friday Round-up

Each Friday, one of us does a little round-up of stuff that has stuck in the brain this week.  Kind of like an ear-wig, but with stuff.  Ear-wigs are okay, too.  It's not always sewing related.

screen shot from Kathryn Clark's blog

This week I only have one link for you.  I first found this on Mighty Girl, just a snippet about a particular quilt of a neighbourhood in Cleveland, Ohio (my hometown).

On further investigation of Kathryn Clark's Foreclosure Quilts I found a fascinating geographical project combining the memory and timelessness of quilts and social comment.

Well worth a look.

Completion

These were the last stitches of the t-shirt quilt.  It's done.  Done. Done. Done.

I hand-stitched the finishing of the binding and corners.  Mostly because the red bits were a stretch at many points.  There was enough of the white bits to finish by machine, but I wanted a bit more of an even look.

There is something very satisfying about finishing up by hand.  I was very connected to the last stitches.  It became very rhythmic and almost meditative.  It also was a bit tough on the fingers.

There were a few stretches over bulky seams and last minute fixes where layers escaped the initial zigzag stitch, but all in all, I think a success.

Last minute patchwork extensions put in place weeks, months, ago turned out to be almost useless.

As I stitched along, I thought about the process of this quilt.  I thought about the euphoria and serendipity of those first three blocks. I thought about the frustrations of figuring out the back bit.  I thought about how it the materials transformed from articles rich in memories to pieces of fabric to be manipulated.  From the obsessive mania of those days when I sewed for 10 hours to the days when I forced myself to finish.

It's been quite a journey of improvisation and learning.  Finding pieces to fit where needed, working with what is on hand. I admit I am nervous to move on to something with a more defined pattern and planning.  Maybe I will continue with the haphazard method of following my gut and piecing here and there.  I don't know.

I will continue using second-hand materials.  There is something wonderful about using bits which already had a life of use.  I'm sure they present issues in themselves of being wonky cut and never crisply folded or ironed, but I love them.


Yesterday I went to a remnants sale at an upholstery/fabric store and came out with an armful of scraps.

my half of the haul

I split the pile with my neighbour who wants to learn to sew and we will work through a couple of throw pillows and maybe some simple quilting.  Maybe a bit of practice in patterns before starting on the next big project.

By Hand

Soundtrack/Inspiration: The Waltons 


It's been awhile since I had some inspiration and guidance on this quilt.  I have to admit once I started on the back it became very mechanical and lost some of its magic.  However, I needed that kind of experience as well.  It can't always be all nostalgia and life lessons.

Since we moved I have struggled with getting into a new routine in this house.  Cooking, cleaning, writing, sewing, etc. got a bit jumbled up and I have to admit I haven't done much of any.  But I did happen upon repeats of The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie.  And now I'm hooked.  The other day they were quilting on The Waltons.  It was a 'quilting' which turns out to be the mountain version of a sweet sixteen.  All the ladies of the mountain contributed squares to Mary Ellen's quilt and they all gathered to bring it together and tell stories of their own quiltings.  Of course Mary Ellen was against the whole thing.  Part of the significance of the quilt was that she was now 'marriageable' and she was having none of that.  She was going to be a nurse (have a career) and never get married.  I can understand that feeling.  In fact I'm sure I had that same feeling at least a few times myself.

But the sentiment that won out was the passing of tradition through generations and doing with it what you will when it comes to your turn. I think I always had it in my head that I would hand-quilt this piece.  My first (and only) memory of quilting with my Gramma Rosa is hand quilting with her on her PVC quilting frame in front of the TV.  She was probably in the middle of her annual Godfather marathon, but she had a soft spot for The Waltons so there's a good chance it was going in the background at some point. Hand quilting seems appropriate for this particular quilt, and, unlike Emily, machine quilting scares me and I don't think I am up to it just yet.

As I'm not crazy about the colours and block sizes of the back I decided to create a little visual interest back there before attaching it to the front.  I'm hand quilting a few sections of the back and then I'll sandwich it all together and try to tie a few yarn bows through the front.  Just to make it a little harder on myself, I am attempting to make each side independent, so the quilting of the back isn't visible from the front and the ties aren't visible from the back.

