Fiber Haven

Back to Imperfect

2012-01-27T12:25:00.002-05:00

I haven't blogged in a while. My plan for an imperfect 2012 was to blog more regularly. I haven't. That's alright, I guess, because it is imperfect.

But what isn't alright is why I haven't been blogging. It took a little introspection to figure why, but now that I know, my solution is to put it out there.

And so, I have a confession to make: I'm scared.

Downright terrified.

And immobilized with fear.

Why so scared? Because a couple weeks ago I went into my studio and painted this:

It was incredibly fun and relaxing and I was so shocked when I was done. It was beautiful to me and I didn't know I was capable of it. I had never really painted before. Sure, I have used paint to make paper-cloth, but that was more a matter of slapping it down to create texture. This was a series of purposeful choices, playing with different paint colors and types of brushes, to create a painting that reflected my voice.

So, a couple days later I painted this:

Again I surprised myself. Over the next week or two, I painted a couple more and each time I felt an incredible satisfaction of self-expression.

And then all of a sudden I stopped. I stayed out of my studio and found other things to do with my time. I wanted to go back and paint some more, but I was resisting. I walked around with a tightness in my chest. I couldn't pinpoint what was going on.

So I grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a scratchy pen (scratchy pens are my writing implement of choice when trying to figure out something) and started journaling. The first couple paragraphs were about everyday worries: why is the cat vomiting again? Why is the car leaking oil? And just how much will fixing the cat and the car cost?

But it wasn't until I turned my thoughts to painting and my studio and art that I began to figure out what was going on. I wrote "Fear. Fear. Fear. I'm so scared right now of what I have done. What if I can't do it again?"

And oh boy did that make everything make sense. Originally, I painted for fun, without fear of failure because "Hey, if I painted something ugly, then that was all part of being imperfect anyway." But as I continued I became attached to the idea of making beautiful things and I lost that freedom of being okay with failure.

So fear struck and resistance formed and I walked around with a lump in my chest as my desire to go paint tangled with my fear of failure.

Once I realized that, it was like finding freedom again. This year is about allowing myself to be IMPERFECT, to make mistakes, to have failures, but to always get up and try again. It's not about clinging so desperately to success that I don't try anything at all.

So back into the studio I go.

And I decided to share this because it's real and honest and imperfect. And maybe it will inspire someone to face their fear that is holding them back.

A Quick Calendar Quilt

2012-01-01T13:18:00.000-05:00

As I have been thinking about my Imperfect theme for 2012, I remembered one very serious plan I had for 2011. My goal was to create a calendar quilt that charted my progress with my very serious goals. I thought hard about how to track days when I was serious about art versus days when I was not. I wanted the calendar to have a different form from the traditional calendar layout. I spent many days drafting different possibilities in my art journal.

But because I was so serious about this calendar, I never actually made a final decision as to what it would look like or what meaning it would convey. After all my very serious thinking, I never actually started the quilt.

I still like the idea of making a quilt over the course of a year; I just no longer worry that it is serious or perfect. So this morning, before I headed to my studio, I made a few quick decisions. First, I would use a traditional calendar layout. Second, I decided that each day's piece would finish at 2.5" x 3.5", which would yield a 17.5" finished block for each month. (The blocks then sashed with 2.5" sashing would finish at 64.5" x 84.5", which is a nice cozy throw size.) Third, I would use a utilitarian fabric like muslin or osnaburg for the empty blocks for each month. Fourth, I would just choose a yummy fabric for each day, regardless of whether I was imperfect about art or not. Fifth, I would break up the heaviness of the prints with a simple white fabric.

Here's a really rough sketch in Electric Quilt of what I envision. January is the top-left block. The calendar runs in four rows, with December being the bottom-right block.

You are welcome to join me if you like! It's sinple!

1) For each day, choose a fabric and cut a 3" x 4" rectangle from it.
2) Sew each day into a calendar format of seven days a week and five weeks a month.
3) Use a plain fabric for the empty days on the calendar format. (Shown by the grayish blocks on each month.)
4) Sash the block with the same fabric. Cut the sashing strips 3" so they finish at 2.5"
5) After 366 days (it is a leap year!), enjoy the easiest quilt you have ever made!

On Choosing a Word for 2012

2011-12-31T16:14:00.000-05:00

I've chosen my word for 2012. I don't do resolutions, so to speak, but instead choose words that work as my overarching theme for the year ahead. In the past I've chosen things like Say Yes!, Creative Personal Growth, Mindfulness, and Bliss. I find these words are kinder than resolutions and can lead to amazing things.

Last year I chose Serious Art as my word. I chose the word with the best of intentions. This is what I wrote at the time.

For 2011 my theme is Serious Art, which means approaching art in a deliberate and contemplative way and making sure that it becomes part of my daily routine (regardless of how hectic life seems). I'm developing a course of study for the year, for lack of a better term.

I detailed a list of seven bullet points that I wanted to achieve over the year. As I looked back over the year, I realized that I didn't achieve my lofty goals. And I know why.

Serious Art was way too serious. It connected with my traits of competitiveness, thoroughness, procrastination, and perfectionism. I had it all planned out: I would read so many pages a week, create so many pieces a month, connect with so many artists a season. Every step was planned. Every lesson was scheduled. Art would become a second job that I would take seriously.

Which is exactly why I had problems. It didn't exactly fail: I did create nine pieces in a series of nine-patches, I kept an art journal through most of the year, and I took a week-long workshop with Fran Skiles that was absolutely amazing.,

But at the same time, my approach to being serious about art kept me from really creating art. Why? Because my competitive, perfectionist, and procrastinating voices would say "Hey, wait a minute! You're not doing it the right way. You have to be serious about this." Because if I wasn't being serious about my art, then what was the point?

Enough of that.

So as I was thinking about my word for 2012, only one word popped into my head.

IMPERFECT.

As soon as I thought it, I felt a great sense of relief. I knew right then that IMPERFECT is my word for 2012.

Imperfect is messy and fun. It can be beautiful. It requires acceptance (and if I can't accept something, well then that is imperfect too). It's about releasing ridiculously high standards. It's about creating with abandon, giving with joy, and offering myself without shame. Imperfect is liberation.

I've been living this word for the past week and have already noticed changes. For years, my rule has been to have a spotlessly clean house by New Year's Eve. So that has meant the week between Christmas and New Year's has been full of decluttering, vacuuming, dusting, washing floors, and other household chores. But this year that seemed really boring to me. Our house is in pretty good shape generally. And I had so many other fun things that I wanted to do.

So with imperfect in mind, I started asking myself questions. Where did that rule come from? I realized that I created it myself and had carved it into my mind as something that had to be. Did I need to keep it this year? I decided that "No, I don't need to wear myself out cleaning house this year." So I didn't clean. I tidied a bit and kept up with basic chores, but we didn't tear out the closets looking for hidden clutter and we didn't pull out the mop and buckets.

And you know what? Here we are at New Year's Eve and my house isn't spotless and I feel fine. The world has not come to an end!

And I've taken imperfect into the studio. For the past couple days I have played with gesso and watercolor crayons and paint pens and acrylic paints and stencils and stamps to bring an imperfect vibe into my art. I don't want my art to be neat and tidy and perfect. I want it to sing, to be alive, to vibrate with energy. I want it to be full of joy. I want to create it with abandon. And I want to be able to share it without worrying whether it lives up to some standard.

This is a stretch for me. It is more comfortable to be perfect. Because if I am not perfect, then I have an excuse for not showing up. Well, it wasn't going to be perfect anyway, so why bother.

But if the goal is to be imperfect, then I can create with abandon and share without shame.

So without further adieu, may I present to you my first piece of intentionally imperfect art.

I wish you an imperfect New Year, full of messiness and fun and joy and liberation. Step out and create!

On the Importance of a Single Lampshade to Exercise

2011-11-27T17:33:00.000-05:00

Can rearranging furniture lead to a change in a lifetime's thinking about exercise? Oddly enough, the answer appears to be yes.

My husband recently rearranged the family room furniture. He created a beautiful office space for himself within the book-lined walls at the back of the room. But, a consequence is that our treadmill--that once had a perfect view of both the television and backyard--had to be moved. Its new home is an awkward location: you have to walk around it to get to the seating area and the viewing angle for the television and outdoors is uncomfortable. But his new work space is lovely, so I am happy to walk around the treadmill.

We've had that treadmill for many years now. We bought it with best of intentions. We wanted to be able to to exercise regularly, regardless of the weather conditions, while watching whatever we wanted on television. And sometimes my intentions matched reality: I used it regularly while I watched old movies and art quilting programs. But more often it sat lonely and neglected.

The other day I was reflecting on how the winter's loss of light affects me. I am less active and spend less time outside. My energy drags and I can feel low. I decided right then that I would get on the treadmill and see how more consistent activity would counteract the lack of light.

I set the treadmill to a slow speed and started walking. It was a different experience walking on the treadmill in its new home. Instead of a view of the television or backyard, I had a perfect view of a single, white lampshade.

At this point, I need to share something: I have a fairly competitive personality. I was one of those annoying kids in grade school who would race to finish tests first and then invariably get an A. When I was in high school, I was part of a very competitive group of friends who competed over grades, accolades, and awards. Although I was a very good student, the unrelenting competition diminished my desire to compete with others. But it did not mean that I stopped competing with myself.

So when on the treadmill, for example, I would try to better my previous day's result. I would want to go faster, or longer, or on a steeper incline than I did the day before. I'd keep charts of all the statistics--mileage, time, calories burned--and gave myself gold stars for my personal bests.

What would inevitably happen is that I would burn myself out. I'd force myself through tougher and tougher workouts until I was red-faced, sweaty, and out of breath. I'd get shin splints and muscle strains from increasing the difficulty too quickly. Is it any wonder that the treadmill so often sat lonely and neglected?

So there I was, on my treadmill, looking at a white lampshade. I couldn't turn on the television to distract and entertain me while I pushed past my limits. I couldn't let my mind wander as I gazed at the backyard. All I could do was look at a white lampshade. So what I decided to do was to walk very mindfully, using the white lampshade as a focal point.

I focused my attention on how the muscles in my legs felt as I took each step, on how the air felt traveling through my nostrils as I inhaled, and on how it passed through my mouth as I exhaled. Whenever I wanted to look at the display to see how long I had walked or how fast, I would return my attention to the white lampshade. Whenever I wanted to speed up or raise the incline, I would return my attention to the white lampshade.

After walking for a while, I decided that I would stop while I wanted to keep going (rather than keep going until I had to stop). I got off the treadmill, did some simple stretches, and realized how energized I felt by taking it easier (rather than how exhausted I would usually feel after overdoing it).

Walking mindfully changed my experience. That would be my new approach to exercise. I set myself a few simple rules to counteract my natural tendency to compete with myself and also to promote a more mindful experience.

I would set myself a time limit for each session.
I could stop before I hit the time limit but I could not exceed it.
I could increase the time limit once a week, but no more than a 10% increase.
If I had the urge to speed up or increase the incline, then I would slow down or decrease the incline.
I would get off the treadmill while I still wanted to keep going.
When my mind wanders I return my attention to the white lampshade.

What it boils down to is that I get on the treadmill because I get on the treadmill. I don't get on the treadmill to walk faster than the day before, or to burn a certain number of calories, or to walk longer than I ever have. I don't have any other goal than to get on the treadmill. The action itself (to get on the treadmill) is the goal (to get on the treadmill).

This has revolutionized my approach to exercise. It's easier to get on the treadmill because that is all I have to do. Once I am on it, I have achieved my goal. Of course while on it, I enjoy the movement and generally walk until the time limit. It's a gentle and mindful approach that allows me to enjoy movement for movement's sake rather than obsessing about pushing past my limits.

I want to reflect more on this idea of doing something because I do it. Can I apply this more mindful approach to other areas of my life? How would my art change if I simply created art for art's sake, rather than with thoughts of gallery shows or sales? How would my writing change if I wrote because I wrote, rather than thinking about who will read it or whether I can be published? Do these goals I set work for or against me? I'll share with you what I discover.

Thanks for reading. I'd love to read any thoughts you might have.

On Lessons Learned About Hatred

2011-11-14T08:19:00.001-05:00

You take your lessons where you find them. When you watch a national scandal develop on your doorstep, it is cause for reflection. The past week has been difficult for this community as it dealt with the ramifications of the sex abuse allegations.The charges are horrific and reflect a serious betrayal of trust. People are at turns angry and disgusted and heartbroken.

While our community has been reeling from the shocking accusations, the national media has swooped in with wall-to-wall coverage. The unceasing reporting has inflamed the entire nation with anger and hatred. First, it was rightfully directed towards the accused. But as the story developed and the details came out, the anger spread outwards--to the entire athletic department, to the university, and ultimately to the community as a whole.

A blog I read regularly had an angry post attacking not just those involved, but the entire Penn State and State College community for valuing football over human life. The commenters began echoing those sentiments in vile terms. I commented in an attempt to show that people here are concerned with the victims and angered by the situation, but it's hard for a single voice to be heard when the mob starts baying.

Over the week, the anger grew even stronger. Vile, hateful comments flooded social media and the internet, wishing death and destruction on the university, the town, and even the entire state. (This is not an exaggeration. You can do a search on Penn State and easily find them.) The students' vigil at Old Main and the alumni's raising of almost $250,000 in two days for a sex abuse charity have been cynically discarded as "public relations exercises" instead of recognizing that it represents the concern of the community. People with no interest in college football gleefully watched the game Saturday in hopes of seeing violence erupt. Instead, I hope their hearts were softened by moving group prayer offered by both Penn State and Nebraska before the game.

Of course there are plenty of reasons to be angry. It's easy to hate in this situation. What happened was so monstrous, so unconscionable, that anger and hatred is understandable and almost impossible to resist. Everyone I've talked to in our community has been extremely angry. But it's been distressing to watch so much hatred being directed not just at the perpetrator and those whose inaction allowed it to continue, but at this reeling community. So many people are using the actions of a few to malign and attack an entire community of innocent, heartbroken people.

And that has led me to look inward and ask a hard question of myself: do I do the same thing? How often do I read a story that fills me with "righteous anger" that I then allow to spread over an entire community or group of people? The answer shames me because it's more than I would imagine.

It's little comfort to realize that I'm not alone in this. It's an entirely human reaction to divide the world into us and them. And our society encourages that, just read the paper, follow blogs, watch T.V. news, or listen to talk radio. While divisions naturally arise from differences and anger is a normal reaction to cruelty and injustice, you have to nurture these negative feelings to create hatred.

This story is not over for the victims, for the university, or for the community. The weeks and months to come will still be challenging.

So you take your lessons where you find them. After seeing how quickly anger can turn to hatred, I'm going to work hard on my awareness. When I read a story that angers me, I'll acknowledge the anger, but not feed it. When I'm talking with someone and find that conversation is leading down a negative path, I'll check my words and change the nature of the discussion. And when I encounter something that is full of anger and division, I'll close the page or turn it off. It's a small change, but one that I hope can make my little corner of the world a better place.

On Scary Movies, Soccer, and Mindfulness

2011-10-16T09:40:00.003-04:00

I've often wondered why people peek through their fingers during the scary parts of movies. Although I don't watch scary movies much anymore, I can remember covering my eyes during tense moments and looking through the bars of my fingers at the partially-obscured screen. Somehow it makes it better, but why?

A month ago I was curled on the couch watching my favorite soccer team, Liverpool F.C., play Tottenham Hotspur. Within the first five minutes Spurs scored and it was clear that it was not going to be a good day for us. As I watched the game, I realized that I wasn't looking directly at the screen. Instead, I cast my gaze 30-degrees to the right and looked out the patio door, letting the corner of my left eye monitor the game while I gazed at our beautiful Eastern Pine and the blue sky above.

And then two things struck me. First, this is why we watch the scary bits through our fingers; if we're not fully engaged in the movie, if our fingers mediate and restrict our view of the screen, then we don't get as scared.

The second realization is more of a metaphor. My intention was to watch the Liverpool game, but I cast my attention elsewhere. I don't like to see my team lose, so enjoying the view mitigated the dreadful play on the big screen.

But in many ways, this is how we go through life--dividing our attention, never fully mindful of any moment. We drive to work while thinking of what to cook for dinner. We eat lunch while checking facebook. We talk to our spouse while running through a mental to-do list. We do one thing while mentally doing something else. It's like going through life always peeking through your fingers, never fully engaged with the moment.

Mindfulness is continuous awareness of our bodies, emotions, and thoughts, as well as the immediate world around us. When practicing mindfulness, we do one thing at a time and stay present with what we are doing. It is a practice that can lead us to greater peace and understanding.

I use my morning commute as a consistent mindfulness practice. I don't turn on the radio. I don't talk on the phone. Instead I stay present in the moment as I drive. I feel the steering wheel under my hands and notice how the car responds to slight movements. I notice how my body feels: are my muscles tense? did I have enough breakfast? am I thirsty? am I breathing calmly and deeply? I note thoughts and feelings as they occur. With mindfulness practice, I become more aware of the changing seasons and weather: what wildflowers are blooming? what color is the sky? what animals are about? My morning commute becomes rich with awareness as I am reminded each day just how amazing this world is.

The best thing is that even when I slide down the mindless path (and find myself gazing outside while watching a soccer game), I can always start again and return to mindfulness in the next moment.

Solar-Powered Creativity

2011-06-01T08:06:00.006-04:00

Anyone's life truly lived consists of work, sunshine, exercise, soap, plenty of fresh air, and a happy contented spirit.
-Lillie Langtry

It is the artist's business to create sunshine when the sun fails.
-Romain Rolland

My creative energy is deeply linked to the sun. My creative output soars in the summer, when the days are longest and the Central PA gray clouds have been burned away by cheerful sunshine. In the winter, with shorter days and a gloomy sky, I turn into a slug, content to curl up on the couch and merely dream of quilts and collages and crocheted hats. I'll work on a project or two, but it takes much more effort than my summertime work.

Increased summertime creativity is not an uncommon phenomenon. A study of eminent Italian authors found that most reported a sensitivity to seasonal changes that affected mood, sleep patterns, and creative output. Spring and summer were times when they felt the best, slept least, and created the most.

It makes sense too, when you think about the seasons. Spring is a rebirth and reawakening after winter's slumber. Summer is a time of vibrant, fervent, bountiful growth. Autumn is the harvest, when we gather the fruits of our labors. And in winter, we slide into dormancy, hibernation, and regeneration while we wait for the cycle to begin again.

So here I am in the blissful summer sunshine, absolutely overflowing with ideas. I'm waking with the sun and spending my days mindfully engaged in creative tasks (whether an art project, writing instruction handouts, or developing a buying plan for fabric and yarn). My ideas are so abundant that I carry three different notebooks to track them.

As I work through this most creative time, I am also working on developing ways to nurture my creative energy through all its natural phases. The seasons are a cycle, moving through rebirth, to growth, to harvest, to hibernation. And so I am thinking of my creativity as a cycle. I'll take advantage of summer's growth and autumn's harvest to produce and create as much as I can. In the winter, I will rest and regenerate my energy by choosing less demanding projects and seeking out sources of inspiration, so that with spring's next arrival I can begin the cycle again.

But as long as the sun continues to shine, I'll make hay.

We All Have an Artist Within

2011-05-23T16:26:00.002-04:00

Over the weekend I began reading The Artist Within by Whitney Ferre. It spoke to me on a fundamental level because I believe that humans are, at the core, creative beings. To me, life is a series of creative acts: from how we decorate our home, to how we choose to dress, feed and nurture ourselves and our families, and celebrate and share with others. Certainly, in our society, art and music and dance and other pursuits are perceived as being the pinnacle of creative expression. But humans are creative in so many ways beyond that.

Before there was a monetary system or a written language, there was art. As humans, we have been creating art longer than almost any activity. Each of us has an innate desire and ability to express ourselves visually. It was not long ago that every piece of food on our plates, the chair we sat in, the clothes on our backs all came from our own hands. These days, we needn't create anything... Our confidence in our ability to create change has been sabotaged by the luxuries of modern living. Your artist within is an ancient voice that will help you create the change you desire.
-Whitney Ferre, The Artist Within

Occasionally, someone will say to me "I can't do that. I'm not creative." It hurts me to hear someone say those words because I feel it's an act of closure--putting creative expression behind a door that will never be opened. I can't imagine how much it must hurt the person who says it.

If you are one who says to yourself "I can't do that. I'm not creative," I ask if you would be willing to try a little experiment. Catch yourself thinking that and then gently replace those thoughts with these: "I might be able to do that. I am creative." You might feel a little self-conscious and uncomfortable accepting the label of creativity, but give it a try. A simple change may lead to bigger things and then who knows where it'll take you.

(The Improvised Life is one of my favorite blogs because it celebrates the expression of improvise creativity in everyday life.)

Haiku Art Group

2011-01-11T14:50:00.005-05:00

I joined an online haiku art group. Each month we are provided a word to serve inspiration for a haiku and an accompanying work of fiber art. For January (the first month of the group) the prompt was beginnings. You can view my contribution here.

Seduced by Paint

2011-01-03T08:33:00.003-05:00

I should've known it would come to this. I mean, I started quilting because I wanted to play with color and shape. It's true. There I was at the turn of the millennium, dissatisfied with my job in software documentation, completing those self-inventory worksheets to help me find my path in life. You know, the ones that ask you to think about your strengths and interests--what made you happiest as a child, which fictional character you most relate to--so that you can find the right career for you. At the top of my list was playing with color and shape but I didn't know what that meant.

Despite my deep and abiding love for my box of 128 crayons, art was never in the picture. Art seemed like something that other people did and I never thought it applied to me. Fom my vantage point I was left with two option for playing with color and shape: making stained glass or teaching pre-school. For some reason, both seemed like terribly dangerous options.

But then on a routine trip to the mall I discovered my life's passion. The local quilt guild was having an exhibit for National Quilting Day and filled the mall's center stage with an amazing exhibit of quilts of all types. I took one look and that was it. Before I left the mall I had committed to taking a beginning quilting class. Before the first class was over I was hooked. I became a quilter.

Quilting appealed to me because it was like one of my much loved coloring books: all hard edges and sharp forms and well-defined rules. Here you had a quilt block pattern and there you filled it in with fabric. Easy peasy. And in the beginning, that is what I loved: selecting a pattern, choosing fabrics, and then playing with different combinations of colors to fill in the shapes.

I soon discovered that I wasn't content to just use published patterns, so began designing my own. When standard techniques were insufficient to what I wanted to make, I learned new ones. My love for quilting was about more than playing with color and shape within a well-defined set of forms and rules--at the core of it was the desire to express myself. I had first defined myself as a traditional quilter, then as a contemporary quilter, but eventually realized that I had become a quilt artist.

Over the past summer, I ventured outside the lines even more and brought paint and glue and paper into my studio. It was a summer of risk and abandon; playing with bright tubes of thick acrylic paint, collaging reclaimed papers on old upholstery samples, mixing different colors to create my own. I became seduced by the possibilities of paint--how it softened hard edges, smoothed sharp forms, and ignored the rules. In essence, I was making my own fabric, albeit in a non-washable form.

Monday, December 27th, 2010 at 2:34 p.m. was the moment at which I realized where this all has lead. I was making pages in my visual journal using a brayer, gel medium, and pages of an old semiconductor catalog. I thought to myself "If I can get part of this done by March, I can use it in my quilt guild talk." A few beats later I realized that while I might see exactly how this journal with not one shred of fabric nor one stitch relates to my quilt art, it might not be the right direction to take for my talk.

It was one of those incandescent moments that I shall remember for the rest of my life. In one simple, glorious instant I realized that all art is equal. In my mind, there was no distinction between paint and stitch, between paper and fabric, between mixed-media collage and pieced quilts. All was expression, all was vision, all was art.

In that single, revelatory moment, I shed all the modifiers and qualifiers that I had carefully assigned in my self-definition. No longer would I have to self-consciously call myself a quilt artist, a fiber artist, or a textile artist. The bright light of realization sloughed those descriptors away and left standing alone an abiding awareness that resonated deep within. In that shining moment I realized that I am an artist, full stop, without hesitation, reservation, or qualification.

And now that I've shed those rules about what art sits in this category versus that category, I'll use whatever I can get my hands on to try to express my vision. Fabric, paint, stitch, paper, canvas, ink, glue--it's all the same to me, juicy fodder for creation.

Serious Art for 2011

2010-12-14T11:23:00.000-05:00

As each new year approaches I choose a theme to guide my path for the next twelve months. I find that themes are "kinder" than resolutions and provide a singular focus to guide my decision making. In the past, I've chosen themes like Mindfulness, Creative Personal Growth, and Say Yes.

For 2010, my theme was Bliss. This was an odd word to choose because it's not one that I use nor think about very often. Yet, when I was choosing a theme this time last year, Bliss popped into my head and wouldn't go away. So 2010 was the year of Bliss. My goal was to discover my Bliss, that thing in life that makes me jump out of bed each morning desperate to begin my day.

I never really defined what Bliss meant, nor what steps I would take to find my Bliss, which meant that 2010 ended up being a fairly scattered year. I didn't really have a plan for what I wanted to achieve. My only goal was to find my Bliss, whatever that may be. And looking back, I can see how that lack of a serious plan limited me. I don't have much to show for my year in art. There is no pile of completed projects in my studio or box of UFO's tucked in a corner. I'd be hard-pressed to name a significant piece of art that I completed in the first 10 months of the year.

But, the one thing I did do this year was play. I started making paper-cloth from fabric, torn paper, white glue, and acrylic paint as shown in Kelli Nina Perkins' Stitch Alchemy. This is where I found my Bliss, in spilling paint and tearing paper, in mixing colors and spattering ink, in making beautiful, saturated, rich paper cloth. And that's the one thing I have to show for this year: a wonderful selection of paper cloth.

Other than, I don't have much to show in terms of art accomplishments for 2010.

What I do have instead is internal--a complete transformation in how I think about art and myself as an artist. Since I started quilting 10 years ago, I knew that I loved playing with color and shape to make something beautiful out of nothing, but I never really embraced the word "art" to describe what I did. I would call myself a "quilt artist" or "fiber artist," but in a more self-conscious way. I'd call my sewing room my "studio" but feel kind of sheepish about it.

Realizing that art is my Bliss completely changed how I think about it all. Somehow, playing with paint and loving it gave me the freedom to see myself as an artist. I accepted, even embraced, that inner view of self as artist. And I have begun thinking about and creating art in a more serious way.

For 2011 my theme is Serious Art, which means approaching art in a deliberate and contemplative way and making sure that it becomes part of my daily routine (regardless of how hectic life seems). I'm developing a course of study for the year, for lack of a better term. My path for the coming year consists of the following steps:

Work in a series. This fall I began a series that combines paper cloth with improvisational patchwork. I have two completed pieces and ideas for five others. I commit to completing at least nine pieces in this series. I am also remaining open to beginning another series if I am called to do so.
Keep an art journal. Over the past year I have found a way to keep an art journal that captures everything I think, see, learn,and hear about art. I want to continue this process.
Keep a sketchbook. This is a little different from an art journal. The emphasis is on improving observational skills--how I see the world--and expressive abilities--how I communicate what I see.
Study artists. How do you look at an artwork and have a dialogue with it, with a focus on their expression through the elements of design and techniques of their medium? By developing an understanding of other artists' work I hope to improve the quality of my own work.
Study process. Over the past year, I have been inspired by the blogs of Lisa Call, Elizabeth Barton, and Kathy Loomis, among others. They write very thoughtfully about the process of making art. Over the coming year, I'd like to expand out and read more about process from different artists in different media.
Take a serious class or two. I've identified a couple week-long classes that I believe mesh with my goals, vision, and expressive voice. I want to commit to at least one and possibly both, if I can find the time and money.
Identify shows or contests and submit work. This is probably the most intimidating goal on my list! I can see getting to the point where just making a piece and putting it in a pile with other finished works will not satisfy me, where I will need to get my work out in public and see what people think of it. I am not there yet, but if I can submit a piece or two this year, I might just learn that it doesn't actually hurt!

I am truly inspired by my charted course. I wake early every morning to journal and further consider what Serious Art means to me. I'm in the midst of clearing up work projects that have absorbed my creative energy for the past month. But I can sense there is a wellspring of creative energy still lurking, waiting to be inspired by my dedication to Serious Art.

On Kindness

2010-07-22T22:16:00.002-04:00

I was quite sensitive as a child. I remember crying once while watching Tom and Jerry. Not only did I sympathize with Jerry the Mouse's constant struggle to foil the diabolical plans of Tom the Cat, but I also felt very compassionate towards Tom's suffering when he was unable to achieve his goal. I left the television to play outside because the show just seemed too cruel. Perhaps I was a bizarre child, but then I tend to believe that children generally are. It's what makes them fantastic.

Today I felt a little like that child again. I read several things on the internet that hurt my heart. They weren't especially cruel--no more than the typical joke at someone else's expense or a quick judgment offered out of frustration--but they struck me as decidedly unkind. Even though I didn't know the people involved, the comments made me feel sad. As I contemplated my sadness, I realized that I had been holding an unkind thought in my own mind. I opened my heart to compassion and let it go.

I searched online for some reading on kindness and found a new-to-me kindness quote that resonated deep within:

Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.
~Og Mandino

It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes:

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.
~Plato

And I decided that I just needed to share them.

New Blog: Kim at SYAO

2010-07-22T07:06:00.002-04:00

I've started a new Stitch Your Art Out blog called Kim at SYAO (catchy title, huh?), which is where you can find the latest news on what we're doing at the shop. So subscribe there to learn about new classes, samples, and fabrics, projects I'm working on for the shop, and even Block of the Month design secrets.

I'll reserve this blog for my musings on art, creativity, and mindfulness. Now that I've found my bliss, which sits a little outside what I am doing at the shop (although in my mind they are perfectly related and inseparable), I feel a need to draw a distinction. Even though I see the lines between what I do at the shop and what I create at home as blurred, I realize that not everyone will share that view.

So I'm happy to write two blogs to minimize the confusion and you can read one or the other or (hopefully) both!

It's as Simple as Bliss

2010-07-21T17:55:00.002-04:00

Blog hiatuses always seem to require an explanation, but as I've been thinking about why I haven't blogged in 6+ months, I realized that my story is really of interest only to me, possibly my mother, and my future biographer (HA!). Suffice it to say that having stopped blogging, it was really hard to start up again. That darn inertia. (Being married to a physicist has its perks. I can blame my laziness on immutable laws of the universe.)

Unsurprisingly, my blogging hiatus coincided with an art hiatus, and it's only been the past couple weeks really where I have found myself slipping back into high gear, rather than trudging through the doldrums (and mixing my metaphors).

And now if you would indulge a seemingly tangential story, I promise you that it leads right back to the present.

A year ago (or more or less, my sense of time for this is distorted), I followed a link in an email to Christine Reed's blog, BlissChick, where she writes about discovering and truly living an artful life of bliss. The first post I read was on mindfulness, which is something that speaks to me deeply. I added her to my bloglines subscriptions, even though I thought the concept of living your bliss to be a little "hooey." But something niggled to me to subscribe and I did.

At the time, I was living a good, creative life. And it was a very good life. Co-owning Stitch Your Art Out with Cynthia surrounds me with creativity and community every day. It is a blessing to be able to share the joys of fiber art and craft with so many. At home, my husband encouraged me to work on my own fiber art and find my voice as an artist. And for a while I did, leading to the Bellefonte Exhibit and the Centre Pieces Quilt Show. But then I fell into a artistic slump and created nothing for months.

All the while, I kept reading Christine's blog, kept learning about how she found her bliss , and realized that something was missing. I was happy and comfortable, but where was my bliss? The question kept niggling at me. I knew I was ready to expand my life and move forward as an artist.

But what was my bliss?

I had an inkling it was in mixed-media. I liked the idea of blending paper and paint and stitch and cloth. For months I collected paints, books, and ideas. I surrounded myself with intentions and wielded my supplies like a totem, as though wishing and wanting are enough in themselves.

It took more courage than I realized to head into my studio and begin to create in this new media. I prepared some journal pages and some paper-cloth substrates. It took a couple days in this humidity before they were cured enough to work with. I started painting and inking and within minutes was enthralled in creative ecstasy. I learned to break the rules and find that I can create something beautiful from cloth and paper and glue and ink and paint and stitch.

Every day since then has been a revelation. I see the world in a completely different way. Everything seems possible now. I know that I'm still learning about this new method of expression. And I'm open to it for however long it takes.

I discovered who I am in a truly meaningful and life-altering way: I am an artist and I need to create. I had found my bliss.

I think back to that little niggling voice that compelled me to subscribe to Christine's blog even though I thought it was "hooey." It's like part of me knew that I needed to find my bliss. I kept reading because I was so compelled by her story. And by following her story, I came to understand the concept of bliss. That understanding changed my life: because in order to find something, you must first believe that it is real.

It really is as simple as bliss.

January 2, 2010

2010-01-02T11:35:00.003-05:00

January 1, 2010

2010-01-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

Searching for Inspiration

2009-10-19T12:26:00.001-04:00

The last couple months have been crazy as I've rushed to finish projects for The World of Stitches exhibit and my local guild quilt show. Last Sunday, October 11th, I met the last of my deadlines and immediately found myself at loose ends. I sat on my couch that night and realized, with a shock, that I had nothing to work on.

After weeks of spending every free moment--and stealing moments from other commitments--finishing my projects, I found myself unburdened by deadlines. For weeks, these deadlines provided structure to my life and, without them, I felt lost. It was an empty feeling.

I wasn't sure what to do, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. I had to catch up on my backlog of studiously ignored chores and prepare for weekend company. A freak mid-October snowstorm canceled those plans and I decided to use the unexpected weekend to just hang out with Kevin.

That's not to say that the past week was completely bereft of creative activity.

Leslie Lacika spoke to my quilt guild about using non-traditional fabrics in quilts. Although I don't need much encouragement in that area--I love the challenges of combining fabrics like osnaburg, cottons, polyester, and even pleather--Leslie made the suggestion of using deconstructed garments from thrift stores.

I had never considered that, but immediately made plans to visit our local thrift store. I walked out with an armful of linen, wool, woven, and even some knit garments that I washed and dried without regard for the care tags. (Another brilliant suggestion from Leslie!) And then I spent an enjoyable Sunday afternoon deconstructing them. I'm excited by the palette I have and am sure to be inspired once I dive into the studio with them

I also missed my evening stitching projects. For the past couple months, I've done plenty of hand stitching while spending time with Kevin. So I excavated an 8-year old wallhanging (a Harmonic Convergence quilt begun in a Ricky Tims' class) that I had started machine quilting. I decided to use it as a practice piece to play with the interaction between hand stitching and the quilt design.

And I selected yarn colors for a crocheted afghan, which is another nightly stitching project.

Oddly enough, I'm missing those deadlines and the bursts of creative growth they inspired. Of course, there are natural cycles to everything--periods of intense growth followed by periods of rest and hibernation, but I can't help but miss that incredible sense of focus that I had.

Another busy week ahead means I'll only have a chance to putter around the edges of creativity, rather than having the opportunity to dive right in again. I'll have to take what time I can to play and create. I feel a need to keep the pump primed, so to speak, so that I can jump back in as soon as my life outside of art settles.

How have you dealt with finishing deadlines? Do you jump back into another commitment? Use the time to catch up on the rest of your life? Putter around until inspiration strikes? Sleep? I'd love to hear your strategies.

On Inspiration, Deadlines, and Internet Friends

2009-10-12T18:39:00.006-04:00

Inspiration is a lovely thing. What's more exciting than having a vision jump into your mind just begging to be created? It feels like a gift--one to be celebrated and realized, not ignored and squandered. When inspiration strikes, you have to act--it's as though you have no choice. It drives you to cast aside all the mundane realities of life and absorb yourself in a project.

This is a wonderful thing for your vision, but can wreck havoc on the rest of your life. If you are lucky, the people in your life understand and support you when you head off on one of this wild adventures of creation. I'm lucky to have such people--both in real life and on the internet.

Having such support is especially helpful because the thing about inspiration is, you can't plan for it. It happens at the oddest, perhaps even the most inconvenient times, and you are powerless in front of it.

Case in point: the quilt I delivered yesterday for exhibition in my local guild's quilt show. But, first a bit of background is needed to explain just how inconvenient these inspirations were.

In August, I was invited to participate in the exhibit A World of Stitches: Applique Art from Benin, Panama, and Pennsylvania. This was an exciting opportunity to display the 112 pieces I made over the course of my Early Morning Club project, but as you can imagine, required a bit of work to sew all 112 pieces to two panels of patio screening. My pieces were due on Thursday, September 10th.

I finished everything and delivered it on time, leading me to my next project, which was to create a challenge quilt for my guild. I had a vision in mind and didn't want to pass up the opportunity to create it. I worked hard the rest of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, finishing it thirty minutes before the deadline on Sunday. (I was so rushed that I did not have time to take a picture, but it was based on London Calling by The Clash and incorporates a picture I took in Piccadilly Circus in London.)

As I was driving to the meeting, inspiration struck: CREATE A QUILT OF THE LIFE PRESERVER PICTURE. I was gifted a full-fledged vision of another quilt, this one based on a photo of a solitary life preserver I took along the Mersey River in Liverpool. When I got to the meeting, I quickly sketched out my vision.

And then I did a crazy thing: I committed to have that quilt done by October 12th for submission into the guild's quilt show. This is on top of the other four quilts I submitted, of which on two were completed.

But my inspiration was so strong, my vision was so vivid, that I could not betray it by ignoring it and pretending that it didn't exist. Besides, I figured I had almost four weeks to get everything done. I warned my husband that I had visions to realize and that meals and house cleaning would be spare over the next few weeks.

When I got home, I sketched out a plan and decided to go after the low-hanging fruit. I had a a small piece that was designed and only needed to be pieced and quilted. So over the course of a few days I finished Primary Fragments.

Then I began work on the second incomplete piece, Megalith #1. This piece took almost three weeks of almost constant work. I heavily stitched it with perle cotton and embroidery floss and added some beads. Each part is an individual piece that I then stitched together.

Then, with five days to go, I began to work on Safe Along the Mersey, which was the inspiration I was gifted with that afternoon. Because the image was so vivid, the design and piecing went pretty quickly. I wasn't entirely certain how I would stitch it. So inspiration struck again, while sitting in my car at the gas station on Friday night: ADD TRANSLUCENT RINGS OF ORANGE. (Why do so many inspirations happen in the car?)

My new, inspired vision had translucent rings of orange and rust overlapping the pieced design. I initially thought of hand stitching them, much as I did with Megalith #1, but I, given it was Friday night and the piece was due Sunday afternoon, that wasn't going to happen.

Then, like a thunderbolt from the sky it struck me: USE ORANGE SHEERS! We were two minutes away from a chain fabric store so we detoured there and I raced in, searching out ORANGE SHEERS. It felt like an episode of Project Runway.

I made it through each aisle with no luck. In the last aisle, I found a white polyester mesh that would work if it were orange. Then another thought struck: YOU CAN DYE FABRIC ORANGE! That necessitated another run through the store looking for a dyeable mesh or sheer fabric. No luck.

I wandered over to check the dyes out anyway and received my final inspiration: DYE CHEESECLOTH ORANGE! Eureka! Thank you Mister Muse. I headed out the door with two colors of orange dyes and 6 yards of cheesecloth. Even though I had never dyed before, this seemed like the perfect solution.

Saturday morning I wake up and commandeer the guest bathroom for dyeing purposes. I line up my bowls, measure out salt and dye, and immerse the cheesecloth in the dye baths. I stir a bit and leave them.

After the recommended 45 minutes I return and remove the cheesecloth from the dyebaths. They are absolutely gorgeous and gave me the chills.

I start rinsing them. And rinse them. And rinse them some more. The dye keeps bleeding. So I rinse more. More bleeding. Finally the water appears clear, but when I put them out to dry, they dye the paper towels orange.

Fortunately here I had a fabulous inspiration: ASK THE QUILT ART MAILING LIST! For a couple years now I have been mostly lurking on this fantastic email list of art quilters. I have learned so much from them. The few times I have asked for help, I have been inundated with thoughtful, helpful replies.

So I headed to my laptop and sent my plea, titled "Quick deadline-pressed question about dyeing and bleeding", into the ether. Almost immediately I began receiving helpful replies with great suggestions. I followed their advice and was able to stop the bleeding.

All day and night Saturday I stitched the sheers to the quilt. On Sunday, I faced it and put a sleeve on it. I felt like a champion because I finished Safe Along the Mersey with four hours to spare.

So with all of that, I'm pretty happy. I've been working hard over the past couple months preparing for both shows. I had forgotten how good it feels to set challenging goals and then meet them. And much of it is thanks to the people in my life and in my internet life who are there for me when inspiration strikes.

Opening of "A World of Stitches"

2009-09-28T10:08:00.013-04:00

Well, yesterday was the big day--the opening of A World of Stitches at the Bellefonte Museum--which also happened to be the first show I've participated in. I thought about writing this entry like it was no big deal and I have openings all the time. You know, like I'm so very cool and collected. But who am I kidding, I'm not remotely cool! And to be honest, it was a really big deal and I was very excited.

Kevin and I arrived at the museum in the beautiful Linn House in downtown Bellefonte and were welcomed by museum director and curator, Patricia House. We walked into the first gallery and I was immediately blown away by all the fabulous pieces from Panama and Benin.

Then Pat told me to turn around--both panels of the Early Morning Club flanked the doorway. Oddly enough, even though I was attending my opening, I was surprised to see them. I had worked so hard attaching all 112 pieces to the screening that I never really thought about how they would look displayed in the gallery.

(Kevin took most of the photographs.)

Seeing them all displayed in chronological order was fascinating to me. I could trace my stream of thought and identify shifts in my point of view. But I took just a moment to look at it before I had to check out the rest of the show.

Kevin helped me find Cash's Mountain, which was displayed over the fireplace.

and Fragment #4 and Plastic Grid,
which were displayed next to this fabulous work by Aldeth Spence Christy, who was one of the artists that worked on Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party.

Sue Reno is an award-winning artist whose work I have long admired. So it was absolutely thrilling to have pieces in the show with her. She attended the opening as well, and we had a wonderful conversation about art, process, poison ivy, and Pittsburgh. I don't want to spill her secrets, but I was relieved to learn that she doesn't measure! Nice to meet a quilt artist with similar sensibilities. Here is her Daylilies at Dawn.

The flags from Benin were fantastic. I didn't get a chance to take as many pictures as I would have liked, but I know I'll get a chance again when my mother and grandmother visit.

And the molas were absolutely irresistible. They were framed under glass, so did not photograph particularly well, but there were also vintage molas from the Kuna tribe for sale. I bought three. (I told you I couldn't resist!)

The show was so beautiful. Pat House did a fabulous job in conceiving and executing the show. Even though the work by the different artists were different, the show was amazingly coherent and the pieces were beautifully displayed. I highly recommend checking it out! (I would even if I weren't in it.)

Exhibiting in this show was motivational. One of the best parts of the day, which didn't photograph well at all, was to be able to talk about my work and answer questions about it. It felt good to know that I created work that interested people. So now all I want to do is make more art and get it out in the world!

Indulge me with one last photograph, of Kevin and me. He's believed in me from the beginning and has been telling me for years to get my art out there. And now I am so proud to look at him and know I finally did.

Bellefonte Museum Exhibit

2009-09-06T11:05:00.002-04:00

I am so very pleased to announce that three of my pieces, as well as all 112 pieces from my Early Morning Club, will be exhibited at the Bellefonte Museum of Centre County. Curator Patricia House has put together an exciting exhibit entitled, A World of Stitches: Applique Art from Benin, Panama, and Pennsylvania. She has selected works from three other Pennsylvania-based artists as well as work from Panama and Benin to show cross-cultural differences (and similarities) in applique.