First things first, the quilting of the back.  Unlike the rest of the quilt, I had to do a bit f pre-planning at this stage.  I wanted the quilting to be graphic to compliment the block pattern already in place (I use pattern lightly).  To start, I made a sketch of the back blocks and drew in patterns where I wanted quilting...

my very *detailed and to scale* sketch
(ignore the spot, camera is on its way to the cleaners)

As you can see (sort of), I'm not quilting the entire back, just the big swaths of colour.

a reminder of the actual blocking, in case the sketch is too abstract

At this point I have the quilting patterns marked out on the big blocks (which took days and required me to do basic arithmetic and measuring. YUCK!) and am ready to attach the batting so I can get started with the actual hand quilting.


Am I crazy?

Friday Round-up

Each Friday, one of us does a little round-up of stuff that has stuck in the brain this week.  Kind of like an ear-wig, but with stuff.  Ear-wigs are okay, too.  It's not always sewing related.


I have kind of avoided the internet for awhile so I have no great links for you today.   However, I have been thinking about the memories attached to things.  A by-product of recently handling most of our things as they were packed onto a truck and unpacked into our new home, but also the point of my particular quilt.

Not every quilt I make will come with pre-packaged memories.  In fact I am looking forward to creating something from memory-free materials and seeing what stories appear, however, the stories held by material objects is a bit of an obsession of mine.

Today I bring you three books which play with this idea of story-infused things.

This is now a movie which focuses on the tempestuous mother/daughter relationship.  However, for me, this book centers on a ratty old album full of the detritus of life.  This album holds the Divine Secrets of a particular life and how it entwines with her dearest friends.  Some bits are self-explanatory, some bits are familiar yet not clear and some will forever be secrets.

Leading on from a novel about a scrapbook, this novel is written as a scrap book, or in this case, an auction brochure.  It's a story of a relationship that didn't work told exclusively through items belonging to each partner.  The story of their courtship, relationship and unwinding is told through photographs and descriptions of each item.  Fascinating.

Finally, as this is a quilting blog, a book about the secrets and stories sewn into a particular quilt.  This novel is also now a movie, but I recommend sticking with the book.  This is written as half tutorial and half memoir.  It's a very moving piece about the different kinds of love existing in the world and the very different ways women love.



So there is your fall reading list.  Snuggle up and enjoy.

My sewing story

It's Wednesday again.  Funny how it keeps coming around...

I haven't made progress on the quilt.  Emily puts me to shame with all her projects.  She's amazing.  And she has an actual job as well.  I mean, really, there is no excuse for me to be so behind, but the quilting fervor I had before moving disappeared.  I was using quilting as a way to procrastinate packing.  Funny how that pattern keeps coming around...

Put now the two sides of the quilt are done and the next step is giving me anxiety.  I tried doing a bit of online research about batting (or wadding as they call it here) and I got all worked up about how I did my quilt wrong.

Before I continue, I should say that I don't think there is just one way to piece fabric together correctly, but thousands of women (and some men) have gone before me and figured out the kinks and I just plunged headlong into sewing pieces together without much thought about what came next.  This could bite me in the butt.

Let's forget that I have no idea if I want cotton, polyester or wool batting (as I have no idea how the quilt will be used and apparently this is the deciding factor in this multiple choice hell), but it turns out I went about my sizing of the back all wrong.

I was working under the assumption that the front and back should be of the same size.  You make a sandwich with the batting as the meat and then stitch it all together and slap on some binding around the edges.  However, every bit of 'batting sizing' advice I could find told me this...

"The batting should be cut larger than the front of the quilt, but smaller than the back."

It took me awhile to understand this statement.  I fancy I have decent spatial awareness, something to do with the Geography training perhaps, but I could not wrap my head around how this arrangement was physically possible when the front and back of the quilts are the same size.

...unless the back is supposed to be bigger than the front.  Are you freaking kidding me??!!!

Is this some secret of quilting that everyone knows but no one says?  Because it is a given that any fool with a sewing machine knows?

image from here

This is not the first time my ignorance is blinding obvious.  A few months ago, Emily and I were having a twitter discussion about t-shirt quilts and she casually asked me, "are you using a ballpoint needle or stabilizer for your shirts?"

................?????

I had to respond that I had no idea what either of those two things were, so no, I wasn't using them.  I was using the foot and needle that came with the machine and any thread I could find and any bobbin that was wound and a 'shitload' of straight pins (that's a technical term). I had no advice on thread tension or stitch.

The truth is out now.  I'm a hack.

I went into this project relying on the sewing knowledge and skill passed on to me from my mother, grandmother and the women of the circus.  I was following my gut and instincts.  It was an experiment of sorts.

Could I create a passable quilt out of memories and scraps?
Could the essence of this traditional craft be simple and instinctual?
Could the very simple instructions of good side in, sew together, open be universal enough?


Well, the quilt isn't done yet.  But I think I am going back to winging it.  I started this journey with the idea of harnessing past memories and skills handed down.  That's not to say that the many tutorials out there are not cut of the same cloth, but they are cold to me at the moment.  I don't know the women behind them and they don't know me.  The advice is useful but impersonal.  I'm not looking for an instruction manual, I'm looking for a story.

For now, my story is one of imperfect improvisation.  An honoured tradition to all the women that taught me to sew.  Funny how it keeps coming around.




What's yours?

The show must go on

Soundtrack: The Greatest Show on Earth (film)

Inspiration: You can shake the sawdust out of your boots but you can never shake it out of your heart.  


The day I tackled the remainder of the circus block, I wasn't planning to quilt.  But, as I flipped through the TV channels, it just so happened “The Greatest Show on Earth” was playing.  How could I pass up a sign like that?

After the frustration that was the socks and fishnet piece, I wasn’t thrilled to get back to it.  I wasn’t even sure how that piece was going to work with everything else.  I had been so out of whack making it that I didn’t really think about how it might translate to the bigger project.  So I left it aside when I started.

Much like my time in the circus, this block proved to be a turning point in the larger project.

First, I moved my work space from the dark kitchen to the slightly brighter living room.  At the time this was to watch the film while sewing, but now it works for floor space.
Second, I began to see the quilt as a whole instead of focusing on each section.  This block was created with the resulting quilt (or show) in mind as opposed to just fitting it to itself.
Third, this section was the first to be created solely out of pieces yet to be cut, which left me with a lot of excess material.


But let’s get to the sewing.

As I said, this piece needed to be cut first.  This caused me a bit of pause.  It’s one thing to put aside shirts you know you won’t wear again, it’s another thing to cut them up when they are perfectly useable.  I didn’t have nearly as much to work with in this section as I did with the others.  Only five shirts and a pair of rainbow striped underwear.  Two of the shirts had only pocket designs.  I started with those and cut out a simple square leaving the rest of the shirt relatively whole.

As I have said before, once the first cut is made, it all just becomes a bit of material.  The pocket designs freed of their excess, I moved on to the larger designs.  Soon I was left with just a few squares and rectangles.

I began as I always do and started laying them out in some pattern.  And again, I couldn’t see where I wanted to go.  And again, I started by connecting pieces of similar shape to create larger shapes.  

Let me pause here to note how similar this repetitiveness is to the experience of the circus.  Every day is a new town and new set up, but every  day is also the same routine again and again.  Every time I start a block it is a new set up and experience, but the steps that get me to the end are surprisingly similar every time.  This isn’t unique to circus life, but it is a relationship I spent a lot of time observing and recording.  Those observations and resulted writings earned me a PhD, so I guess it is something I notice.

As I moved on with the block I noticed other ways in which this particular section reminded me of the circus.
As I began to piece this section together, I realized this would be the last section of the quilt.  This caused me to pause in my usual improvisation.  If this was going to be the last section, it needed to be built in such a way to stand on its own but also connect to the others (just like a singular act in the circus).  Before now, I had created each completely independent from the rest.  That couldn’t happen here.

The other pieces came out and I began, for the first time, to think about the whole of the project.  How would these pieces fit together?  Would they fit together?

It turns out they would.  Those extra strips I had left from the ‘zen block’ proved to be the perfect pieces to work as connectors between the previous two sections and this last one.

What started as a block, became a long strip to anchor the other sections.

In order to finish this section I had to work in the moment as well as think ahead and remember what I had done previously.  Again, a relationship I observed during my time on the road and which translates beyond the ring of the circus.

What I’m thinking ahead to is what I am going to do for the back of the quilt?  As I said earlier, this section left me with a lot of excess material as it was the only one to start as whole pieces.  Have I learned enough over the last few weeks to make a back piece completely out of scraps?

It seems a tall order, maybe impossible.

But as they say, "nothing is impossible when you work for the circus."

The B*tch Block

Soundtrack: Bruce Cockburn, Stealing Fire

Inspiration: "As for material, any old, worn, or used clothing would be fine..."


11AM
Showered, hair & make-up, laundry in, porridge done, music on.  Big skirt, ballerina, but maxi.  Makes hips look twice their size.  Fight the temptation to switch to the laptop and surf the web, just a little more research.  Instead, pull the cutting mat and rotary cutter out of their plastic and open the bags of t-shirts.