I invite everyone to attend this really interesting and remarkable exhibit. The opening reception is Sunday, September 27th from 1:00-4:30 p.m. and is free and open to the public. I can't wait to attend, meet the other artists, and see the other pieces in the show. The exhibit runs from September 27th through December 20th and the museum is open Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays from 1:00-4:30 p.m.

One of my pieces, Cash's Mountain, is a raw-edge applique landscape. It's hard to tell from the picture, but I quilted and faced the central landscape and then appliqued it to the brown/teal background so that is serves more as a frame and less as a border.

Fragment #4 is an improvisationally pieced quilt fragment that was quilted, finished and then appliqued to the background brown.

Plastic Grid consists of fifteen mini-quilts that finished and then appliqued to the grid background.

In addition to these three pieces, I have spent the last week attaching (appliquing?) all 112 Early Morning Club pieces to two lengths of fiberglass screening. Back when I was creating the Early Morning Club, I dreamed of having the opportunity to exhibit them as a cohesive whole, and am very excited to now have the chance.

Other works in the exhibit include:

Pennsylvania and environs appliqué artists,

Bonnie Buckwalter, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania
Aldeth Spence Christy, 1939- 2001, Maryland
Kimberly Davis, State College, Pennsylvania
Sue Reno, Columbia, (Lancaster), Pennsylvania

Panama, Kuna Indians appliqué work by several Kuna community members

Benin (West Africa), Brice Abraham Yemadje, textile artist, Fon Community

Here is the press release for the show:

“A World of Stitches: appliqué art from Benin, Panama and Pennsylvania” is a show of the particular craft of appliqué with examples from three very different cultures. The variety of design, motif and theme afford contrast while the basic craft demonstrates the universality of appliqué. The works in the exhibition are original creations by the artists and include images from the natural world, cultural themes and symbols from holidays and celebrations.

Appliqué needlework is an international craft; from American homes to tribal ceremonies, appliqué has been around a long time and continues to be popular. Remnants of clothing decorated with pieces of fabric to form designs have been found in the tombs of persons from ancient cultures. The technique has been used to create colorful flags for royalty throughout Europe and Africa. Appliqué designs on quilts and dance costumes were very popular in the Americas during the 18^th and 19^th Centuries. It is assumed that appliqué owes part of its origin to supply. When fabrics were all made by hand on simple looms or imported at great expense every scrap of material was valuable.

This exhibition includes examples of appliqué used to create decorative pieces and useful objects including coverlets, wall hangings, patches for quilt making, flags and clothing. Appliqué', which is a French term, is a type of decorative needlework that involves cutting pieces of one fabric and sewing or otherwise applying them to the surface of another. An image or design is obtained by superposing patches of colored material on a basic cloth.

In our country, women have been the appliqué artists and quilters but in other cultures men created the textiles and made the textile crafts. This continues to be true in Benin (West Africa), one of the three countries featured in this exhibition. In the Kuna culture of Panama women are the textile artists. Their designs are made using many layers of fabric.

The Kuna people live on the San Blas Islands off the northern coast of Panama. Kuna women make a unique kind of appliqué work called Molas. Images in the Molas are very detailed and depict every aspect of their lives. The fabric designs are done in bright colors on dark (usually red) background. Molas range in sizes but are usually made to fit on a shirt or dress bodice.

Works in this show by Brice Abraham Yemadie are done in rich colors using fabrics and sequins. These pieces demonstrate the appliqué tradition as it has evolved in Benin, West Africa. Y. Brice was born in Benin to a family of textile artisans whose roots go back to the Fon Kingdom of Dahomey (now Benin). The French artist Matisse admired this appliqué tradition and the influence can be seen in some of his works. Fon artists sold into slavery brought the appliqué tradition to the Americas.

By exhibiting examples from Benin (West Africa), Panama and our own community, we display contrasts and similarities and suggest possible origins of craftwork. Most importantly, the show demonstrates shared creativity of people from a wide variety of cultures and traditions. The exhibition curator is Patricia House.

Special appreciation is extended to Peggy Sloves and Maya Spence for lending art to the show and to the artists who loaned their works.

The exhibition is partially funded by the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts and the Borough of Bellefonte.

Accompanying programs will include craft classes for children and adults and on site activities for families visiting the show.

Early Morning Club Review

2009-09-06T09:53:00.000-04:00

A year ago, I embarked on a four-month exploration (from July to November 2008) of early morning creativity. Each day I would awaken, drink a glass of water, and head to my studio where I would create and finish a 6" x 9" vertical quilt. Over the course of the sixteen weeks, I amassed 112 different compositions, but the personal lessons I learned about art, creativity, design, persistence, and improvisation were more valuable. My work in the Early Morning Club helped me define myself as an artist and begin to discover my vision and point-of-view.

Here are links to an overview and all sixteen weeks worth of pieces.

Overview
Week One
Week Two
Week Three
Week Four
Week Five
Week Six
Week Seven
Week Eight
Week Nine
Week Ten
Week Eleven
Week Twelve
Week Thirteen
Week Fourteen
Week Fifteen
Week Sixteen

Does size matter?

2009-04-09T08:23:00.002-04:00

I'm in the process of designing another improvisational quilt. It's sitting on my design wall and I keep adding to it a little at a time. It's one of those pieces that I can't work on too much at once because after a while I lose my concentration. I need to be sharp and focused as I design it. And it's not something I can rush through.

Right now, it probably measures 16" wide by 20" long. This is mostly unpieced, so it will shrink up a bit as I work on it. Some subunits are pieced, but there are a lot of seams yet to be sewn.

This is about the size I normally work at--a small wallhanging. It's a manageable size. You can see it all in a glance. And it's not too challenging to quilt.

But this piece is talking to me. And it wants to be larger. It wants to be a long horizontal, so that your eyes have to sweep across it. I want to look at it and have to step back to take it all in. (I love that feeling at art museums, as you are walking along the gallery, taking in piece after piece, and then you come across one that makes you say "Woah" and step back.)

This is a bit challenging to me because I don't usually work large. And what I've done so far has taken a number of days. But I have a vision and so I'm going to try to go for it. If I were to finish it at this size , I would feel disappointed, like I gave up on it to soon. So I'll take the time it needs to become what it wants to be.

In this case, size does matter.

The Right Stuff

2009-03-25T08:24:00.003-04:00

Where you grow up has a big influence on who you are. Growing up outside of Boston teaches you a few things. (And no, not just to talk with a funny accent.) You learn that Bostonians are fiercely loyal to their sports teams. And that Bostonians are fiercely proud of locals made good. And you learn that this loyalty and pride makes a big city feel like a small town.

Just like any small town, you find that you have connections to local celebrities. I know people who live next to Steven Tyler of Aerosmith. My brother used to shoot pool at the same bar as a bunch of New England Patriots. And I went to high school with people who dated the New Kids on the Block and their bodyguards.

I was a little bit old for the New Kids phenomenon. I was taking the SATs and prepping for college when the teenyboppers were “Hangin’ Tough.” But it was hard to escape them.They were local boys made good and they were everywhere. Songs on the radio, interviews on television, posters at the mall, and t-shirts on teenyboppers—wherever you looked you’d find Donnie, Joey, Jordan, Jonathan, and Danny staring back at you.

Joey was the most popular. He was the youngest, with a precious little baby face, so he was omnipresent. My friends and I started a contest (modeled after the punch buggy Volkswagen Beetle game) to see who could spot the most “Joeys.” We’d rack up tons of points just by walking through the mall.

Even though NKOTB wasn’t my group, it was definitely part of my culture. So when I saw that the New Kids would be in concert at the Jordan Center, I was amused, intrigued, and a bit wistful. Amused: because it brought back memories of high school. Intrigued: because I was wondering how these almost forty-something men could recreate a boy band. And wistful: because I figured no one would go see them with me.

But I was wrong. I mentioned the concert to Cynthia one day and she said “Sure. Let’s go.” I said, “Nah, I was only kidding.” But she grabbed the phone and we ordered tickets.

Fast forward two months. In the interim, my family and friends laughed at me (but that’s not really new) and told funny jokes. My husband called them “Grumpy Old Men on the Block” and wondered how they’d make it through the show without breaking a hip. My brother would call singing “Mmmmmm Bop” (wrong boy band) and then laugh and break into “The Right Stuff.”

On the morning of the concert, I started wondering what I had gotten myself into. But Cynthia convinced me it would be fun. We are always working together, so this was a chance to play.

The lights went down and then the boys rose up on a platform, grabbed the microphones, and started performing. While their singing and dancing was the same, close-ups on the big screen showed that the boys had now become men. Clips of their early videos found me almost overcome with nostalgia. Baby-faced Joey was dancing onscreen while a more mature Joey sang on stage. The juxtaposition was touching.

There were only a few cringeworthy moments. I felt embarrassed for Jordan when he stood on a platform, shirt unbuttoned, with a wind machine blowing at him. And I laughed out loud when Donnie shook his butt. But the show was good-humored and the boys (men?) seemed to understand what it was all about.

Towards the end of the concert, Donnie started talking about the reunion tour and how it wasn’t just a reunion for the band, but a reunion for the fans as well. They seemed to appreciate that—although twenty years had passed—their fans were still loyal.

In some ways, it was a disorienting couple of hours. It was like traveling backward and forward in time. In one moment, I’d be reminiscing about high school and in the next I’d be reading what Cynthia posted on facebook with her phone. I’d look to the video screen and see the young Boston boys dancing in the street and then look to the stage and see the older Boston men posing on stage. The comparisons would be enough to cause temporal whiplash.

But I’m grateful that I went. Life is made from these contradictions. I might be a thirty-something quilt shop owner in Central Pennsylvania, but part of me will always be a seventeen-year old high schooler from Boston.

(Read Cynthia's take on the concert here.)

February Ice in March

2009-03-17T16:50:00.003-04:00

I started this quilt in the midst of February ice. The bare trees and grey skies lent an unexpected beauty to our Pennsylvania landscape. I wanted to capture the essence of mid-winter's shadows and ice. I selected a palette of silvery greys, soft blacks, snowy whites, and icy teals and began improvisational piecing. I made a couple of trees and other filler strips. Life intruded, as it often does, and my February ice quilt was left hanging, quite literally, on my design wall until today.

When I returned to my studio today I was unsure what to do. The icy inspiration that motivated me had melted away. My thoughts are turning away from snow and ice and towards the spring greens of new growth. But my personal resolution to reduce the numbers of UFOs I create was on my mind.

So I returned to my palette of February fabrics: I added and adjusted and created and deleted until I created a composition that reminded me of my inspiration. During my month of not sewing, I had forgotten how much fun it can be. It's smaller than I had intended (merely 9" x 18") but it is finished.

And now, unburdened by winter's chill, I can freely cast my mind to the apple greens and celadons of Spring.

On Living with Cats

2009-02-08T06:53:00.005-05:00

Apologies to Robert Burns, but I've found that the best laid plans of mice and men are often derailed by a cat.

Yesterday morning I was awoken at 5:00 a.m. by my cat Max. He likes to wake me up by scratching at the closet door. No, he doesn't scratch them because we've locked him in the closet, but because he is wickedly efficient. Our closet doors are the hanging-sliding kind so they make lots of noise when scratched, thus ensuring that I am woken up. Usually this is no big deal because I just lock him downstairs with his food bowl and head back to sleep.

But I just wasn't able to fall back to sleep. After a bit of tossing and turning I got up to start my day. As I was reading email and surfing the internet, I realized that I had time to quilt before work at 10:00 a.m. Over the past couple months, I had fallen out of the early morning work habit, but Saturday was a great time to get back into it. Gee, thanks Max.

I brewed a cup of herbal tea and headed to my studio. Max followed because he likes to see what I'm working on. I've been quilting a throw quilt that stumped me, so it's sat on my machine while I figured out what to do. It's a row quilt: I just needed to quilt five more rows and the border. If I made a quick decision, then I had time to finish almost all the quilting before work.

It was a beautiful morning. There I was working in my studio before dawn, with a warm and comforting mug of tea, a soccer match playing on the television, and my kitty cat nearby for company. What could go wrong?

I finished the remaining five rows and had an hour left. I adjusted the quilt to begin stitching the borders and then Max jumped onto the table to my left. Usually when I sew, he spends his time near the patio doors watching for chipmunks and windblown leaves. But with the snow outside, there was little to see, so he wanted more attention.

I grabbed the cat bed from the corner and stuck it on the table, hoping that he would settle down nearby, but not in my way. But then, he spotted what I was doing. He immediately headed over and curled himself up in a cozy spot on my quilt. I knew I was defeated. I mean, look at what I was faced with.

You can see the stubbornness in his expression. What can you do against something like that?

I spent the rest of the morning organizing my crochet hooks.

While Robert Burns was a great poet, he obviously wasn't a cat owner.

New Year

2009-01-08T09:21:00.003-05:00

Hiya! It's a good thing that one of my New Year's resolutions wasn't to blog regularly.

Actually, I don't "do" New Year's resolutions. Instead, I choose a theme that helps guide my choices and decision making over the course of the year. For example, last year my theme was Mindfulness and my goal was to become mindful of my thoughts, feelings, and actions. This year, my theme is Energy; that is finding a balanced and sustainable source for the physical, mental, emotional, and creative energy I need to achieve my personal goals.

I tend to use my energy like a cheetah--I either run flat out at 150 mph or I sit on the couch. When I'm productive, this tendency is great because I get lots accomplished. But, when I'm in couch mode, things pass me by until I have to get up and run again to get caught up.

While practicing mindfulness over the past year, I became more aware of this tendency and tried to moderate it. It worked for a while. I was particularly productive this past spring and summer, but at a sustainable pace. I got a lot done, without working too hard or resting too much. But, when life got busier in the fall, I fell into my old cheetah habit of doing too much and ended the year as a couch slug.

So, over the course of the year,I want to reestablish old habits and create new ones to enhance my personal energy. I also want to learn to practice moderation, rather than falling into the habit of overdoing or underdoing. To these ends, I have identified four areas of focus:

Physical energy: eat fresh, unprocessed foods, exercise regularly, and make sure I get plenty of sleep.
Emotional energy: journal daily, make sure to spend time with family and friends.
Mental energy: maintain an updated calendar, keep an ongoing task list, establish a notecard system for goals.
Creative energy: reorganize studio, build design wall, and finish UFOs.

My goals for creative energy are finite (once I have reorganized my studio then that task is done), while my goals for physical, emotional, and mental energy are ongoing (more like habits to establish than tasks to check off a list.) That is intentional. After working on the Early Morning Club last year, I realized that I need to create better physical and mental space for creativity. So my goals here are to clear the decks, so to speak, and then dive into new work. At that point, I will look at my creative goals and determine what habits I want to establish.

I'm excited about this year. My cheetah tendency has been with me a long time. Even my second-grade teacher commented on my report card about my tendency to race through tasks to finish quickly. But the moderation I practiced over the past year taught me that it is possible to change. I'll let you know how it goes.

What I've been up to...

2008-12-27T10:01:00.002-05:00

*blows dust off neglected blog*

Wow. Two months since my last post. I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realize it had been that long. I wanted to get a quick update up and continue blogging in the new year.

I know people have been wondering about the Early Morning Club because they've asked me. I made a conscious decision to discontinue it back in November. I began it thinking that it was an open-ended project that I would continue as long as it was a help and not a hindrance. After a few successful weeks, I began looking long-term and committing to it for a year. And for a while, the idea of the long-term commitment was helpful.

I loved the little hour or so I carved out for myself and my art every morning. It was a great way to start the day. Every morning I would wake up, create a little piece, place it in the stack with others, and continue my day. I made great gains in understanding my own preferred aesthetic and in learning new skills.

But as autumn deepened and my life got busier, I began resenting my morning commitment. There were other projects I wanted to work on and other UFOs I wanted to finish, but many weeks the only quilting I had time for were these little stand-alone pieces. The creative ideas my morning pieces inspired were left neglected because I just didn't have the time to work on them.

I actually have the last week of pieces that I never got to blogging about. Although I made them, my heart wasn't in it because I created them in a state of resentment. It was on that Sunday, when I usually would photograph and blog about the previous week's work, that I decided to discontinue the project and just focus on finishing projects.

In the two months since I have been busy with quilting projects for the shop and for myself. I finished designing, piecing, and binding 2008's Block of the Month. I finished two Christmas mystery tablerunners. I finished a large throw for my family room, finished a couple Christmas gifts, designed some fabulous journal covers, and finished several other UFOs. The idea was to finish projects and clear the decks, so to speak, for the New Year.

I've also begun rearranging my studio to make room for a large 7' x 8' permanent design wall. I've never thought that I've needed one because most of my art quilts are small. But my work in the Early Morning Club inspired me to work larger. Reorganizing my studio has lead to a bit of chaos at home. I've moved out large bookcases and a desk, leaving only the essentials: sewing table, cutting table, drawing table, a single bookcase, and fabric storage.

I'm quite excited moving into the New Year. I've whittled down my UFOs to just a few. I've designed a more functional and less cluttered studio. I have a stack of morning pieces to inspire. I'm ready to focus on my work and apply the lessons I've learned.

Early Morning Club, Week Sixteen

2008-11-05T07:06:00.005-05:00

Oy! Midweek is becoming the posting time of choice for my pieces. Never fear, I'm still getting up and doing them each morning, but the process of posting them is slipping away.

Monday, October 27th

After last week's scattered series of pieces--some of which inspired me and some of which bored me---I returned to improvisational patchwork. This piece began with a background rectangle in which I made a series of random cuts and then pieced in a variety of brown fabrics (just scraps really, that were hanging around my work table). I like the overall composition of this piece--it feels balanced.

Tuesday, October 28th
Here's another piece that began as a black rectangle randomly cut. Again I was working with balancing negative and positive space. Too often my improvisational pieces have no background, no negative space, which is alright, but I think designs are often more interesting when they balance them both.

Wednesday, October 29th
Here, I wanted to work with focus fabrics. But I think the design is lacking. There is no connection between the various patches--they just feel plunked down and sewn together. This is comparison with Monday's and Tuesday's pieces where the various fabrics interact to create a more cohesive design.

Thursday, October 30th
Another attempt at using a focus fabric (the vintage chickens). I like the red, blue, and gold fabrics I picked to go with it. This is a more successful design, I think, because the patches related to each other and that helps my eye move around the piece.

Friday, October 31st
Boo! A customer gave me a piece of this cute Halloween fabric so of course I had to use it today. (Thanks Chris!) The white, yellow, orange striped pieces are my ode to candy corn. I like this piece. It is simple and makes me happy.

Saturday, November 1st
As I was cleaning my sewing table, I found a pile of scraps arranged like the design in the middle. I thought that was a fortuitous find, so I used it for the center of this piece.

Sunday, November 2nd
Again, another piece that began with a background rectangle that I cut. As I made my cuts, I thought about design and balance. I chose a palette of colors--blues, teals, purples, and yellow--that is not one I typically work with. I tried to balance placement and size of the different colors to create an interesting design. I'm really happy with this one.

General Thoughts

I adore this improvisational patchwork. When I work in this manner, I think I get closest to expressing what is inside me. So that is good to know. It may be time for me to work on a larger improvisational piece outside of my morning work. I can see making a wonderfully cozy bed quilt using these techniques. Making an art wallhanging would be alright, but so often I look at these improvisational pieces and just want to wrap myself up in them.

Early Morning Club, Week Fifteen

2008-10-29T21:52:00.002-04:00

Whew! Sick cats (poor Max has irritable bowel syndrome and food allergies), power outages (that, among other things, kept me from watching Liverpool beat Chelsea...grrr), company visits (thanks for visiting Mom and Nana!), all-day workshops (mucho fun but also mucho work), and birthday celebrations (Happy Birthday to me!) have made my life a bit crazy. So here are my pieces from the past week...belatedly.

Monday, October 20th

I wanted a folk art look for this piece, so I cut simple shapes from solid fabrics and applied them to a piece of raw muslin. I added some stems through embroidery. Simple and sweet.

Tuesday, October 21st
I don't know what I expected from this piece when I started. I wanted to use embroidery to echo to motifs in the center pot. It's a sketchy start. I realized as I was working on it that I really need to learn more embroidery stitches so that I have a greater selection to choose from. I do very much like how the gold stitches at the top are consistently inconsistent--it's like my own stitch handwriting.

Wednesday, October 22nd
I have a cording foot for my sewing machine that I have never used and thought that it would be fun to couch a self-striping yarn. So I cut a piece of background and fused it to a piece of Timtex for stability. I threaded my machine with invisible thread and loaded Noro Kureyon yarn through the hole in the cording foot. I then stitch back and forth, roughly covering the background with thread. You can see the suble transition of color from green to purple. I then trimmed the piece up and couched more Kureyon around the outside edges.

As I finished the couching and looked at the piece, I had a vision of a cattail, so I added one. I like how to sway of the cattail matches the lines of the couched thread.

Thursday, October 23rd
Another couched yarn background, this time using Ella Rae's Palermo. When finished, I thought it was a good background for a lotus-like flower. I like how the background appears to glow just behind the lotus.

Friday, October 24th

In addition to my cording foot, I also have a free-motion couching foot that I have never used. This piece is just an experiment to see how it works.

Saturday, October 25th

Not a lot of time today because of company and the workshop, so I quickly sketched this sunflower in plaid out. It is inspired by a sunflower flag hanging in someone's garden that I pass each day on the drive to work. It's cozy and homespun and would make a great applique for a larger snuggle quilt.

Sunday, October 26th
Sometimes I just need to finish something and call it a piece. Today was one of those days. Leftover strip piece. Quick cut leaf. Applique 'em down and call it done.