Feel a little overwhelmed by the collection amassed here in just one bag. Circus. Family. Pete and Africa. University.  And these are just the shirts already cut up, I haven’t even begun to look at the other pieces still intact.

During the last two weeks of ‘research,’ I had the idea of creating traditional patterns with these clothes and t-shirts.  But I can’t bring myself to chop them up even more.  I am intimidated.  Scared to cut through a word or logo, scared of what might be lost.  I go with the original idea of a t-shirt quilt.  Or at least I will start practicing with the t-shirt pieces.

I’m drawn to the ‘university’ pile.  Maybe because there is a lot to work with there.  Maybe because of the music.  It’s the activist/angry feminist pile.  I realize it actually spans more than my four years of university (it goes all the way to my master’s degree) but it is a particular version of myself that doesn’t really exist anymore.  Dark red thread.  The colour of angry feminist activist? Maybe.  But it is the bobbin already wound.

I’m overwhelmed by the smell of all this jersey.  It smells like my childhood or my dad.  It reminds me instantly of my parents’ house.  But that isn’t the house I grew up in.  Did the smell move with them or does every t-shirt smell this way?  I notice my cat’s hair on the darker pieces.  I cut these on the green carpet of the TV room which is always a little dull with cat hair.  I watched Steel Magnolias while I cut.

Not sure how to proceed, I start cleaning up the cuts and isolating the text or logos.  I start to lay out the pieces on the kitchen floor, but I can’t see a pattern.  It seems like an ambitious step.  I pick two some smaller logos and sew them together.  Then sew those to a bigger piece.  Then those to a bigger piece.
At every flip of a seam, I smile.  Big.  A huge goofy grin.  I patiently pull out each straight pin, flip over the seam and become ecstatic with such a simple effort.

There is a gap.  The series of words could be pieced to fill it, but which ones?  I pick three out of the seven that are applicable to myself then, but also now.  Words that stayed with me.  That don’t feel as jarring.
The music choice for today begins to seem appropriate.  I didn’t plan it, but maybe it influenced my choice of time period.  A little rebellion, outrage, impotence.

Over the course of the next four hours, I swear I listen to the album at least 20 times.  The lyrics start to make sense and I begin to see how the rhythmic choices reflect the feeling and ‘place’ of the song.  I have fuzzy pictures of my parents as I listen to it, of my dad getting riled up and frustrated, of my mom dancing.  I remember how cocky and sure I was of the world and my place in it.  I remember how that assurance lost my dream job.  I remember getting riled up and frustrated.  How exhausted I became trying to maintain a level of outrage.  How I now leave it to others to get riled up.  How I am envious of their commitment  but also a little thankful I am no longer so angry.  How I see more value in influencing the younger generation than trying to change minds so firmly set.

I chuckle and the ‘revolution’ because all I ever did was bitch.  I was too scared to start a revolution outside my little bubble of liberal arts education where ‘token activism & rebellion’ was fostered and encouraged.

As I sew I have visions of Gramma Rosa and Mom in my head.  Fuzzy images, not specific, just there.  The two women that taught me everything I know about sewing and using a sewing machine. I can’t remember particular lessons, but I know it was them.  I remember Mom as I attempt to thread the machine needle, noticing that my hands move as her’s do.  Is this unconscious mimicry or DNA?

Suddenly, and eventually, I get all the shirts into a messy block.  I started with just two small pieces, thinking I would just mess a bit and kept going.  I remember there are more shirts behind me on the floor.  Laying them out, I realise I had created the beginning of a square, all the pieces fit together and the colours just work.

But the square is a bit raggedy.  I think I should leave it, but I’m not ready to be done and I also feel it’s not done.  The scraps from earlier trimming lay around the block on the floor and make me think of a border.  But I immediately baulk at the idea.  Creating a border means it won’t ‘fit’ with other shirts.  It will stand alone.  I hesitate.  Do I want to demarcate this part of me?  Am I ready to box up this part of who I was/am?

That seems too deep for sewing.

I just want to keep sewing.

I go with the urge to sew.  It is right now and undeniable.

I’m flying on the machine now and because I am working so fast, I sew the wrong sides together.  I go with it.  A mistake, a lesson, built in to the block.  I make it part of the design.

1PM
I take a break.  I sit with it.  I look at it, there on my kitchen floor.  I look at the connections between pieces, I think about the order in which to sew.  I notice unintentional squares of colour and work to ensure they stay.  I unpick a few stitches here and there to make corners neat.  I marvel at how easy it seems to be coming together.