General Thoughts

The pieces for this week feel scattered to me--without a theme or thread to connect them. And the pieces I have started for Week Sixteen have headed in another direction, albeit one that I have explored before. I am beginning to find this project frustrating in that I come up with ideas that I want to explore in a thoughtful and more considered way, but the conveyor belt of morning after morning keeps moving and I often move with it--away from the pieces I want to explore further.

I want to take some time over the next few weeks and really think about this project and my goals. I feel like I've come up with enough ideas to last me quite a while. I don't want my work to only be about quick morning sketches. I want to be able to work on larger pieces that require more thought and design.

Early Morning Club, Week Fourteen

2008-10-22T17:12:00.007-04:00

Sorry for the delay in posting. Busy week of 12-hour work days, leaf raking and yard work, and cleaning and cooking for company. So without further adieu, may I present Week Fourteen!

Monday, October 13th
It's not surprising that my work one week influences the next, but what is surprising is the type of influence it has. Last week's work was fairly involved with lots of stitching and surface elements. So when I faced my work Monday, I wanted to play with the simplicity of line. What would be the minimum stitching I could do and still create an interesting composition?

I created this piece improvisationally--without a preconceived design. I embroidered the blue rectangle and then thought it needed something behind it for depth, so I added the mustard rectangle. I balanced it with the red square.

Tuesday, October 14th
Simplicity again. Here I wanted to explore lines and see how just a few lines and shapes can convey meaning. I wanted to create a calming, quiet fall scene. I like this piece because it matches my intention. I look at it and feel serene.

Wednesday, October 15th
This piece is a really a joke stemming from my undergraduate days as a psychology major. I started this morning thinking of embroidering words like hope, dream, wish, but it felt too cliched. Then I remembered learning about the Stroop effect, which shows that people can read a color word, like red, quicker when it's printed in red ink then when it is printed in blue ink. You can read red faster than you can read red. So consider this a homage to my undergraduate psychology days.

Thursday, October 16th
A few years ago I took a drawing class. I thought that some of my sketches would work well as embroidered pieces. So here you see an embroidered version of a gestural sketch of my cat Max.

Friday, October 17th
Here is a sketch of garlic from my drawing class.

Saturday, October 18th
As I was curling up in bed Friday night, this tag kept tickling me. I ripped it off intending to throw it away in the morning, but then thought it would be amusing to use it as the focus of a piece. This turned out very simple and the red embroidery doesn't stand out in the picture as much as I wanted. (Also, the buttons aren't properly aligned, which annoys me.)

Sunday, October 19th
This little photo transfer has been hanging in my studio for almost a year. So, inspired by the raking facing me on Sunday, I created this quick little composition. There is a lot of apricot in the leaves, so I emphasized it with the frame and the buttons.

General Thoughts

My word, this is becoming challenging. I know I shouldn't whinge too much here, but whew, when life gets hectic it becomes harder and harder to get these pieces done. But that is part of the process.

It was nice to play with simplicity this week. The embroidered versions of my sketches reminded me how much I enjoyed drawing. Once life gets less busy, I'll start drawing again. (I think that will be in April.) There is something completely mesmerizing about learning to look at something and really see it as it is, that is a combination of lines and values, rather than the cartoon-like sketches our brain uses to identify things.

Early Morning Club, Week Thirteen

2008-10-12T19:15:00.005-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, October 6th
I loved the texture that heavy quilting added to last week's pieces, so I decided that would be the theme for the week. I wanted to try yesterday's piece again, but this time using heat-set crayons to color in the squares, rather than using fabric. I then stippled the entire piece, choosing thread colors to match the background fabric and also the crayon colors. I love the color of the background fabric but don't think the crayon colors work that great. I think I wanted--for lack of a better term--a more sophisticated palette, but I have to remember that I was working with crayons (a box of 96 Crayola, to be precise).

Tuesday, October 7th
After playing with crayons yesterday, I was inspired to get out my watercolor pencils and create a colorwash as a background for stitching. I colored the background with the pencils and then used a brush and water to blend the colors together. At this point, the background was fairly wet so I used a hair dryer and then an iron to heat set the colors. (At least I believe they are heat set. I have a piece using these pencils that is at least four years old and I've noticed no color loss.)

Once dry, I had beautiful blending of colors and interesting design lines develop. I used various colors of rayon threads to quilt it by following the design lines. I really like this piece. It is pretty and soothing.

Wednesday, October 8th
As much as I liked yesterday's piece, I wanted the colors to be more intense. So I decided to try another technique that I call fleece and tulle painting. I started this piece the same way--creating a colorwash with watercolor pencils. Then I ironed the background to a piece of fast-to-fuse, which is a heavyweight fusible interfacing. I wanted to have a more stable surface for stitching the fleece and tulle to the piece.

Then I selected colors of fleece (wool roving that has been carded and dyed, but not yet spun into yarn) and tulle and began placing them on the design, following the colors of the colorwash. I stitched them in place using various thread colors. I finished by trimming the piece to size, zigzagging around the edges with a variegated thread, and adding some copper foil.

I love the rich colors of this piece, but I wish I had spent more time on the underlying design.

Thursday, October 9th
Let me just say that I adore this piece. Again, it started as a watercolor pencil colorwash that I heat set and quilted. I used various rayon threads and quilted following the design lines. I like the mostly nuetral palette and I like the texture that developed from the heavy, vaguely parallel lines.

Friday, October 10th
My vision for this piece was to create an underwater feel using the fleece and tulle painting technique. So I started with a colorwashed background and then broke out my boxes of fleece and tulle. At that point I realized that I was going to have a bit of a problem because I didn't have many choices of tulle and fleece in the aqua, teal, blue, purple, and lime colors I wanted to use. Indeed, I didn't have any lime at all, which meant I had to substitute this greener green. So I wasn't able to blend colors as I had envisioned. Ah well, I need to check my supplies next time before starting a project.

Note: the schmutz on the piece is actually an iridescent foil that just didn't want to photograph well for me at all.

Saturday, October 11th
As I have been creating these colorwash backgrounds I noticed that the paper I used to protect my work surface absorbed some of the colors from the pencils and in many cases were prettier and more interesting than the fabric itself. So on Friday, as I created my colorwash background, I placed another fabric piece beneath it. This is the result. The colors are softer and more pastel than I would normally use, but the blending is very nice.

Sunday, October 12th
I wanted to end the week as I began, with crayons and very heavy stitching. I wanted to see if I could get more intense colors with crayons than with watercolor pencils. I can, but it is more difficult to blend them. I quilted this piece to within an inch of it's life, which explains its distortion. I tried to block it to size, but the stitching was too resistant. The stitching alone took 45 minutes.

General Thoughts

I enjoyed playing this week with various art supplies and stitching. After three months of early morning work, I needed a change and to try something new. So I did. More interesting techniques to add to my toolbox.

Early Morning Club, Week Twelve

2008-10-05T19:30:00.004-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, September 29th
Today I wanted to start using my new palette of solids. I made a random strip set and then cut it into three subsections, which I sewed back together slightly offset and separated by brown strips.

Tuesday, September 30th
This is almost the piece I envisioned, but in my mind the blue strips framing the center were much narrower. It reminds me of a mirror, which gives me the idea for a series of abstract self-portraits. Perhaps that is an idea to try in the future.

Wednesday, October 1st
This piece--and pieces like it--are puzzles to solve from initial design until final seam. I like this piece. It feels cheerful and I'd love a larger version of one for my bed. This piece looks like a fragment from a larger quilt.

Thursday, October 2nd
Funnily enough, after three days using my new palette of solids, I found myself longing to use the cozy plaids and homespuns I played with last week. I had a vision of a primitive, folk art fall tree. That was odd for me because generally I am not interested in primitive quilting. So I decided to act on my idea and see how I feel working in that genre. I like this piece because it has the cozy, autumnal feeling that I wanted to create. I don't see myself creating a lot in this style, but I can picture a sweet spring primitive garden using soft plaids and solids.

Friday, October 3rd
I wanted to try some string piecing (sewing random strips to a muslin foundation) so I quickly sketched out some angled lines. I wish that I had been more creative and random with my color selections--the purple, sage, burnt orange combination is repeated on the left a couple times. I see the possibility for mountains here, perhaps if I controlled my color selections so that the darker foreground lead to a softer mountain peak and sky.

Saturday, October 4th
This piece went through three iterations. I started making entrapped fabric, which is scraps and strips fused under a layer of tulle. My plan was to using the entrapped fabric as my piece. But once finished it just felt wrong. I didn't want to use it whole. So I cut it into segments and rearranged them until I found a staggered composition that was appealling. I sewed the segments back together separated by brown sashing. But when I did that I was unhappy with how it appeared grid-like instead of the staggered compostion I had envisioned. So I put it aside and didn't finish it.

Then inspiration struck and I realized that I could cut it apart and rearrange it again. I decided to fuse the pieces to a solid background that I would quilt heavily. I'm not in love with this piece, but I like the solution. And the heavy quilting is inspirational to me. I love free-motion quilting, but I rarely incorporate it into my pieces. But the texture quilting adds is so compelling.

Sunday, October 5th
After a week of hit-and-miss designs, I decided to return to simplicity on Sunday. I was inspired by the texture from Saturday's piece so I embroidered six shapes to a brown background and then heavily quilting the background. I like the color palette, which is a slight variation on a rainbow. The brown sets it off well.

General Thoughts

I can't wait to turn the clocks back. I wake naturally with the sun, which means the later sunrises are throwing my morning routine off, making me rush through each morning's piece. This week was uneven. I didn't feel particularly inspired, but I soldiered through regardless. I am excited by the texture I started adding with free-motion quilting.

Beyond that, it's another week done. I expect that the ebb and flow of my inspiration and motivation is natural and to be expected. What is interesting to me is that I am learning that my mood doesn't matter. I can create something everyday whether I feel like it or not. Feelings don't matter, doing does.

Early Morning Club, Week Eleven

2008-09-29T11:21:00.000-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, September 22nd
Homespuns, plaids, and vintage fabrics. Improvisational piecing in strips and squares. I like the color scheme. Not much more to say than that. It doesn't excite me. But it does feel cozy.

Tuesday, September 23rd
This piece is cozy. I would love to wrap myself up in it. It reminds me of Saturday's piece from last week, which I also thought would make a great bed quilt. So this is a design that I really need to work with on a larger scale.

Wednesday, September 24thFor whatever reason, this piece reminds me of books in a library. I love the colors. They are from a new palette of solids that I selected. Piecing it was fun, but it feels a little spare, like it needs something more. Perhaps additional texture from quilting or embroidery would add interest.

Thursday, September 25th
Eh. This piece doesn't excite me. I love the teal and brown vintage print, but other than that, there just isn't much to say.

Friday, September 26th
I only started to like this piece after I added the embroidery. It took a while to realize that embroidery was what it needed--and I didn't get to it until Sunday morning when I sat on the couch watching football (soccer). Before then, it seemed lifeless. The large, empty patches of color felt devoid of energy and interest. But adding the embroidery gave it personality. It feels like a scrap from an older piece, worn and frayed with time.

Saturday, September 27th
Saturday was a fun (but long) day that capped the end of a fulfilling (but exhausting) week. As I crashed on the couch, watching the replay of Liverpool's victory over local rivals Everton, I debated whether I would actually get a piece done or not. But then I realized that every piece didn't need to be a great attempt at art, but that it only needed to be an attempt. So I hauled myself up off the couch and headed to my studio. There I decided that I would spend no more than 10 minutes designing a piece using only the scraps that littered my workspace.

This is the result. It reminds me of some of the pieces I created back in July and August, but seems more fluid. Each little unit has its own character and personality. They look like little artifacts, which they are, given that they were created from scraps.

Sunday, September 28th
I wanted a very warm and cozy palette of plaids and solids to surround me. I really enjoy making this improvisational pieced quilts because of the challenge of finding balance and helping the eye move around the composition. But this piece appeals to me on a simpler level: I want to wrap myself up in it and take a nap. (Many of the pieces I designed this week had that effect on me. Perhaps I need more sleep.)

General Thoughts

Whew! I thought last week was challenging, but this week proved to be even busier. So, I have to admit my motivation and enthusiasm was low and I relied on will power to get me going. But I created seven pieces and consider that a win.

The theme for this past week was utility. I wanted to explore utilitarian fabrics: humble homespun plaids, vintage fabric, and coordinating solids. It took me a few days to really begin to appreciate the design possibilities available with these humble fabrics. And even now, I think I see them as more suited to utilitarian quilts, rather than art quilts, but perhaps that is just due to my own lack of vision.

What do you think about utilitarian fabrics, such as these? Do you think they lend themselves to art or are better suited for cozy quilts?

(I think part of the reason this week was so challenging--other than being crazy busy--was that my chosen fabrics just didn't inspire me. After last week, I thought that having a theme to each week would provide more coherence, but I am rethinking that. If a theme presents itself and excites me, then I will go with it. But I won't just choose a random theme for the sake of it.)

A couple things I wanted to try this week didn't make it in. I had an idea for a piece using yo-yo's, but didn't have time to make it. I also wanted to use buttons as embellishment on a piece or two, but no piece ended up calling for them.

However, the idea of using homespuns and solids and making a large freeform-pieced quilt seems cozy to me. And as always, I am loving the personal quality that embroidery adds. As I mentioned, Friday's piece did not work for me until I added the embroidery. In fact, I would've like to have added embroidery to Saturday's piece as well, if I had the time.

And time is something I need to consider. I began this project in the lazy summertime, when work requires less and we try to take as much time off as we can. Now that fall has arrived, my schedule will be much busier until the spring. I need to accept that there will be days when I can only commit a few minutes to my piece, as I did Saturday. Every piece doesn't need to be great art; instead, each piece just needs to be.

Slight Delay

2008-09-28T19:17:00.002-04:00

Just wanted to let you know that I'll get my entry for last week's Early Morning Club up sometime tomorrow. The constant drizzle and rain today meant that I couldn't take the photographs outside in natural light. I tried to create a light source inside, but the quality of pictures was poor. With any luck tomorrow will bring sunshine and I will post the pictures then.

Cheers,
Kim

Early Morning Club, Week Ten

2008-09-21T13:29:00.004-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, September 15th
A busy week ahead meant that Monday morning found me lounging in bed for a bit rather than getting up right away as I normally do. As I snuggled deeper under the covers I had a vision of random strips of the solid fabrics. So I got up and that's what I created. Random stripes are easy and fun to sew. I cut without a ruler and sew them together without trying to use an accurate quarter-inch seam. I really enjoy this palette of solid fabrics--they are bright, cheerful, and work together well.

Tuesday, September 16th
I wanted to play with interesting and high-contrast combinations in this piece. I chose yellow/teal and turquoise/red because they are not color combinations that I would normally use. I freehand cut ragged shapes of each and arranged them in an alternating pattern. Ragged running stitches hold the shapes in place. I like this piece a lot. I think it is bold and graphic, but still has a humble simplicity from its frayed, ragged edges and uneven hand stitching.

Wednesday, September 17th
When I was a child, I loved playing with colors and shapes. It was a love I had forgotten about until I discovered quilting in 2000. This piece reminds me of my childhood. I'd draw and color a shape and then draw and color another next to it, creating a mosaic. Here, I've free-cut squares and rectangles, arranged them on the raw muslin, and stitched them in place. I worked on balancing the color and shape distribution so that it looks random, but still helps the eye move around the piece.

Thursday, September 18th
I really love this piece. It's similar to the fragment pieces I've worked on. Unlike the fragments, where I used a restricted color palette, I've used ten different colors in this piece, which is both more enjoyable and more challenging. I work by intuition, trying different color combinations and color placements until something works. Looking at this piece, I can see that I tried to balance the distribution so that the eye moves around the piece and created pathways of color for a cohesive design. But that happened inutitively. As I'm working on a piece, I ask myself general questions like"Does this work?" and "How can I make it better?" rather than consciously asking myself technical questions about balance and composition.

Friday, September 19th
I selected the softer colors from my solid palette--the orange and turqouise, coral and yellow, orange and pink--for this playful piece. I freecut circles and squares of varying sizes and overlapped them. I spent a fair bit of time just playing. My initial designs were more regular--I repeated the same configurations of shapes--but the longer I played the more I broke away from that regular grid. And then I just had to add that large red circle as a zinger. I think this would make a sweet wallhanging for a nursery.

Saturday, September 20th
I really, really like this piece. It was very fun to make and I think that it matches my vision. Again, I worked with very high-contrast color combinations and made random striped columns. I think this would make a fantastic bed quilt.

Sunday, September 21st
Technical difficulties made this piece not match my vision. I had wanted to create a bullseye and embellish it with lots of running stitch embroidery. But the technical choices I made in creating the bullseye made it impossible to do. I cut and glued all the circles together and then went to embroider. Oops! There was no way I could get my needle through nine layers of fabric and glue. So I had to machine quilt. But because I glued, rather than fused, my edges frayed and the layers shifted as I was machine quilting, leading to puckers and more fraying than I envisioned. So I quilted as quickly as I could and called it finished. Regardless of the difficulties, I really like the idea and may play with it some more.

General Thoughts

This past week was the busiest one I have faced since beginning this project. Lots of work and family reponsibilities kept me hopping. I found myself sleeping in later than usual because I needed to rest, but still managed to find time to get all seven pieces done. Whew. But this week has forced me to reevaluate my priorities and decide which ones are truly important. Let's just say I decided that big laundry piles and unswept floors will be more common in the future.

This was also the first week in which I decided to stay with a certain theme--in this case, to use that palette of solid color fabrics--throughout the entire week. I liked that. Usually, I would let each day's whim take me where it would, but this week I decided to keep working in the same series. I found that to be challenging and enjoyable because it forced me to think about the same fabrics in different ways. And looking back over the week's pieces, I find I like seeing the cohesion that working in series offers.

Early Morning Club, Week Nine

2008-09-14T14:40:00.004-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, September 8th

In this piece, I wanted to play with color fields as part of the background. The teal color reminded me of the ocean or a swimming pool. Those thoughts led to thoughts of lifeguard chairs and poolside ladders. And that led to this visual interpretation.

Tuesday, September 9th
I wanted to play with the idea of subway maps or circuit boards, basically the idea of interconnected nodes and pathways. Here, I have taken an extreme closeup of a map or board. I added the embroidered node at the bottom add visual interest and personal interest. I have come to really appreciate how embroidery enhances the idea of an artist's hand at work on the piece.

Wednesday, September 10th
My maternal family is of Finnish origin. As a symbol of ethnic pride, my family would buy textiles from the Marimekko design house. This piece reminds me of the Marimekko fabrics that covered our beds and hung from our walls. Clean design, reminiscent of woodcut prints. Again, I added embroidery for a personal touch.

Thursday, September 11th
I woke this morning with a keen awareness that it was the seventh anniversary of September 11th. For the first time since that day, I watched footage on television. I became highly emotional, reliving to a certain extent, the intense grief of that day and the following weeks. When I approached my piece, I wanted to work with intense and highly contrasting colors so I selected solid black, red, and yellow. This piece is an attempt to capture my emotional response to remembering that horrible day.

Friday, September 12th
After the intense emotions of Thursday, I wanted to create a piece to represent hope and growth. Forsythia, to me, are one of the most hopeful plants. Early each spring, riotous forsythia blooms promise an end to winter's chill. (I have to admit that Kevin disagrees entirely with this, given the absolute war he's waged on the overgrown forsythia patches in our yard.)

I have an idea for a larger quilt I want to make, using forsythia as a theme, so I'll play with interpretations of forsythia over time. I liked this one at first, but now I think that it is too spiky, smooth, and regular. It doesn't give that sense of riotous growth as we move from lifeless winter into spring.

Saturday, September 13th
Saturday was a rough day for me. I felt ill when I woke so I slept in. I went to work but left early. A late afternoon nap followed by a trip to the grocery store meant that it was 7:30 p.m. before I felt well enough to work on my piece. I headed into my studio with no idea what I wanted to create. I spread out a 6.5" x 9.5" background piece and began cutting and arranging squares and rectangles in greens and yellows and grays. But I felt uninspired--it reminded me of work I had done earlier in the summer.

So I returned to the black, yellow, and red palette from Thursday. I wanted to show myself that those colors can be fun and aren't necessarily linked to intense, negative emotions. Rather than use a rotary cutter to cut shapes with even edges, I used scissors to intentionally cut raw and ragged pieces. I arranged them in a slightly overlapping composition that reminds me of a very abstract bouquet. I glued the pieces down and then embroidered them in place using a very ragged running stitch. I actually really like this piece. The ragged edges and the running stitch make it feel very personal to me.

Sunday, September 14th

I wanted to play some more with forsythia and try to capture that riotous growth. Here, I cut ragged stems from a brown batik (Hoffman's 1895 Havana, which is one of my all-time favorite fabrics to work with) and cut little flower and leaf snips from gold and green batiks. I kept the blooms and growth sparse because I wanted to show the initial hints of spring.

General Thoughts
I am finding my work each day to be more and more fulfilling. When I began, back in July, I would approach the blank space each morning with a blank mind. I had no idea what I was going to make each day, my only intention was to make something. So I would cut pieces and arrange fabrics and wait for inspiration to strike and see where it leads me.

Now, as I begin my piece each morning, I am generally guided by a concept: pools and ladders, interconnected nodes, fabrics from my childhood, an emotion. This is exciting to me to see how I then interpret my idea visually. I feel like I am finding my voice and my personal style. Even though the pieces I created this week use different fabrics and techniques to express a variety of concepts, I still think there are enough similarities that they feel connected, as part of a cohesive body of work.

I don't know if I can express just how important embroidery has become. It's not something I have a lot of experience with. I think I embroidered a pillow in Girl Scouts and once made a redwork poinsettia. But, there is something intensely personal about it that really builds my connection with my work. Not every piece calls for it, but when they do, I intend to make time for it when possible.