The block is getting heavier, t-shirt heavy.  I have to be careful with the feed and the foot and pin placement.  This awareness makes me feel more confident.

Music still going.  Each seam still brings a grin.

And then it’s done.  The chequered corners meeting perfectly.  I’m not sure how I managed it without ironing or ‘stiffening’ but I am really pleased.
I trim it up and admire it, there on the kitchen floor.

3PM
I slowly begin to clean up.  Fabric and t-shirts away, clothes back in the bags, scraps in another bag.  Sewing machine apart and back in its chest.  Finally, I iron.  As I iron I think about Grams again.  Just general, no specific memory, just a presence.

And then it’s done.  Again.  I have a square of my life and I am immensely proud of it.


* from How to Make an American Quilt by Whitney Otto

Sew it begins

Some things you should know before we start: 

~You can expect a lot more of that. Messy puns and the like. Also, a lot of sarcasm and probably a bit of cursing.
~I'm an out-of-work academic. By which I mean I am not paid for my research and writing.  However, I am an academic so I approach most things as a research opportunity and spend more time analysing than actually doing.
~Also, I am a champion procrastinator.  Have been for years.
~I swing between obsessive pack-rat tendencies and righteous de-cluttering sprees.
~I'm slightly frightened of my sewing machine.
So, in general, the perfect person to start quilting.

Double Wedding Ring
Image found here

I have had this idea to start quilting for about a year now.  I have read a few books and watched a movie and went at my t-shirts with a pair of kitchen shears and the glass panes from picture frames as cutting guides, but it didn't go much further.  It didn't go any further, in fact.

I'm not sure why.  Actually, that's not entirely true.  I do know why.  Quilting is work.  Dedicated, intricate, long work.  I don't have that kind of attention span.  I mean I only finished my PhD because I scheduled my wedding date.  Otherwise, that might have dragged on another three years.

However, it is because of my lack of attention that quilting calls to me.  It seems to me at once a painstaking time-suck and a mindful meditation.  The zen of quilting, if you will.

Continuing on this line of thought, there are contradictions about quilting (in my mind) which I find fascinating as an academic, but also as a woman.  I don't love traditional quilting patterns, I have to admit, but I love the idea of a traditional quilting bee.  Women coming together with their scraps and needles and skill and stories and creating something which has a bit of each of them but is greater than it's sum of parts.  I am drawn to the 'modern' quilting patterns of colour blocks and improv piecework, but I'm not thrilled with the idea of quilting alone, wrestling with my machine and stubborn bobbins.

A few years ago I spent 5 months on the road with a circus.  It was grueling and fantastic all at once.  I learned so much about being a wife, mother and woman during those months of endless mud and driving and performing.  It was in the circus I was re-introduced to a kind of physical memory and storytelling.  I experienced how tangible those moments can be for teaching a physical skill, from climbing a rope to mending tights, as well as maintaining a way of life.  I had been in school for so long I forgot the best way to learn about something is to do it.


Two years now I have been a reluctant housewife and in those two years I have learned to find joy in cooking for my two-person family, creating a comfortable, and relatively clean, home and taking on the mending and altering of our clothes.  It has been a struggle to let myself enjoy these things as I was taught they were the yokes which confine women to the home and stifle our ambition and potential.  But after two years, I have come to disagree with these teachings.  Sure, there are many days when I feel trapped by my life of laundry and 'leisure' and feel taken-for-granted or my talents wasted.  But there are also days when I feel proud of something I created which gave joy or comfort to my family and friends.  More pride than I ever felt as an academic with a well-argued article.  There is something very tangible and satisfying in the role of housewife (at times) and I believe in the role of quilter as well.

All that being said, I still have yet to start.

I have excuses, sure (any procrastinator worth their salt has a grab-bag of excuses for anything and everything) but I'm going to try and work past them.

First and foremost, I have begun to identify the pieces in our wardrobe and home which I will transform into something resembling a quilt.  This is an ongoing process.  I have a few bags stuffed in our under-stair storage already earmarked for this purpose but I have a feeling I will be adding more.

Second, I am trying to decide between using a pattern or just free-forming it.  As a complete beginner, I feel I should probably use a pattern or kit, but I also have a very strong feeling I am going to Frankenstein some tutorials together and see where it takes me.

But before I make any real decisions on to-pattern or not-to-pattern, I will acquire a rotary cutter, measuring tool of sorts and cutting mat to replace my current kit of kitchen shears, picture frame glass and living room carpet.

Any suggestions are very welcome.