Early Morning Club, Week Eight

2008-09-07T17:01:00.005-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, September 1, 2008
This piece reminds me of ice crystals. I've been attracted to the icy blues, teals, and grays of winter. Strange that I have jumped past fall. I wanted to make fragments that looked like tree branches and utility poles. Each fragment was made separately and then I played with arranging them. I added additional strips and fragments as necessary to fill in the design. I gradated the values from light to dark.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The central motif is a discarded fragment that I thought looked like a rune. I decided to see what my rune series would look like if I made one that was pieced, rather than fused. I think I prefer a combination of piecing and fusing: the rune and accent squares fused on a pieced background.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Here, the central motif is a fragment from Monday's piece that got away from me. So I decided to make it even more out there by chopping it up and resewing it together while adding other bits. I really like the randomly pieced borders. For whatever reason, this piece reminds me of bamboo growing.

Thursday, September 4, 2008
Here, I wanted to experiment with randomly cut and sewn curves. I found them to be more difficult than I expected. I had had an image of moonlight filtering through a forest during winter's chill, but my technical challenges made it hard to create my vision. That's alright though. I remember reading a quote from a top quilter in which she said that it took her 10 years to gain the technical skills required to make a quilt she had designed. I'll play some more with these curves in the future.

A side note: After I finished my piece on Thursday, I decided to travel to the quilt show in Harrisburg. It was an absolutely phenomenal show that was inspirational beyond my expectations. Indeed, as you will see in the pieces for the rest of the week, it inspired a reboot of my work and movement in a new direction.

Friday, September 5, 2008
The pieces at Harrisburg that inspired me the most were often the simplest, using fewer colors and fabrics and including open space. Hand stitching and embroidery also spoke to me, allowing me to see the hand of the artist. So when I began working on Friday, I sketched a simple design and allowed that to serve as the basis for the design. I chose humble fabrics: a raw muslin and three solid cottons in teal, cheddar, and sable brown. I love this color scheme and I love the contrast between the solid, processed cottons and the raw, organic muslin.

I call this piece, The Chair You Cannot Sit. I shared the title with my husband who said, "You mean The Chair You Cannot Sit On." Nope. It's The Chair You Cannot Sit. Artist's prerogative.

Saturday, September 6, 2008
Here's another piece inspired by my trip to Harrisburg. Again, I started with a sketch, but I ended up deviating from it quite substantially. My sketch was an abstracted utility pole, but when I started constructing it out of fabric, I thought it looked more like a devil's fork. So my idea shifted. It is untitled, although it does remind me of music.

Sunday, September 7, 2008
This idea and title for this piece came to me Saturday night, as I was falling asleep. I got up and grabbed my journal/sketchbook and recorded it. I imagined birds on utility wire after utility wire disappearing in the distance. I enjoyed adding the hand embroidery to the bird. I want to begin using more embroidery in the future.

I call it Bird Wire. Again, I shared the title with Kevin and he said, "You mean Bird on a Wire." Nope. Bird Wire. He asked if I was creating an On-Less quilt series. He's a cheeky one, my hubby.

General Thoughts
I'm very inspired by the new direction of my work. There is a simplicity to them that requires total honesty. They are humble pieces using humble fabrics: raw muslin and solid cottons. All of the fabrics I am using in these pieces come from other people. Deb gave me the wonderfully raw and organic muslin that is my background. The sable brown is a remnant from a suitcase full of fabrics and quilt blocks given to me by my mother. She bought the suitcase at a yard sale from the family of a deceased quilter. And the teal and cheddar fabrics I bought at my quilt guild's sale in honor of a deceased member.

I use these humble fabrics--raw muslin and faded solid cottons--and can't help but feel a connection to the known and unknown women who have quilted and sewed before me.

On Once a Month
Four weeks ago, I wrote an entry about wanting to create a larger piece each month that was inspired by a piece. I chose a cityscape and wanted to complete it by today, September 7. I started working on my cityscape and my vision kept evolving. I've realized that the piece is very important to me and is one that I want to take my time with. So I've decided not to hold myself to that arbitrary deadline and to instead take the time to create the piece I envision.

Early Morning Club, Week Seven

2008-08-31T15:54:00.002-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, August 25th

Today's piece uses an improvisational piecing method I call fragments. Basically, I cut pieces without a rotary cutter and sew them using an uneven seam allowance. I construct various fragments using these improvisational methods and lay them out until I get a pleasing composition. I then add additional pieces as needed to get the size I want. Here, I chose fabrics and colors reminiscent of weathered stone and wood.

Tuesday, August 26th

Here is another fragments piece. In this one, a photorealistic stone fabric serves as the focus. I like the monochromatic palette.

Wednesday, August 27th

My drive to work runs through Pennsylvania farmlands. Some days I revel in the scenic beauty as I drive, but most days my mind wanders. Tuesday morning, I caught a glimpse of silver silos glinting in the sunlight in the distance behind rich cropland. Perhaps it was the light, or perhaps my mind was clear and I was centered in the moment, but the image of the two silos on the hill stuck with me the rest of the day. Wednesday's piece is my attempt to capture my memory of the silo scene. I added the corner of the red barn for interest and balanced it with the rust highlights in the fields ahead.

Saturday night, I drove out to take a photo of the silos so you can see what inspired me. The light is different--I took the photo in the evening but saw the silos in the morning--but you can see how they rise up from the landscape like silver towers.

Thursday, August 28th

Another fragment piece, this one inspired by the changing landscape as autumn approaches. The light is turning golden and hints of the harvest are reflected in the rich colors.

Friday, August 29th

This fragment uses just a few fabrics. An African fabric I purchased at the Hershey Quilt Show is the focus. I bought a yard, which made me laugh at the time because nothing I've made in the past month and a half has been larger than 6" x 9". But I loved it so into the stash it went. I inserted strips in the African fabric so that the motifs seemed to weave in and out of the inset pieces.

Saturday, August 30th

I have to admit, this piece could've used a good pressing before I turned and quilted it! Ah, but beyond that, I wanted to make fragments that looked interwoven. I chose an expanded palette of colors--blue, rust, brown, and green--but just two colors for each fabric. I'm learning that in a small piece like this that too many fabrics and/or colors can be distracting and ineffective.

Sunday, August 31st

I couldn't get moving this morning. I woke early, but was feeling a bit under the weather, so I lounged around for a bit before crawling back into bed for a little more rest. As I lay there, I thought about the piece I would make and had images of fragments turning into tree silhouettes. But, more importantly, as I lay there, I realized what techniques I would need to use to create these tree fragments. The idea was so inspiring that it actually got me out of bed. This piece reminds me of my rune series from a couple weeks ago. It also is the first piece I have designed that has a border.

General Thoughts

I love making fragments. I think that every piece I made this week took longer than my allotted 30 minutes. That's because making fragments are so mesmerizing that I almost instantly enter flow. I enjoy improvisational piecing because each fabric selection, each cut, each seam sewn requires decision making so I become completely absorbed in it. And as I create fragments and place them next to each other it becomes a puzzle to solve. What pieces fit next to each other? What do I need to add to enhance and balance the design? How I will I piece this section?

On Blood and On Flow

2008-08-29T09:52:00.006-04:00

I cut my finger with my rotary cutter this morning. I was working on my morning piece, fully absorbed in my work, when I swiped the open blade on the index finger of my left hand. It immediately started to bleed. I was annoyed, not because I cut myself, but because dealing with the cut was a distraction. Not wanting to pause to find a bandage, I grabbed a tissue, wrapped it around my finger, and secured it with painter's tape. On I continued with my work.

As I was finishing up, I realized that my reaction to the cut was not typical. I can be a bit of a drama queen when it comes to injuries and pain. My family won't let me forget the time I sliced my finger while cutting a bagel. I was near hysterics thinking I needed stitches. My mother calmed me down and took a look, only to find that it was little more than a scratch. No stitches were required, just a bandage. So, to cut myself, feel annoyed, and then calmly grab the nearest bandage makeweight was not a normal reaction for me.

That's when I realized that I had spent the morning working in a state of flow.

Flow is a state of full concentration and deep enjoyment that people achieve when fully absorbed in an activity. You may recognize this state from your own experiences: when working on a task you feel alert, strong, aware, the work feels effortless, and your self-consciousness disappears. Decision making becomes effortless and creativity abounds. You stop questioning and criticizing and instead just do. Your sense of time distorts: it may seem to stand still or pass in a flash. You feel a sense of ease and transcendence where you achieve a sense of oneness with what you are doing. Flow is a state of optimal, human experience.

But the really cool thing about flow is you can create conditions that encourage flow.

You want to find work that you love, that you believe to be important. It's much easier to achieve flow when working on something that matters to you, that can grab your attention and awareness fully.

Your task should be challenging, rather than comfortable, but not so difficult that it becomes frustrating. This requires understanding your current ability level and skill set and choosing work that stretches them, without completely outpacing them.

Your environment should be free of distractions. Let your family know you're working and ask them to give you a couple hours of quiet. Turn off cell phones and email. Feed the cat or walk the dog before you begin, so your fuzzy friends don't make demands on you.

You should work within your own peak hours. We all have times of day when we feel bright and energetic and other times when we are sluggish and uninspired. Encourage flow by working during the hours when you feel your best.

Practice patience and focus on the work you are doing. Don't worry about whether or not you are in flow--that's not the point. Instead, pour yourself into your work and let yourself be with it.

For me, my Early Morning Club has had an unexpected side benefit. I find myself entering a state of flow more easily and more frequently. Just this morning, for example, I lost complete track of time. I began working at 7:20 a.m. and cut my finger at 8:35 a.m. I had no idea that much time had passed.

Looking at how my morning club is constructed, it's no surprise that I've been entering flow. I am working on things I love, fiber arts and quilting. I'm gradually increasing the complexity of my designs. I started with very simple composition, but my pieces have become more involved as I've started stretching myself. I work in the morning quiet, before my husband awakes. And I've kept at it every morning for six weeks, patiently practicing and practicing and practicing some more. Without even realizing it, I created the perfect conditions for flow.

The irony is it took a spot of blood to understand that flow is what I've found.

Happy People Dancing

2008-08-28T11:50:00.005-04:00

NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day website is a great place to go to be inspired by the wonders of the universe. Each day they select a photo from our universe and include a brief explanation from an astronomer. But a posting from last month reminds us that the greatest inspiration may come from a simple smile and a dance.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Enjoy!

45 Days

2008-08-27T11:12:00.000-04:00

This morning, I completed my 45th mini-quilt. That's a month-and-a-half's work. I have to admit to a sense of satisfaction when I see the stack of mini-quilts growing next to my laptop.

The pile measures about 7" high. It's an interesting strata to analyze. The early pieces are on the bottom while the recent pieces are on top. There's a lot more background color in the lower layers. That's because the the early pieces were constrained--I saw the edges as a border and tried to stay away from them when designing.

I remember the moment I realized that 6" x 9" was only the finished size of the piece, but that the actual image could be larger and cropped to size. My work became more interesting as I viewed the world with a new perspective--one that was no longer constrained by an arbitrary size requirement.

As I look at the pile, I can remember how proud I was during the first few days and weeks. Each morning I'd finish the piece and run upstairs to place it on the small, but growing, pile. Once or twice a week, I'd spread them out and look at them together, noting similarities in theme, design, and color. And, I have to admit, just admire the fact that I had made them all. Each piece was precious to me, whether it worked or not.

Now that I have 45 pieces, I no longer do that. As the pile has gotten bigger, the addition of one more quilt hardly impacts its size. Spreading them out now would take a lot of time and my style has changed from the first few weeks. I can always scroll through my blog to see them.

But more importantly, I've become less attached to any one piece. As I wrote yesterday, it's no longer about the product for me, instead, it's the process. After yesterday's post, my husband emailed and commented, "And, with each new piece you create, that adds to your total of art work (good or bad) so that new pieces don't seem so imposing ... what's a new piece with the hundreds you've already made, and the dozens of techniques / patterns / etc. you have at your disposal?"

I replied, "Yeah, the more I do work, the less any one piece feels precious to me. There's always tomorrow, you know."

Creative Work vs. Creative Play

2008-08-26T12:27:00.002-04:00

work: exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something; labor; toil.

play: exercise or activity for amusement or recreation.

I used to be careful to define what I do as creative play, rather than creative work. My idea was that play was less stressful. If I was playing on something and didn't like it, it didn't matter because I was just doing it for fun. But if I was working on something and it didn't work out, then those hours of toil would have been wasted.

This morning I realized that my thoughts have changed. I gladly refer to what I am doing as work rather than play. My morning pieces are indeed an "effort directed to produce or accomplish something," an idea that would have scared me six months ago.

What I want to accomplish is not just a finished 6" x 9" mini-quilt every morning. (Although I do feel a sense of satisfaction and pride from watching the stack of quilts grow.) My overarching goal is larger than that. It's more about the process than the product. I want to become a better artist and the only way I can is to actually do the work.

And work it is. Six weeks of waking early and heading to my studio requires focused effort. Even though I've become a morning person over the past couple years, working in the morning requires me to ignore the beckoning of my laptop and cozy recliner in favor of my studio. I head downstairs, collect my thoughts, and begin selecting fabrics and sketching ideas for that morning's piece. That is work.

After six weeks, I am even more committed to this process, to my work. I learn something from each piece, whether I like it or not. There is no risk of wasting time or toil, because I often learn more from pieces that don't work than those that do. So work is what I do and I love it.

I can't wait to go back to work tomorrow.

Early Morning Club, Week 6

2008-08-24T12:56:00.000-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, August 18th
I wanted to play with different type of backgrounds. This piece is a collage of rust and gold fabrics moving from light to dark. I covered the piece with 4 different colors of tulle and free-motion quilted flames in different colors of thread. To me, the tulle flattens the texture and dulls the fabric colors. My thread colors also lack contrast and vibrancy. My stitching and embellishment choices need to be more interesting.

Tuesday, August 19th

I wanted to continue working with collage-style backgrounds. Here, I chose three colors--blues, greens, and rusts--in values ranging from medium-light to almost dark. It feels vaguely like a landscape, but I didn't overlap the fabrics from front to back to reflect the depth perspective of a landscape. I used different quilting motifs for the three colors. I think that the parallel lines in the blues are the most effective and interesting.

Wednesday, August 20th

During my first week, I made a couple of pieces playing with the idea of river rocks. I love river rocks and have a small collection. I love their soft and worn appearance and how they feel cradled in my hands. So I wanted to play with a river rock collage and possibly use it as the background for a rune shrine. I had fun searching through my stash searching for river rock fabrics. It was not a big surprise that I had many fabrics that would work.

The scale of the rocks was too large to work as a rune piece, so I kept it simple. If I had more time, I would have added more quilting lines to each rock to give added texture. I also think that fabric paints, fabric inks, and threadwork could be used to add dimension through shadows and highlights.

Thursday, August 21st

Thursday's piece came out of my head, rather than my heart or gut or muse or whatever you call the place where art arises from within. Late nights watching the Olympics started catching up with me, so when I awoke on Thursday I had no creative energy. I remembered a movie scene fragment that I had sketched and decided to try to recreate it in fabric.

As I was thinking about the piece, I had thoughts (not images) of a forest city, with skyscrapers grown from trees. I came up with the the title "You Can't See the City for the Trees," which is a vaguely amusing pun. Without a clear vision for the piece, I was left to work with the words and thoughts in my head. And the lack of inspiration shows.

The one thing I do like about this piece is the way the stitching breaks outside the fused gold and green shapes--it treats them as a unit, rather than individual shapes.

Friday, August 22nd

Given how frustrated this piece made me, I am surprisingly pleased with it. I stayed up far too late on Thursday night watching Misty May and Kerry Walsh win a gold medal in women's beach volleyball, continuing my Olympic sleep deprivation. The lack of sleep and various other things threw off my morning routine, so I didn't get downstairs right away. And when I got in my studio, I again found myself in head space, rather than in creative space.

So, there I was, faced with a blank 6" x 9" space that needed to be filled. I wanted to expand on my idea from Wednesday and had a sketch. But I just wasn't in the right mood to create. It took almost 10 minutes just to settle on the three main shapes in the composition. And then I couldn't decide what color to use for the background. So I decided to try something different and grabbed my watercolor crayons. I grabbed a brownish-looking crayon and without reading the label, I began coloring the background. Imagine my surprise when I began brushing it with water and it turned plum.

I panicked and ran upstairs to wash the color out, setting the unfinished piece in the sink and rubbing it with soap. I could only get so much color out, but the background stayed pink. I showed it to Kevin and told him how frustrated I was. He told me to put it aside and that maybe it would look different later. I took his advice.

I worked on this piece again on Saturday because I wanted to see if I could salvage it. I added the plum color back to the background, fused on the gold and green shapes, and quilted the piece. Because I didn't care about it, I was able to take risks and try things I might not have if I been working on a piece I liked.

And it turned out that I do, in fact, like this piece. It seems very feminine to me, perhaps from the curvaceous shapes, the plum color, and the spiral stitching motifs. Again, I'm learning to go outside the lines with my quilting.

Saturday, August 23rd

I worked on Saturday's piece before I finished Friday's. So I started it feeling fairly dejected and completely uninspired. I was in a blue and gray mood, so I grabbed those fabrics and made this background set. It reminded me of the my rune shrines, so I grabbed my symbol book and thumbed through it. "The Rune of Ice," also known as "The Rune of Waiting" is for patience during periods of stagnation. That seemed appropriate given my mood, so it became the title.

Sunday, August 24th

Last week, I tried creating a river carving through a canyon. It didn't work. It was more a river plopped onto a background. My work earlier this week inspired me to try again using the collage method. I was also inspired by photos of a rafting trip through the Grand Canyon that a sales representative showed us.

The collage method worked--the river is carved into, rather than plopped onto, the canyon. I played a bit with lights and darks to create shadows and highlights in the canyon walls. I'm pretty happy with this, considering at the half-hour mark I stopped fiddling and started stitching.

General Thoughts

This week was interesting. Last week, several people mentioned to me that they liked my pieces for the week. My brother even told me, "I'm no art critic, but I think you're getting better." That was high praise indeed.

As I began this week, I intentionally wanted to try different things and remember that the purpose of this process is to grow as an artist, not necessarily to make lots of pieces that earn me praise and compliments. (Because I do so love to be praised and complimented.) So even though I would love to make lots more runes, I decided to put that idea aside for a bit.

Then, I hit the wall midweek. I learned how essential a good night's sleep is to being in the right state of mind to be creative. As frustrating as it was, I look back and am glad that I worked through it and didn't abandon the pieces, even though I wanted to. I also learned that I can't think my way into art--that it arises from someplace deeper within.

I also learned the value of taking risks and trying things. And honestly, there is no risk to trying something on these pieces--the worst that can happen is that I make an ugly piece, which is no risk at all. Because in the end, I learn something from each piece I make. And maybe I learn more from things that don't go well than from things that do.

Early Morning Club, Week 5

2008-08-17T11:11:00.004-04:00

I started the Early Morning Club as a way to create lots of pieces and meet my crap quota. Each morning I get up and spend 30 minutes or less composing a 6" x 9" finished vertical piece. Here are the pieces from the past week.

Monday, August 11th

I started this piece as I normally do, by just arranging and fiddling with different fabric shapes. At one point I realized that it was starting to look like a television. That reminded me of how disoriented I felt the night before while watching the Olympics on NBC.

I very, very rarely watch network television (just Liverpool and other soccer matches, as well as Doctor Who and Torchwood on BBC America). There were so many things happening--graphics moving, backgrounds moving, music playing, non-stop announcers talking--that it was confusing and overstimulating. This piece reflects the confusion and disorientation I felt while watching. I named this piece "300 Channels and Nothing is On."

Tuesday, August 12th

After the utter chaos of Monday's piece, I entered my studio on Tuesday wanting to make a piece that felt soothing and calming. I created the background layers of gradated purples and teals first, with no expectation of what would go on top. When I finished the background I realized it felt like the ocean.

I have been reading about early culture symbols, such as runes, as research for devising my own symbol set. The rune, Laguz, is known as "The Rune of the Sea," and seemed an apt focus for this piece. I do feel calm when looking at this piece. It's like a shrine.

Wednesday, August 13th

I wanted to keep working with the quiet color palette from yesterday. I like the gradated purple and green squares. I also like how I combined the strip set, the striped fabric, and the teal batik on the left. So I like elements of this piece, but the overall composition lacks focus and cohesion.

Thursday, August 14th

A vision of a lush green background was the inspiration for this piece, titled "The Rune of Right Nourishment." I like how I balanced the use of gold as a contrast to all the green: in the three little squares, as the background for the rune, and in the background.

Friday, August 15th

"The Rune of the Forging of Character" was inspired by a vision of overlapping flames the previous evening. So when I woke up and headed downstairs, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I only allow myself 30 minutes each day for the composition, so I had a lot of work to do in choosing the fabrics and making combinations, cutting out and overlapping the flame shapes, and then creating the foreground elements. I didn't have much time to edit or consider, I could only cut and place. There's a lot of energy and life in this piece.

Saturday, August 16th
Again, this piece was inspired by a vision the night before. There I was, sitting and waiting for Michael Phelps to win another gold, when I saw a tree in the moonlight. I made a note and remembered it for the next morning's piece.

This is the first piece I've done in which stitching serves as a design element and not just as a way to keep the glued pieces in place. I used four different colors of thread to capture shadows and moonlight. I like how this piece looks like sketch. It's titled "Night Vision."

Sunday, August 17th

Again, this piece was inspired by a vision, but unfortunately, the reality of the piece doesn't match what I envisioned. I don't think that I made the right technical decisions in executing it. My vision was of a teal river carving through a lush green landscape. This river seems plonked down, not carved. I again used stitching as a design element. I have some ideas that I may try over the next week or so to try to get the look I want.

General Thoughts

This week rocked. The previous four weeks were mostly about playing with fabric until I found an arrangement that looked good to me. This week was different. For the most part this week, I had a vision in mind that I then tried to create. That is so exciting to me.

I've spent a lot of time thinking and writing about finding my voice. But this week I've learned that I can't think my way to it. I have to create and create and create some more until I find that I do indeed have something to say. I believe that the work of the previous four weeks primed the pump so to speak. I may just have a trickle of ideas now, but more may come. And if it dries up again, I've learned that creating something anyway works.

Five of my pieces this week have titles. I've decided not to try to title them, but if a title comes to me while I'm working on it, then I will use it. It seems that when I have something to say, then a title comes along.

I like the accidental rune series I've developed. I have a couple more ideas that I will play with in the future.

On Time and Experience

2008-08-15T18:34:00.006-04:00

I recently watched an interview with Bob Bowman, Michael Phelps' swim coach. While the training and preparation for the Olympics was the intended focus, there was one question and answer that stayed with me. (I'm paraphrasing the interview here.)

The interviewer asked Bowman "You discovered Michael when he was eleven and had never coached Olympic-level swimmers previously. How did you know that you could?"

Bowman replied, "Well, first you have to understand that that was twelve years ago."

The conversation moved on at that point, but to me, his meaning was clear. Twelve years of learning and growth and change and challenges were necessary to get to the point where Bowman is the coach of one of the most elite athletes in history. It's well-known that Bowman recognized Michael's rare talent and competitive spirit upon first meeting him, but did he imagine just how extraordinary Michael would become?

Regardless of what his earliest vision was, Bowman's response shows his understanding that time and experience are necessary to achieve great things.

I am beginning to learn that myself. Throughout my life I've set what appear to be unrealistic goals, at least from the position I was starting at. I would compare where I was to where I wanted to be and despair at the enormous gap. I believed my goals to be impossible and would cast them aside.

But I've changed. I am still setting goals (and they are no less ambitious), but now I believe that I can actually achieve them. Why? Because I've learned the value of time and experience. I don't expect to immediately climb to the summit of a mountain while I'm still learning to crawl. But I can see a progression: I need to learn to crawl, then walk, hike, and climb small hills before I can even attempt that mountain.

I may or may not ever reach that peak, but that doesn't really matter. Isn't the journey--rather than the destination--the point of life anyway? And if I achieve something great along the way, well, that's even better. But I'll enjoy the journey either way.

Once a Month

2008-08-11T10:22:00.004-04:00

Yesterday concluded my fourth week of the Early Morning Club. To me, four weeks equals a month, even if it is a few days short. They say it takes 30 days to form a habit and I believe I've done so. Each morning upon awaking I head downstairs to my studio--there is no question about whether I want to do it or not, I just do. These four weeks have taught me a lot about myself, about creative play and creative work, and about commitment.

But I'm feeling that I still need to go deeper. Making a small piece each day is rewarding and educational, but to some extent it feels like a one-shot. Although there are certain themes that repeat, I approach each piece as brand new. Each day gets 30 minutes, give or take, before I stitch it down and call it finished. I don't always have the time to resolve lingering questions about the design or issues with the composition. Each piece really functions as a sketch, rather than a full-blown work in it's own right.

So I've decided that every four weeks I'll choose one piece as the inspiration of a larger, more involved work. This will give me the opportunity to delve more deeply the subject and work more thoughtfully, rather than instinctively, which is all I have time for with my morning pieces.

I don't want to put a lot of restrictions on myself. The only rule is that I need to finish the piece before the next four weeks are up. I'll try to keep the size manageable for a four week period, probably no larger than 18" x 24". The layout can be vertical or horizontal. Any techniques may be used. The final piece doesn't even have to resemble the inspiration--it just needs to be inspired from it.

The piece I've chosen is one I'm excited about because it's an idea I've been considering for some time.

I love walking through cities and watching the changing skyline. I take lots of photographs for future reference. Here's a photo from last year's trip to Liverpool, England that has always been asking to be made into a quilt. Maybe now it will.

So, my challenge is to make a piece inspired by the fabric cityscape above and finish it by Sunday, September 7th.

Early Morning Club, Week Four

2008-08-10T12:33:00.002-04:00

Monday, August 4th

This piece bores me. It sends me to sleep. I have been struggling with creating more interesting backgrounds so I thought that I would try a collage-style piece, similar to a scrapbook page. But the background still lacks contrast, the foreground elements are uninspired, and the colors are very boring. And even when I think about changing things--making a higher-contrast background, creating more interesting elements, adding snappier color--I am still bored by the idea.

Tuesday, August 5th

After yesterday's sleep inducing snoozer, it's refreshing to have a piece full of color and fun and movement and whimsy. No, it's not groundbreaking work--lots of people have made wonky cityscapes--but it's new for me. I like that the scene is not confined by the background, there is the sense that the city continues on outside the edges. There is more texture in my fabric choices, which adds visual interest. I also had fun picking color combinations for the windows and buildings.

Wednesday, August 6th

This piece began as the background alternating layers of darks and lights. It reminded me of subterranean rivers twining in dark places. I added the river rocks in various sizes to further bring forth that idea. I limited the palette to browns, greens, and a touch of gold. I also used more values with a higher contrast--darkest darks and lighter lights.

Thursday, August 7th

Each day I make one of these pieces I learn a little something more. What excites me the most about this piece is the diagonal line of green squares. I have a tendency to want to stay in the grid, but here I broke it by moving the green squares across the yellow into the sage. I also echoed the designs in the batik with the magenta design in the upper right corner.

Friday, August 8th

Today was difficult. I had an early appointment that gave me little time to work this morning. I started something but didn't finish it before I had to leave the house. After my appointment, I headed to work early. I created this piece there, but found working in a different environment to be challenging--I didn't have my tools, my fabrics, or the comfort of my studio. This piece reflects a return to rigidity and symmetry due to circumstances.

Saturday, August 9th

When I finished this piece Saturday morning, I hated it. I didn't even like looking at it. I didn't place it on the pile of my previous pieces, instead I rolled it up and stuck it in the champagne bucket where I keep my incoming bills. I headed to work fully intending to make another piece when I got home. (And I even considered burning it in our fire pit.)

After a full day at the shop, I returned home and took another look at it. Kevin suggested taking some time to think about why I disliked it so. He also reminded me that the point of this process is to make lots of crap. I realizes that rust and gold are not colors that I normally use a lot. It also didn't match my vision for the piece: I wanted the gold shapes to appear more connected to the background, perhaps like they were carved into the surface, rather than applied on top. I decided to keep it and not bother making another.

But my visceral reaction was interesting. And it was truly visceral--looking at it made my stomach hurt. It's weird, but sometimes art I don't like makes me feel queasy.

Sunday, August 10th

It wasn't my intention at all, but this piece reminds me of really abstract fish. Either that or fin-tailed cars from the fifties. It's fun and I like it.

General Thoughts

This was my fourth complete week in the morning club. To my reckoning, that's one full month (well, a short month) of keeping my commitment to awake each morning and create. If I look over the pieces from this month, I can see improvement.

But the biggest improvement is in my own approach to creation. Each piece I complete teaches me something. And I tuck those little lessons away one by one, only to remember and use them in the future.

I feel like I'm becoming more fluid and less rigid in my thinking. I'm trying to break out of the grid and I am slowly seeing signs that I am. I also think that I am becoming bolder with my ideas. This week there is much less background space in my work. I'm using more of the space, including the space outside the 6" x 9" rectangle. And I'm working on developing relationships between the elements in my design, so they aren't separate shapes floating unconnected in space.

I am learning so much more than I even imagined. The secret to improvement is practice. And each day I make another I improve a little, tiny bit.

Onto another month of creative play and practice.

Ways of Thinking

2008-08-05T10:07:00.003-04:00

My husband is a very smart man. No, not just because of his multiple degrees in physics and engineering. And not just because he reads for fun books that consist of little but numbers and equations and symbols I've never seen before.

No, my husband is a very smart man because in just a short conversation he gives me a new perspective on things and better insight into myself.

Case in point, my most recent blog entry. After he read it, he came downstairs with a thought-provoking comment about the final section.

I am enjoying this process. It's satisfying to watch the pile of completed pieces rise each day. And even if I can't really say whether my work is improving, I can say that my mind is. I'm feeling more relaxed and willing to try different things, even if they don't work.

Could it be that I am becoming comfortable with the idea of failure? That would be a very welcome development.

He reminded me of the story of Thomas Edison's invention of the carbon filament for electric light bulbs. Edison tried hundreds of different ideas until he found the one that worked. Edison said,

"I have not failed 700 times. I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those 700 ways will not work. When I have eliminated the ways that do not work, I will find the way that will work."

Kevin suggested that perhaps I should only think of each piece in terms of whether it works or does not, rather than label a piece a failure. He reminded me that I'm doing this to try new things and that I should focus more on the process and less on the final product.

I thought I was thinking about it that way, but that critical word failure had slipped in anyway. His pointing it out reminded me that I need to be aware of the words I use to talk about my work and make sure that they are constructive and supportive rather than critical and destructive.

Like I said, he's a very smart man.

Early Morning Club, Week Three

2008-08-03T12:17:00.006-04:00

Monday, July 28th

I am taking an online class on designing lines and this piece is based on one of my drawings.
The lines in my fabric piece aren't as heavy as I wanted them to be. I wanted the weight of the lines to balance the negative space, letting the composition be just lines and the spaces in between. But in the fabric piece, the lines are thin and as a result the balance is lost. The piece felt empty and incomplete, so I added little squares.

This also differs in that the lines are pieced, rather than fused or glued in place.

Tuesday, July 29th

My favorite from the week, which surprises me given the circumstances under which I made it. We woke up early to celebrate Robbie Keane day. With all that excitement, I just didn't want to head downstairs and work. I did it, although I have to admit that my attitude was poor. I began in a haphazard manner, just placing fabric without thought. But after placing a few pieces, I began to envision interconnected triangles and circles soaring into space. There is movement in this piece. Not many of my pieces have movement. That is something to work on.

I limited the palette again to mostly neutrals. I find a smaller, neutral palette to be pleasing to work with and look at.

Wednesday, July 30th

This is a fused variation of Monday's piece. I wanted to try skinnier lines that were less rigid so I cut them without using a ruler. I like this one better. The spaces created by the lines are more interesting. And I like the mostly primary circles. I think it looks fun, like a game board or a puzzle.

Thursday, July 31st

I used leftover bits of strip sets for this piece. There's a lot of texture in the fabrics I used.

Friday, August 1st
This piece didn't work out as I wanted. I was trying to create a syncopated rhythm, but don't think I really achieved it. It reminds me of the standing stones piece I created in my first week, which is interesting because that wasn't my intention at all. I might try this again, but make small to large versions of the same shape, rather than of different shapes. That might help achieve syncopation.

Saturday, August 2nd
I wanted to work with more layers in this piece: an interesting background, foreground shapes, and then accent strips. It's hard to tell, but there are three light rectangles in the background. They were meant to provide additional interest and help connect the foreground shapes. But there is not enough contrast so it's hard to see them. I also think that the accent strips would be more effective if they sometimes interacted with the brown shapes.

Sunday, August 3rd

I like this piece as well. The yellow shapes on the blue remind me of city lights and skyscrapers as night, which is an area I have wanted to explore for a while. But this piece also moves a little away from the grid structure that I have been using a lot.

General Thoughts

It is difficult to find things to say about each piece. I have no formal art training. I've read a few books here and there, so have picked up some words and ideas that I think I understand, but don't know for sure. I've never participated in a formal or even informal critique of my work or of someone else's.

So when it comes time to write about each piece, I can only go by my instincts: I like this or don't like that or wish I would've done something different. But a truly informed understanding of each piece and why it works or doesn't is beyond me at the moment.

That's OK. It's not meant to be a put down, just a fair assessment of where I am at the current moment.

I am enjoying this process. It's satisfying to watch the pile of completed pieces rise each day. And even if I can't really say whether my work is improving, I can say that my mind is. I'm feeling more relaxed and willing to try different things, even if they don't work.

Could it be that I am becoming comfortable with the idea of failure? That would be a very welcome development.

And That Was the Week That Was

2008-07-28T09:31:00.001-04:00

And so began my second week as a member of the Early Morning Club. Let's get straight to the pieces.

Monday, July 21st

Throughout the first week, I worked from scraps leftover from a series of related projects. They are all colors and fabrics I love using. As I began working on Monday, I decided to alter my palette a little and I grabbed scraps from an unrelated project. These are purples and periwinkles and blues--pretty colors in their own right--but not colors that I tend to use.

Even though the composition reflects the themes of the previous week (overlapping shapes of contrasting colors arranged on a background) I found it much more difficult because I was working with colors I am not as familiar or comfortable with.

The composition is alright. I liked using two different shape combinations, but they do lack connection. I added the small green rectangles connecting the triangle units to help unify the design, but think it's too literal a solution.

After this experiment, I decided to stick to variations of my preferred palette for the time being.

Tuesday, July 22nd

I mostly like this piece and think it offers many possibilities for the future. Again, I created more complex shape (and color) combinations. Copper squares show up again to help make connections between the four units.

I like the little touch of red. I don't generally use much red in my work, but here it's unexpected enough to create a little visual interest.

Wednesday, July 23rd

I love this piece: it has a washed-out look that is calming and balanced. I loved using the restrained palette of near neutrals, of having to balance just a few colors, and of using value as much as color. In a larger piece, I would play more with interlocking the shapes like puzzles.

Thursday, July 24th

I recently read a book on pre-historic mark making. I was fascinated by pictures of ancient carvings and paintings. Did they originally mean something--directions, a record of trade, a warning? Or were they just created for expressive, aesthetic reasons? This piece reminds me of such marks.

Friday, July 25th

The process for creating this piece was different from the previous mornings. Usually, I play with my composition--adding and substituting and rearranging the shapes until I find a design I am happy with. Once I am happy then I fuse and glue everything down. But this one began differently.

I had an image of a red dot interrupting gray stripes. So I began there. I quickly realized that the gray stripes weren't going to stay put, so I fused them into place. This set a constraint that guided the rest of the design. For the rest of the piece I fused and glued as I went.

My husband think that it looks like math (he's an engineer/physicist). I think that's due to the symmetry of the piece. I think it looks like the movement of planets and rivers. Perhaps I've recreated an ancient alchemical formula for stopping time in its tracks.

I think it looks more interesting in a horizontal layout.

Saturday, July 26th

I've started keeping a journal to go along with each day's work. Here's an excerpt from Saturday:

Today I awoke with a busy day staring me in the face. I wanted to keep my commitment and so went downstairs and began as I always do--placing little scraps on my background until inspiration strikes. I half-heartedly arranged colors and shapes but a vision kept appearing of browns and reds--of barn doors weathered and shining in the sun. I wanted serenity and balance from this piece because I knew my day wouldn't be that calm again.

I stripped the background of the chaotic jumble of greens, grays, teals, and golds in triangles and rectangles and other assorted polygons. Then I selected three browns and cut a rectangle from each. I centered a red square and added little yellow accent squares. The part of me that wanted serenity was satisfied.

I like this piece, but want to take the idea further by playing with value--both in the foreground and background. I'd love a hand-dyed/painted background to go from light to dark and place rectangles on it going from dark to light.

(I seriously need to add painting/dying/surface design to my toolbox. I feel constrained by the limited fabrics I own. I want to be able to create exactly the type of fabric that I need.)

Sunday, July 27th

This piece went astray on me. I wanted to play with Thursday's idea, but got lost along the way. I like the top third, but the bottom leaves a lot to be desired. Ah well, more crap for the quota!

General Thoughts

This week was busier than last, which made getting up each morning more challenging. But each morning I awoke and said "Yes" to creation makes it harder to say "No" in the future.

This week's work is more scattered and less cohesive than last week's. But I think that's OK. I was starting to feel overly comfortable with working with one or two shapes only. It's much more challenging to work with multiple shapes and find a cohesive design. I think that's why Thursday, Friday, and Sunday's pieces are so formal in layout and why there is so much symmetry in their design.

That gives me a direction for the coming weeks: to play with using different shapes in informal and asymmetric layouts.

On Mark Making and Time

2008-07-23T08:03:00.005-04:00

While stitching down this morning's piece, I started thinking about symbols and mark making. And I realized that what I wrote last night about one of my pieces doesn't accurately reflect my thoughts.

I don't know what to think about this piece. I like it. I mean, I look at it and it is pleasing to me. But I'm not sure that it speaks for me--at least the images and visions that I have in my mind now. I used to use flower/flame/teardrop shapes in my work a lot. This reminds me of then. Now my visions are of geology and stones, of geometry and angles, of hard edges and permanence. This looks organic and transitory. It doesn't feel like the stories I want to tell.

Those two words--permanence and transitory--aren't exactly what I mean. But I only realized it this morning.

I'm fascinated by human mark making of all kinds: language symbols, monument building, art, architecture, stone carvings, graphic design, graffiti, and the artifacts and remnants of human industry. We are compelled to make changes in the landscape and environment around us, whether we are building a skyscraper, making circles of stones at the beach, or spray-painting our tags on subway trains.

It's the mark making that compels me, not whether the marks themselves are permanent or transitory. The idea that any mark we make is permanent is an illusion. Even prehistoric stone monuments like Stonehenge have survived only due to preservation efforts. Time erases everything.

So, my problem with that piece is not that it looks transitory, but that it is organic. It looks plant-like, as if it has grown out of the landscape, rather than intentionally created by human hands.

Don't get me wrong, nature is undoubtedly beautiful and awe-inspiring and a worthy subject for a lifetime of artistic exploration. But at this point I'm interested in exploring the many and varied ways that we humans leave our temporary marks on our world.

Early Morning Club, Part 2

2008-07-22T19:24:00.003-04:00

Just a little over a week ago, I became a member of the Early Morning Club. The meetings take place in my studio first thing each morning. I am the only attendee, although I have occasional feline guests. The plan is to stumble downstairs immediately upon waking and tap into remnants of the dream state. (In the interest of full honesty, I must admit that I do hop online first to check Liverpool transfer news.)

My goals are to develop a creative habit, to learn to finish what I start, to use and appreciate time better, and to create a fair bit of crap so that I can find my voice. With that in mind, here's how the week went.

Monday, July 14th

I began a week ago Monday. Callie nosed me awake at 6:00 a.m. and I immediately stumbled downstairs and began working. Here is Monday's piece.

It's a very simple composition: four river rocks balanced by a vertical line. The palette is more muted than the colors I normally use. Perhaps that is attributable to early morning grogginess.

Tuesday, July 15th.

This piece is truly deserving of the label "crap." And I mean that with all the kindness in the world! I have been developing on a personal symbology for future work and I had considered using these pieces as an outlet for further exploration. But, I think this looks like a bastardized Olympic logo.

I've since decided that surface design and printing is a better medium for exploring my symbol language. To me, these symbols are about mark making, and as such, I think that the hand of the artist needs to show more than it does with flat fabric cutouts

Wednesday, July 16th.

This piece started similarly to Monday's, with various squares lined up in a row. I started playing and found that overlapping the squares made the composition more interesting. The little copper squares help unify the design. This design idea has lots of potential. I could play with transparency, value gradations, and color shifts.

Thursday, July 17th.

This is a variation of Monday's composition. I like it better because there's a bit more interest with the value changes in the rocks and in the trellis added in the corner. But I think that the basic idea needs to be taken further before it's truly a successful composition.

Friday, July 18th.

This piece was inspired by the standing stones we saw on our trip to England last year. I like the idea of this piece, but it needs a fair bit of work. The standing stones seem to be floating--disconnected from the landscape background. Threadwork could help ground the stones into the landscape.

Saturday, July 19th.

This is my favorite piece from the week. I concentrated on the composition of the negative space as much as I did the foreground. I think the eye moves well around the quilt.

Sunday, July 2oth

I don't know what to think about this piece. I like it. I mean, I look at it and it is pleasing to me. But I'm not sure that it speaks for me--at least the images and visions that I have in my mind now. I used to use flower/flame/teardrop shapes in my work a lot. This reminds me of then. Now my visions are of geology and stones, of geometry and angles, of hard edges and permanence. This looks organic and transitory. It doesn't feel like the stories I want to tell.

General Thoughts

I'm really happy with what I have accomplished so far. Just the act of honoring my commitment each morning is an accomplishment. But then I also get to see a little stack of quilts rise on the table as I add each morning's piece to the previous work.

I've already noticed a difference in how I approach the blank background each morning. Last Monday and Tuesday were hard--it took the full half-hour I allow myself for design just to come up with what I did. But as the week has progressed, I've felt more fluid and open to possibilities.

I am starting to see themes arise--preferred shapes and compositions, colors and palettes--that offer me lots of potential for experimentation.

At this stage, I'm not too worried about whether what I am creating is good or not. My main goal is to develop a creative habit and begin to discover my voice. To that end, I believe my first week has been successful.

Since the first week, I've created two more pieces (Monday and Tuesday). I intend to continue posting weekly updates.

If you are interested in starting your own Early Morning Club, I highly encourage you to do so. (And if you do, let me know.) The meetings can be whatever you want. The secret is in actually attending them.

Early Morning Club, Part 1

2008-07-20T09:27:00.003-04:00

It's funny how the minds works. We come across a piece of advice and store it away. Then we encounter another suggestion and remember it as well. Some time later, we put the two together and find exactly the advice we needed.

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I used to be late-to-bed and late-to-rise--I'd stay up past midnight and sleep past eight. My mornings were full of chaos as I'd rush to get to work. But over the past eighteen months I have become a morning person. I rise with the sun and have a couple hours before starting my morning routine.

My use of those hours has been erratic. Sometimes I am productive--baking, cleaning, doing laundry, reading, or occasionally even sewing--but other times I just sit, read email, and surf the internet. But, I've recently encountered two pieces of advice that have changed my mornings.

The first was from Robert Genn, on The Early Morning Club. (Robert Genn writes a free, twice-weekly letter for artists that is interesting and inspirational. Sometimes, the letter is geared to painters, but often the advice generalizes across mediums.)

In this letter, Genn recommends heading to the studio immediately upon waking. No stopping for breakfast, or to check email, or a quick shower. The idea is to immediately move from the dream state to the act of creation.

I read this and was intrigued enough to save the email and remember it. But I wasn't inspired enough to try it out.

The second suggestion came from a discussion of this Ira Glass video on my Quilt Art mailing list. Here, Glass says that the problem for beginning artists is that our taste levels are higher than our ability to create work that matches those levels. In other words, we can't yet create pieces that match our vision. It's only by making lots of pieces that we can get through the mire and find the art we want.

Or, as one woman suggested, we have a crap quota we need to meet before we get to the good stuff.

And so I realized that I haven't created enough crap.

These two thoughts--the Early Morning Club and crap quota--coalesced in my mind. I can use those early morning hours as an opportunity to work through my crap quote. I decided that each morning for the forseeable future, I would wake, head to my studio, and create a little piece.

To make it easier for myself I set some guidelines. All pieces would finish 6" x 9" in a vertical orientation. I would fuse or glue the fabric down, stitch it in place, and use a modified pillowcase finish. To me, it is important to finish these pieces. I want to form a habit of finishing projects. So finishing something each day, regardless of how small it may be, reinforces the finishing habit.

Thirty minutes is the maximum amount of time I allow myself to work on a composition. After thirty, I stick it down and stitch, whether I'm happy with it or not.

The idea is to get pieces out of my head, onto fabric, and out into the world.

This process is still evolving. I can see changing what I'm doing over time. But the idea is twofold: to use the extra time I've discovered by becoming a morning person and to create lots of work so I meet my crap quota.

Tomorrow, I'll post the pieces I made in my first week.

Habits of Thought

2008-07-13T14:41:00.008-04:00

We fall into patterns, routines, and habits of thought without even realizing it. We reach again and again for our preferred problem-solving paradigms, favored short-cuts for thinking, and familiar perspectives. Even (perhaps especially) when we are in the midst of change, we may find our selves reaching for the tried-and-true rather than struggle through discovering something new.

I just experienced this while working on a piece. And while the piece doesn't work, I've learned something about my own creative habits in the process.

For a few months, I have been sensing a change in my personal aesthetic. Two weeks away from work in early July provided freedom for creative play to discover my voice. Over the two weeks, I started four new pieces that reflect the change in my style.

Note that I say I have started four pieces. Even though they are not particularly complex, I have yet to finish any. I am in a quandry because I don't know what done means in the context of my new work. I used to embellish and heavily machine-quilt my works. When I couldn't stitch anything else to the quilt, then I knew it was done. But, for a variety of reasons, that no longer appeals to me.

So here I am with these new pieces. Are they done? I'm not sure. A couple of them feel done to me, even though the only quilting on them is in-the-ditch. One needs a little more quilting, but I'm afraid of overdoing it. And one still needs to be assembled. (It's a collection of fifteen miniature 9-patches that will be attached to a base quilt).

So on this Sunday afternoon, I headed to my studio to finish one of those pieces. I was still feeling a little uncertain about my work, so I decided to make a quick-and-dirty mini-quilt. I grabbed scraps and began arranging them to find an appealing composition. I didn't want to over think it. I just wanted to start and finish something within thirty minutes or so.

I began with a composition that reflects the type of work I am doing now. Geometric, graphic, and minimal. I liked what I had, but didn't trust that it was done.

As I began stitching down the pieces, I again fell into habit. I started zigzagging the edges of the elements in the green form using matching thread. I decided not to zigzag the circle and curves, but to instead free-motion quilt them. My stitching and thread choices emphasized the notion of a sun, rather than just shape. (The sun is a recurrent motif from my earlier work.)

Once that shape became a sun, then the composition felt unbalanced and I added more stitching using metallic thread to the shapes inside the green form and quilted the lower background. I was becoming unhappy with the piece so I quickly finished it and pronounced it done.

After a lunch break, I looked at it and immediately realized what made me unhappy. The piece is an uncomfortable and awkward melange of my early style and my changing aesthetic. The underlying composition (minus the extra embellishments) reflects the direction I want to move toward, but the added metallic-thread stitching is a habitual return to my quilting past.

If I look back on the process, I remember feeling like I was going through the motions, not feeling very interested or involved in what I was doing as I was adding the extra stitching. And that is reflected in the uninspired quilting. I just wanted it to be done, but I wasn't able to discern what done meant. I didn't trust myself enough to create a spare piece with minimal stitching. The lack of trust meant I reached for things I was comfortable with--turning the shapes into a sun and using metallic threads for free-motion stitching.

My lesson here is that I reach for the familiar when I am feeling uncomfortable. Instead, I need to stay with the uncomfortable, rather than mindlessly reaching for habitual solutions. Discomfort is part of change and growth. And I need to allow myself the space to discover new methods and preferences, without continually referring to the past.

Perhaps I'll need to err on the side of underdone, rather than overdone, for a while. I can always take something off the wall and add more later. It's a lot easier than ripping.

Cat Blogging

2008-07-10T17:59:00.004-04:00

I'm not entirely sure that I can call myself a blogger. I mean, I just realized that I haven't posted any pictures of my cats. What self-respecting blogger neglects that?

So without further adieu, I present to you my delightful fuzz monsters, Max and Callie.

Now that I've fulfilled that requirement, will I get my Official Blogging License in the mail or do they email it out?

Adventure in the 'Burgh

2008-07-08T17:39:00.009-04:00

Yesterday, Kevin and I traveled to Pittsburgh for a little adventure. Our first stop, as it always is, was the Strip District, an old industrial neighborhood still home to produce wholesalers, as well as lots of specialty food markets, bars, and restaurants. To me, the Strip is Pittsburgh. A little gritty, reflecting the industrial past, but vibrant, as new ideas take root. It's always busy--everyone shops there, whether rich or poor, young or old. And where else can you find so much down-to-earth Pittsburgh charm?

Here we split a mung bean pancake from a streetcart vendor, stocked up on spices and herbs from Penzey's, bought rustic Italian bread from Jimmy and Nino Sunseri's, and filled two bags with salami, cheese, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Italian tuna in oil, and other delectable provisions from the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company.

As we were returning to our car, laden down with provisions, a sudden rainstorm hit and stopped everyone in their tracks. We sought shelter under an awning and waited for 15 minutes until the storm let up. While we waited, I snapped this shot of the Penn Mac building.

During the height of the storm, a few women decided to make a dash for it anyway. (I had set a long exposure time to capture the rain. I like how it blurs the women.)

Once the rain slowed, we ran to our car, but not before stopping at Mon Ami Chocolates to pick up some imported Cadbury Fruit and Nut Bars.

On the way back to the car, I took this picture, which shows the gritty, urban feel of the Strip.

From here, we headed to the South Side and drove down Carson Street. We stopped at Utrecht Art Supply, where I bought a pad of tissue paper, then wandered to South Side Works.

I saw a moth resting on a window outside Z Gallerie. I like how there are three layers to this photo: the moth, the reflected building and cars from across the street, and the accessorie window display.

Continuing with the reflections theme, I captured this bit of mural reflected in a mirrored window.

We drove through Squirrel Hill to Swissvale, where we picked up a case of our favorite beer: Fuller's London Pride. The brick streets of this historic neighborhood still survive.

We finished our day with a Middle Eastern feast at Ali Baba in Oakland. Hummus, fatoosh, sleek, mujaddara, and spinach pie filled us up and capped off a great Pittsburgh adventure.

Rainy Days and Sundays

2008-07-06T08:51:00.008-04:00

The rain showers and gray skies of the past week have encouraged a crop of mushrooms to sprout in my vegetable garden.

But with a little change of perspective, I can still find the sun.

Don't Leave Home Without It

2008-07-05T20:58:00.003-04:00

I have not fully adapted to the freedom that digital cameras offer. I've had a digital camera for a year now, but I still forget to use it or to bring it with me.

Having come of age when we actually put film--rather than brilliant little digital disks--in our cameras, I still feel that the act of pressing the shutter button is a moment of commitment. That's because I'm used to being parsimonious with my snapshots to save on film and developing costs. My mindset has not adapted to the digital age, where we can take pictures without remorse as long as we have room on our memory card.

But today I learned my lesson. My camera needs to travel with me always, whether I am going on an adventure or to the grocery store.

This afternoon, Kevin and I decided to travel to Lewisburg (a small college-town in Central Pennsylvania). We had no great plans: stop at the Bernina dealer, walk down Lewisburg's main street, and enjoy the drive.

We took Route 192 home and this is where we had our little adventure. First, we encountered R.B. Winter State Park. We had never been there before, despite having traveled 192 previously. But the view of the lake and dam caught our attention and we pulled over. We crossed a rock bridge into the park and found ourselves in a beautiful pine forest with exposed sandstone formations. The little section of park we explored was full of natural wonders and rife with potential quilt ideas.

If I had only brought my camera, I could show you what I saw.

Magisterial pine trees reaching skyward. Sandstone fragments covered with sea-green moss. Giant rhododendrons beginning to shed their blossoms. Soft beds of pine needles cradling fallen branches. A maze of delicate spiderwebs barely captured in the gentle forest light. Small slivers of silver minnows dashing to and fro in the shallows.

But alas, my camera was at home, so my words can only be a poor substitute.

We returned to the car and continued on our way.

As we passed a small farm, I caught a glimpse of a tiny calf being licked by momma. I told Kevin to turn around because it seemed like something was worth seeing again. And was it ever.

If I had my camera with me, I could share with you some precious pictures.

We sat in amazement as we watched mother and baby instinctively bond together. The little black-and-white calf was no more than a couple hours old. It was so new that some afterbirth still hung from the mother. Momma kept licking it rapturously. The little calf struggled to kneel on wobbly limbs, then tried to stand, only to fall back down as the new muscles struggled to work together. I've never been privileged to see an animal that was so new.

But again, my camera sat at home. So I can only share with you my words.

I've learned my lesson. Along with my purse, car keys, and cell phone, my digital camera (with charged batteries) is now an essential item for leaving the house.

I don't want to miss out on inspirational images for new art quilts. But more importantly, I never want to miss the chance to capture rare portraits of a new life coming into being.

Voice vs. Vision

2008-07-05T11:49:00.002-04:00

I'm in the process of writing a blog entry about what I've been working on over the past week while I've been off work. One thing I've noted is that I keep wanting to use the word voice rather than vision when describing my art.

I find that interesting. Here I am, creating visual pieces while trying to discover my inner artist. But when I describe what I am doing, voice is the default, even though I am thinking about what I am seeing.

For years, I have been a writer. I worked as a writer. I kept journals. I read and I wrote. Words were my currency for self-expression. I was a writer. (To a large extent, I still am.)

As I am starting to find different parts of myself in my quilt art, I am trying to think of myself as an artist. I try to see without words. I try to let my visions dance free from the confines of my vocabulary.

But it still seems that words are my default. I wonder if that will ever change.

It's OK if it doesn't. I feel comfortable with the words that have been with me for so long.

Perhaps it's the same with my art. Once I become comfortable with my visual voice, then maybe I'll find that it's been my vision all along.

Creative Play

2008-06-24T06:59:00.004-04:00

June has been an overloaded month. Professional commitments, following one after the other, have kept me hopping. The month is drawing to a close and I am exhausted. I have a few more days and then I have two blessed weeks off.

Knowing the craziness of my schedule, I have been practicing all the time management and healthy living skills I know. I've been eating well, exercising, scheduling some quiet time to laze about, asking for help, and temporarily dropping my standards. But on Sunday, I learned something new: that time for creative play--even in the midst of a hectic schedule--can provide an energy boost.

Sunday was a very scattered day. I slept in (until 10:00 a.m.!), ate, got dressed, and completed various chores. I planned my day around watching the Spain/Italy quarterfinal at 2:45 p.m. (Hey! No matter how busy I am, I must have my weekly footie allotment.) After extra time and penalty kicks, which Spain won (Viva Espana!), I headed back upstairs, feeling like a slug after having not really moved from the couch for the duration of the game.

I sat around in my sluggish state waiting for a late dinner because neither of us were hungry. Then I had a Thought! (Given my mental and physical exhaustion, having a Thought! was momentous.) Why not go play in my studio?

So I headed to my studio with the intent to play. That meant that projects currently in progress were verboten. I wasn't to finish anything or even start anything with an intention of finishing it. Instead, I was just to find simple pleasure in cutting up fabric and sewing it together.

I paged through books and riffled through my stash hoping to find something fun, easy, and inspirational. And then I found a bag containing my play project from a couple years ago. My plan was to make various freeform quilt parts and then figure out how they would go together. I didn't get very far before I packaged it up, but one thing I did have was a pile of precut fabric strips in copper and teal and plum and moss and taupes. I pulled out the strips and began sewing them together.

I sewed them together using varying seam allowances for a free-form look and created this little strip set before dinner. But, more importantly, as I went upstairs to chop veggies for salad, I felt more energized and excited than I had all day. (Well, not including the excitement I felt when Spain won!)

This was a revelation to me. Usually when I'm busy I don't make time to sew or play. My assumption is that my creative energy lies dormant during busy times. Instead, I learned that it is there, beneath the surface, ready to be tapped.

I have a few more busy days ahead of me. If I have time, I'll play a little more with this project. If not, that's okay too. But I'll try to remember during future busy stretches that creative play can be energizing, even when I think I'm too exhausted.

Permission to Laze About Granted

2008-06-19T09:58:00.002-04:00

I've taken this morning off because June's crazy schedule is beginning to wear on me. My upper back is tense, my nerves are a bit jangled, and my patience is wearing thin. This morning I told my cat to stop looking at me. So a morning off is welcome. And probably necessary.

My plan was to spend the morning puttering in my studio, maybe quilting or perhaps stitching a binding, and to also take care of a few home tasks, like menu planning and laundry. But here it is 10:00 a.m. and I am still sitting on the recliner with my laptop. Earlier I crawled back into bed and read a magazine cover-to-cover. The most ambitious thing I've done today is make oatmeal. Oh yeah, I ate it too.

So my plan to be productive in my studio and kitchen crashed up against the reality that I'm just too tired and need to sit. In the past, this would cause much angst and self-denigration. "Oh, I'm so lazy and I'll never accomplish anything. Blah blah blah."

But as I've sat today and quietly observed my thoughts and emotions, I realized that lazing about was exactly what I needed to do at this particular moment. Lazing about today doesn't mean that I will laze about tomorrow. It doesn't even mean I'm lazy. All it means is that I'm tired and need to sit right now.

So here I sit.

Listen

2008-06-15T07:59:00.004-04:00

Things happen in life that throw you off balance. And sometimes it takes longer to regain equilibrium than you imagined. This is a blog entry I've been meaning to write for a while, but I have been putting it off (which is ironic, given the point of the entry, as you'll soon read.)

In February, my mother called to tell me that my Aunt Linda recently discovered a lump in her breast and would need a biopsy. Almost immediately, a little voice in my head said, You should make her a quilt. We talked some more and I asked her to keep me informed.

Over the next month, that little voice regularly reminded me that You need to make Linda a quilt to let her know how much you care for her.

Linda's biopsy was scheduled for April 14th. The little voice in my head was insistent, You should make her a quilt and give it to her before her biopsy.

My mother scheduled a trip to visit us early in April. That was the extra encouragement I needed to finish it. Earlier I had decided that Linda would love a top I had that just needed quilting. It was bright and happy with lots of purple (her favorite color) and hand-appliqued stars. I had a piece of tie-dyed Minkee that would make a cozy backing. I added batting so it would be nice and warm.

Two days before my mother was to arrive I basted, quilted, and bound it. I sent it home with my mother packaged in a gift bag. The little voice in my head was happy and quiet.

My mother called me the next day to let me know Linda was touched and loved the quilt and that I would be hearing from her soon. A couple days later I talked with Linda for a bit. She was feeling fine and really appreciated the quilt.

Linda's biopsy was scheduled for April 14th. That evening, I called my mother to ask how it went. She said it went well and that they would get the results in a few days. I told her to let Linda know I was thinking of her.

On April 15th, I received a phone call from my mother. Linda had suffered a massive heart attack. She was only 55. She left behind two sons, Davy and Adam, and three grandchildren, Davy, Aria, and Josef.

On her bureau they found her last correspondence--an unmailed thank-you note for the quilt.

A Room of One's Own

2008-04-15T07:16:00.003-04:00

When Kevin and I were house hunting, we played a game. In each house we viewed, if we came upon a room we liked as an office or studio, we would claim it. "My room," one would call out and the other would have to keep looking. It was like playing Shotgun with real estate instead of the front seat of a car.

My criteria for choosing my room was simple: preferably it would have hard floors, plenty of storage space, and a source of natural light.

When we first toured the house that would become our home, I didn't claim my current studio, even though it met all my criteria. The people who lived here before us had a lot of stuff and that room was a maze of bookshelves aligned against the walls and dividing up the middle of the room. Because of that, it was hard to tell exactly what the room was like. Kevin claimed it.

When we moved in and were walking through our first house together, Kevin said to me, "I don't know why you didn't call this room. Why don't you use it as your sewing room?"

That was an incredibly generous offer from my husband and one I immediately agreed to. My studio is large (at least 14' x 20') with hard floors and sliding doors to the outside. There was plenty of space to set up a sewing table and a cutting table and a desk. I installed wire drawers in the cubby in the far end of the room to store my fabric. A six-foot high bookshelf and overstuffed chair for reading completed the space. It was comfortable and it was organized and I was very lucky to have it.

Fast forward five years. My quilting supplies and fabrics had overtaken all available space and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. I realized that I haven't been using the space as effectively as I could. I've been using this wonderful space as a glorified sewing room with lots of storage. I sew in there when I have a project to work on, but I haven't been using it as creative space to think and dream and imagine and create.

The change in my thinking started the day I brought my laptop into my studio. Normally, I keep my laptop on a corner of the dining table in the kitchen. On days I'm working in my studio, I am constantly running up and down stairs to check my email and take little internet breaks. But the day I brought my laptop in with me, I noticed an incredible increase in my productivity. I realized then that I didn't need an artificial barrier between my creative work and the rest of my life, but that I could incorporate everything to find better balance.

Decluttering has helped as well. Much of the stuff I owned was clogging my space and my creativity. It was hard to find the pearls among the swine, so to speak, when gorgeous batiks were mixed with threadbare yard-sale fabric. By ridding myself of the swine and keeping the pearls, I changed the creative energy I feel in my studio.

Furthermore, I only had one working space in my studio--the table that holds my sewing machine. Although, I have both a desk and a drawing table in there, both were unusable because they were covered with stuff. The drawing table was a staging area for my UFOs and the desk was a catch-all for everything else. I decided to clear off my drawing table and use it as a desk, drawing table, and place for handwork, such as beading. My desk became the UFO staging area. This works well for me because the drawing table looks out into the rest of the room, while the desk faces the wall. (I tend to be a bit claustrophobic, so prefer wide open views.)

Here you can see the view from my drawing table, with my sewing machine, television, and my reading chair in front of the sliders. It's a cozy space, not overly tidy, but comfortable and I am surrounded by my favorite things.

(I have to make a note about the television. The husband and I are big footie fans (that's soccer) so we have DirecTV. We only have one receiver hooked up to a television, so for the past year, I have only been able to watch DVDs in my studio. But just last week I realized that we can hook the DirecTV line into our cable system and I can watch TV in my studio. This is huge! On Sunday, I worked on a project all day while watching the afternoon's La Liga matches (that's Spanish football; aka soccer). The TV is showing the Almeria/Villareal match!)

Here's a view of my cutting table, my drawing table, and the desk behind, heaped with UFOs. I love the cheery colors of the silk rag rug, made from recycled saris.

And this is the storage part of my space. The wire drawers contain my stash, while the banker's boxes hold overflow fabric as well as lots of other treasures. My bookcase is close by for inspiration.

I really love my room now. It's more functional, neater, more organized, and suits my style of working. I can sew on something for a bit, then take a break and check my email, all while watching footie. What more could a girl want in a room of one's own?

A Stitch in Time

2008-04-12T06:37:00.006-04:00

My friend Cynthia's mother stopped by yesterday to show us her newest project: a queen-size, knitted coverlet using crochet thread on little, tiny knitting needles. I don't think I can properly express just how immense a project this is. It's 14 knitted panels with a dense diamond motif of 72 rows, repeated many times. I believe it will take 33 balls of crochet thread at 600 yards per ball. It's not a project for the squeamish or faint of heart.

And yet, there is something very appealing about working on a massive project like that.

I used to always long for the new. New projects, new experiences, new tastes. I wanted novelty. I wanted excitement. I wanted something different. I'd be working on one project while dreaming of the next. Heck, I'd even start thinking about dinner while I was still eating lunch. I was afraid that by focusing on one thing, I'd be missing out on all the other possibilities out there in the world.

What I didn't realize is that by focusing on the possibilities, I was missing out on the present moment. I was missing out on my very life.

Since I've begun practicing mindfulness, I rarely get bored. Not because I'm always doing new and exciting things, but because I try to pay attention what I am doing. When I pay attention, I discover that each moment is indeed new, even if I'm cleaning the bathroom for the 100th time or eating lentils and rice for the 4th time that week.

Last night, I started hand quilting a piece from seven years ago. I haven't hand quilted in over 6 years because it was slow and unproductive, compared to the efficiency of machine quilting. But this hand-pieced, hand-appliqued quilt was screaming at me that it needed to be hand quilted.

Quickly I rediscovered my rhythm and after an hour or so, my stitches regained their consistency. But more importantly, what I rediscovered was the simple pleasure, the mindful meditation of hand quilting.

In each moment of hand quilting, there is a little something to requires attention. The positioning of the needle for the first stitch. The sensation of the needle just beginning to prick your under finger. Shifting the thimble position and the quilt hump to bring the needle back to the top. Slightly pushing on the thimble to take another stitch. And another. And another. Concentrating while you pull the needle through. And then beginning again. And again. And beginning yet again.

My project is not that large, just a 54" square wallhanging, but there is something appealing in knowing that it is there. That every night or two, I can spend twenty minutes or an hour in quiet contemplation with my needle and thread, my thimble, and my quilt.

That's why I find Cynthia's mum's project appealing, rather than scary. It's there. It's constant. It's a ongoing reminder that you don't have to start something new each moment, but that instead, if you take the time to pay attention, each moment is, in and of itself, new.

Right Brain/Left Brain

2008-04-11T06:46:00.004-04:00

It's funny how sometimes you see something everywhere. Like when you buy a new car and you see other people driving it all over town. Previously, you never noticed that car, but once it is in your consciousness (and your garage) you become aware.

The same thing happens to me online. Over the past few days, I keep encountering articles and videos about right-brain/left-brain research.

(Briefly, the left hemisphere of the brain is responsible for verbal, logical, sequential, mathematical, and detail-oriented functions. The left-brain seeks structure, order, and patterns. The right hemisphere of the brain is associated with simultaneous, imagistic, holistic, and intutive functions. The right-brain seeks out symbols and images.)

I first encountered Dr. Anne Adams, a scientist suffering from frontotemporal dementia, which is a brain disorder that changes the balance of activity between the frontal and posterior brain areas, resulting in "torrents of creativity." In 1986, she quit her job as a scientist to begin painting full time. This radical shift in careers was due to the disorder, which, at the time was still undiagnosed.

What fascinated me about her work is that much of it has a patchwork, quilterly feel. Although her disorder affected the activity levels of the frontal and posterior areas of her brain, I believe her work shows a strong left-brain tendency. Many of her paintings display patterns and strong internal structure.

One of her pieces, Unraveling Bolero, is a bar by bar analysis of Ravel's Bolero, that uses color, shape, and scale to visually interpret the underlying structure and order in Bolero. Fascinatingly, Ravel and Dr. Adams were both in the early stages of symptoms of frontotemporal dementia when they composed their works--Ravel's Bolero and Dr. Adams' visual response to it.

My next encounter was a talk given by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor at TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design). Dr. Taylor is a neuroanatomist who was working at the Harvard Brain Bank when she suffered a stroke. Surgeons removed a golf ball size blood clot from her left hemisphere that was pressing upon the language centers of her brain.

Even as she was experiencing her stroke, she had the presence of mind to recognize the rich possibilities involved in a Harvard-trained brain scientist experiencing a stroke from the inside. Her talk is touching and funny and provides great insight into the different personalities, as she describes it, of the right and left hemispheres.

(I highly recommend watching this video. It is relatively long, clocking in at 18 minutes, but is worth it. I had encountered links to it before, but had never watched it because I don't have the patience to watch videos online. But after seeing it once, I want to watch it again.)

Finally, I encountered another blog post about the right/left brain phenomenon. Unfortunately, I can't find that link anymore, but I do have a link to something it linked to. (How's that for a confusing and ultimately uninformative reference?)

This article contains a dancing figure that is spinning. The direction of the spin is linked with your own brain's tendency toward right or left dominance. Go take a look at it and see which way it spins for you.

Most people are left-brained and they see the dancer spin counter-clockwise. Right-brained people see her spin clockwise. Supposedly, if you focus, you can get her to spin in the other direction, but I have never been able to do so.

I had read that article several months ago and she was spinning counter-clockwise. Try as I might, I couldn't get her to spin in the other direction. I wasn't surprised because throughout my life I know I have been strongly left-brain dominant. I was, however, a bit disappointed because I thought that my creative work might have shifted my dominance a bit.

It's funny how in my mind, at least, the right-brain is more attractive. I think it's because I am getting tired of the rule-based, factual, detail-oriented style I have used to control my life. Over the past year, I have begun to question my rules and assumptions about how to live.

Instead of rigidity, I am trying to be flexible. Instead of applying one-size fits all rules to everything, I look at each situation holistically and try to determine the best course of action. Instead of micro-planning each detail of my life, I have broad goals. Instead of controlling everything, I am just trying to be present in each moment.

Yesterday, I looked at the dancer again, and surprise, now she was spinning clockwise. And try as I might, I couldn't get her to spin in the other direction.

I'm of two minds about this. My left-brain is reading this as a finality and is screaming at me, saying "You're right brained now! You're right-brained now!" But my right-brain is saying, "Isn't that interesting? Your dominance changed over a couple months. I wonder if it will switch back. Probably. I bet it switches a lot more than you are even aware of."

I think I'll listen to my right-brain. Whatever my hemispheric dominance at the moment might be, I think I've found a set of guiding principles (rather than fact-based rules) for my life. Whether they are predominantly right or left brained doesn't matter. What matters is how I apply them in my life and whether they work or not.

(In a future entry, I'll write about my path as a quilter and how I think that relates to my hemispheric dominance.)

Less Stuff?

2008-04-09T05:31:00.001-04:00

A box full of silk flowers. Unfinished quilt blocks from a yard sale. Thirty-year old patchwork primers. Six yards of knit fabric in Wedgewood blue. A milk crate full of old quilting magazines. Ten yards of plastic pearls. A Hawaiian lei. Three heaping handfuls of black ribbon cut into 6-inch pieces. Roll after roll of wired ribbon. Two yards of gold pleather. A shopping bag full of curtain remnants. A grocery bag full of costume remnants.

Stuff.

Piles of it. Boxes full of it. Drawers overloaded with it. Floor space heaped with it. Shelves creaking with it.

Simply too much.

I am starting to realize that I don't solely own my things, but that they also own me too. While my things serve functions or provide me options, there are also energy costs associated with each thing I own.

For example, I own a bread machine. It takes up roughly 16" of counter space. It sits next to the stove, so periodically I have to wipe it down to remove spatters and oil. These are the energy costs associated with my bread machine.

But, I use it at least twice a week to make homemade bread, baguettes, coffee bread, and pizza. Eating homemade bread and feeling the satisfaction that comes with that enhances my life. On balance, the costs involved with owning and caring for my bread machine are outweighed by the benefits of eating fresh bread all week.

The same can't be said for everything.

In my large studio I have lots of stuff. It has expanded beyond my existing storage solutions. Working in there is difficult. It's hard to find things. To do anything, I have to move around piles and boxes.

As my aesthetic and artistic vision is changing, I've noticed that my relationship to the material objects I have collected for my work is also changing. My new work, come June, will be simpler, using combinations of fabric and stitch. I don't envision using many found objects or embellishments. Many of the boxes of things I have collected over the past years feel irrelevant to me. And yet, there they sit, cluttering up my work space and distracting me from the materials that are still relevant.

Walking into my studio doesn't leave me inspired. Instead, I just feel tired. The energy costs associated with the stuff I have collected for my creative work are huge.

I've talked about my stuff before, but in an uncritical way. Everything was clumped into one category of stuff whether it was ultimately useful or wasteful. But now, with a clearer vision of both the energy costs of owning things and the future path of my artistic pursuits, I can look at my things critically and assess their usefulness.

Yesterday, I began the difficult task of cleaning up. Four hours of work resulted in three trash bags ready for the garbage and several other bags ready to find new homes. I wasn't ruthless. Decluttering is a bit like pulling off a bandage. Sure, you can yank it off and suffer, but I find it easier and less painful to slowly encourage it off.

As useful as my work yesterday was, in no way do I assume that I am finished. There will be future decluttering sessions, for certain. But I'm going to be gentle about it. I'll live with what I've accomplished and note how my creative energy changes. Next time, after realizing how much better I feel unencumbered by clutter, I bet I'll be willing to part with things that were borderline today.

UFOs Again

2008-04-08T06:54:00.002-04:00

I had family in this weekend so had little time to blog or do any creative work. I've inspired my mother to learn how to sew, so we spent Sunday in my studio--she was working on pillowcases while I was finishing a set of Bargello placemats, which is a leftover UFO started as a class sample.

That got me to thinking about my UFOs, which are currently heaped on my drawing table. I've lost count, but I think that I've finished eleven projects since the New Year. This has been a slow and steady progress, teaching me a lot about patience, time management, as well as really increasing my free-motion quilting ability. But while I am making good progress, I know I have plenty more to go.

I just took a quick turn around my studio and counted the obvious UFOs. I came up with 14. This includes only traditional quilts and/or unfinished class projects. This does not include any unfinished art pieces, which I have put into a different category.

Fourteen is a lot. It's taken me three months to finish eleven pieces, and I picked a fair bit of low-hanging fruit from the pile. I am really trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but I am finding new creative energy and the desire to start something new with each UFO I finish. How do I manage the competing desires: completion of old projects and creation of new works?

When I made my resolutions in January, I wanted to finish one UFO a month while concurrently working on creating new art pieces. But the sense of satisfaction I got from finishing inspired me to keep plugging away on the UFOs. My single-minded focus has helped me progress quickly, and I'm glad for that, but it is time to reassess that decision.

Rather than continue finishing UFOs until none remain, which could take the rest of the year, I think I want to set a deadline. I'll continue my focused work on UFOs until a certain date, at which point I shift focus. With the seasonal shift from spring to summer, an anniversary to celebrate at the shop, and an annual trade show to attend, June feels like a natural transition to me.

What I envision now is taking my list of UFOs and prioritizing them. Then, over the next two months, I'll work my tail off trying to finish as many as possible. Whatever projects remain unfinished will sit for a while until I am established enough in my new work to not be distracted by them. Once June arrives, I'll transition by finishing my unfinished art pieces. By the middle of July I should be mentally and creatively ready to start new work.

Wisdom

2008-04-04T06:49:00.001-04:00

A friend recently sent me this excerpt from a Singer Sewing Manual from 1949. People on her discussion list were making fun of it, but she thought it was both sensible and wise. I agree.

"Prepare yourself mentally for sewing. Think about what you are going to do. Never
approach sewing with a sigh or lackadaisically. Good results are difficult when indifference predominates. Never try to sew with a sink full of dirty dishes or beds unmade. When there are urgent housekeeping chores, do these first so your mind is free to enjoy your sewing. When you sew, make yourself as attractive as possible. Put on a clean dress. Have your hair in order, powder and lipstick put on. If you are constantly fearful that a visitor will drop in or your husband will come home and you will not look neatly put together, you will not enjoy your sewing as you should."

It's easy to laugh at this dated advice directed to housewives vacuuming in heels and pearls. But, once you look past the writing style and 1950's imagery, there is a lot of wisdom contained in this little snippet.

We lead hectic lives, trying to balance competing needs and demands for our attention. We multi-task, attached to our cell phones and laptops, while we shop online, cook dinner, monitor the laundry, and greet our spouses. The idea of waiting to sew until our houses are clean and we are neatly dressed (with powder and lipstick, no less!) seems archaic and impossible.

But, I'm finding the basic principles in this advice to be true. I'm more productive in my studio when I am relaxed. And, for me, a relaxed mind comes from having a clutter-free and relatively clean home.

Fortunately, this is a fairly common experience. My husband and I have worked hard to downsize our belongings so that our house is fairly minimalist. And my weekly cleaning schedule means I don't have to think about whether to vacuum or clean the bathrooms. Like the old saying goes, "I vacuum my house once a week whether it needs it or not."

It's taken a fair bit of work to get to this point, but now it feels comfortable and natural. I enjoy the mental freedom that comes from having systems in place and from having created a home that works for us.

Full disclaimer: although my house is minimalist and clutter-free, my studio is most decidedly not. But, one of my resolutions for this year is to take these cleaning and decluttering systems and apply them to my studio. It's slowly happening. And I feel an increased level of creative energy and freedom with each layer of cluttered accretion I remove, even if I'm not wearing lipstick and heels.

If you are still working on decluttering and developing systems for your own home, check out Leo at Zen Habits' great post A Guide to Creating a Minimalist Home. I only discovered Zen Habits a couple months ago, but it has quickly become one of my favorite blogs. It's worth reading his archives.

Notes to Myself

2008-04-03T05:32:00.002-04:00

Max the Cat woke me at 5:00 AM, as he so often does. I sent him downstairs with his food bowl and returned to bed, fully intending to sleep for another hour or so. (I was up well past bedtime last night. Liverpool played yesterday, so I wanted to watch the game after a long day of work and teaching.) But, for whatever reason, instead of falling back to sleep, thoughts about quilts and classes and UFOs started drifting through my head.

I started a notebook the other day to track of "Notes to Myself." Little reminders of quilt and class ideas, book titles, blog article possibilities, and so on--those little thoughts I have throughout the day. The idea is to keep the notebook with me, so I can record the thoughts when I have them.

So now would be the time to grab my notebook and jot them down. But, I had left it jammed in a bag of quilts in my studio. So I rested in bed for another 15 minutes, decided it was hopeless, and got up. My house is chilly, so rather than run downstairs and find my notebook, I decided to curl up with my rag quilt on the recliner and record my ideas on my blog.

Screenprinting. Look into screenprinting on fabric to decide whether to take the class at Pro-Chem in Fall River, MA in August
Hand quilting. Learn how to hand quilt using my thumb. Ask on Quilt Art mailing list for book/video references.
Silk Dupioni. Ask on Quilt Art for guidance on working with Silk Dupioni. Look through Cynthia's silks to see if she has anything to expand my palette.
Drawing. Clear off drawing table in studio. Get light. Begin working through "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" in the morning. Ask Jen for any other drawing references.
UFOs. Make list of all UFOs and current status. Prioritize. Determine which ones I want to finish during the UFO rush, which I can finish over time, and which ones I can discard as unfinished.
Patterns. Make list of all patterns and current status. Prioritize.
Machine quilting designs. Start binder collection of FMQ designs.

Ah. That feels better. Perhaps I do have time to return to bed for a few more Zzzzzs after all.

'Night.

My Changing Aesthetic

2008-04-01T09:51:00.000-04:00

As I have been practicing mindfulness in my creative work, I have noticed a change in my aesthetic. I started quilting simply because I loved playing with color and shape. Even before I knew about quilting, one of my favorite things to do was to draw interconnected patterns with my crayons. So discovering quilting, which at its most basic is just playing with color and shape, was like finding a piece of myself and clicking it into place.

My early sampler and applique quilts were the result of lots of play--cutting out and auditioning fabric in different positions and combinations. I loved the challenge of combining different fabric colors and prints to create a beautiful and dynamic quilt.

My love of color transferred to embellishments--I discovered how threads, yarns, colored pencils, and beads add additional layers of depth and beauty to my work. Soon I began to look at the fabric as merely a base for further additions.

I started collecting boxes full of ribbons and yarns, chiffons and tulles, fleece and fibers. My stacks of embroidery and embellishing books soon towered over my quilting books. Heavy machine quilting and free-motion embroidery became essential elements of my quilts. I would stand in awe in front of the most heavily embellished pieces at quilt shows.

But in my practice of mindfulness I am finding less can truly be more. We are decluttering our home and lives to reflect a more thoughtful and simple lifestyle. And the quiet contemplation I am engaged in is now changing my creative work.

I find myself returning to my roots and simplifying. I'm less interested in commercially-printed fabrics and more interested in batiks and hand-dyed fabrics. (In fact, I am really interested in learning how to dye my own fabric.) While I still love machine quilting, I am becoming seduced by the idea of using hand quilting stitches to provide a "hands of the artist" touch to my work. And, at the Lancaster Quilt Show, I found myself standing in awe in front of simpler quilts using only fabric and stitch to create a composition.

I am comfortable enough with who I am as a quilt artist to recognize that my own aesthetic goes through stages. My changing preference is not a value judgment on the relative merits of different styles of quilting. But it's intriguing to me to see that the effects of practicing mindfulness and simplifying is not limited to my personal life, but that its changing my relationship to my creative work as well.

On Lessons Learned

2008-03-31T06:41:00.004-04:00

Lessons we learned as a child stay with us for years. Sometimes we learn them so well they affect our lives forever. This is a good thing with some lessons. My life is a lot safer because I know to look both ways before I cross the street. But some lessons hold us back without our even realizing it.

For example, here's "The Case of the Uncooked Bean." My husband and I love beans and eat them often. Part of my mindful living has been to cook with food as close to its natural state as possible. For beans, that means discarding canned beans and learning to cook dried beans. Google taught me that pressure cookers are the most efficient way of cooking them up.

We purchased a pressure cooker. I already had a bag of black beans in the pantry, so you would think it would be an easy thing to just cook them up one day. But I didn't. The pressure cooker sat in the pantry. And the beans sat in the pantry. And they never came together.

Several months passed and I began to wonder if I would ever use my pressure cooker. So, to force myself to do so, I did something sneaky. I waited until we ran out of canned beans and then planned a meal that required them. Last night, I was faced with having to use it. I took the shiny pan out of it's box and realized that I was horribly nervous. And that was the moment that I remembered the lesson I learned as a child.

My mother used a pressure cooker all the time to cook vegetables and potatoes. The one thing she impressed upon us kids was that pressure cookers were highly dangerous cooking implements likely to result in our disfigurement or even death were we to touch them. Now my mother is a sensible woman and this was good advice: kids should not use pressure cookers. I learned that lesson very well and never used the pressure cooker.

Fast-forward twenty-some odd years. I am thirty-six years old. I own a small business and a house. And I am standing in my kitchen, suspiciously looking at my pressure cooker as though it were a plutonium bomb. I remember my mother's admonitions and began to laugh.

Without my even knowing it, that little lesson I learned as a child held me back. It makes me wonder what other lessons learned are affecting my life even now.

And for the record, while the beans were overdone, no one was disfigured or killed during their cooking. I consider that an unqualified success.

Mindfulness and Quilt Shows

2008-03-30T10:05:00.001-04:00

I've alluded to the practice of mindfulness recently and have discussed how mindfulness has changed the very process of my art, providing me with more patience and productivity. My recent trip to the Lancaster's Quilter's Heritage Celebration shows how mindfulness is also changing my relationship both to my own work and to the greater community of quilters and artist I'm part of.

In the past, I've found quilt shows to be awe-inspiring and angst-inducing in equal measure. While I've always enjoyed looking at the quilts, I've never been able to just enjoy them. That harsh little inner critic was always making comparisons and judgments between my work and the works I was viewing.

I was insecure and trying to find my own vision and place in the art/quilt community. It was easiest to do so by defining myself in opposition to other quilters. I would look at a traditionally quilted piece and think, "I would never make a quilt like that." Or, look at technically perfect art quilt, "I could never make a quilt like that."

Even though I was looking at other people's visions, I made it all about me. What did I think about the piece? Could I make anything like it? Do I have the skills to complete a work like that? Do I have the patience to spend that much time on one piece? Would I ever enter a piece in a show?

Most times, I would walk out inspired and exhausted, dreaming of entering my own quilt in a year or two. But dreams they remained. I expended so much energy comparing myself to others that I had nothing left for myself. My motivation was winning a competition rather than sharing and expressing my vision. That is ultimately not inspiring because the thought of having to win leaves open the possibility of actually losing. And losing was too painful to contemplate.

At least that was my typical response to quilt show before I started practicing mindfulness. But I didn't even realize it until I attended QHC this past Friday.

Friday felt different. I enjoyed the show and each quilt on it's own merits. It wasn't about me, but about each quilter and the time and effort they put into expressing their own vision. I was able to appreciate each quilt for what it was, without judging or comparing. Wow, how did they come up with that idea? What a beautiful quilting design! That's a great combination of fabrics! What patience this quilter must have.

And as I looked at each quilt, I began to feel part of the community of all quilters, regardless of their level of proficiency or preferred style. People often say that they feel a connection to past generations of quilters when they quilt, but I never knew what they meant. But on Friday, I understood that all quilters, whatever our level of proficiency, preferred style, or personal vision, share something in common: to use fabric and thread to create something beautiful.

It wasn't about competition or comparison anymore. Instead, I felt a sense of community and connection. And, I began to hear my muse because her song wasn't drowned out by insecurities and judgments.

I am inspired now to enter a show. The work I have done this year shows me that I have the patience to complete a show-worthy quilt. And the increasing volume of my muse's song tells me I have the vision. I'm no longer concerned about winning or losing (or even whether my piece is actually accepted into the show), but rather I'm motivated by the thought of sharing my vision with the broader quilt community.

On Patience

2008-03-29T07:41:00.006-04:00

Patience is a virtue. And one that most people believe quilters possess in abundance. They ask, "How'd you find the patience to sew all these little pieces of fabric together?" To the uninitiated, we quilters are blessed with inordinate, almost saint-like, patience.

But this isn't true at all. I have been a terribly impatient quilter. Oh, not always. I began as a very patient quilter, realizing that quilting was about the journey, not the destination. That has changed over time.

While I began as a patient quilter, I have always been an inconsistent finisher. Teetering stacks of UFOs began covering my workspace from the moment I took my first quilting class. (To be charitable, maybe it's not so much inconsistent finishing as it is over-enthusiastic beginning. It's hard to resist new projects.)

But regardless, eventually those stacks of UFOs conquered me. I vowed not to begin any new projects unless I could finish them in a day or two. Quick and dirty became my motto and fusible web my new best friend. And so began my impatient quilting.

Patience may be a virtue, but impatience became my favorite vice. When faced with a rare, spare day off, I would race to my studio to start a teeny-little project that I would be sure to finish before the day was over. Improvisational and spontaneous designs became my forte, using raw-edge applique, free-motion embroidery and quilting, couching, and other embellishing techniques.

Because my free time was so sporadic, many times I would head to my studio and accomplish nothing. Knowing I only had four hours to start and finish a project, I put immense pressure on myself to perform. If I had no great ideas within the first hour or so, I'd feel frustrated, abandoned by my muse, and leave a messy studio strewn about with fabric.

These little projects were like potato chips: tasty and addictive, but ultimately neither nurturing nor satisfying. That's not to say I gained nothing from them--I'm still proud of many of the pieces and I learned a number of new techniques--but to make the next leap into quilt art, I would have to rediscover my patience.

Since the beginning of 2008, I have managed to do so, by returning to the basics. I have slowly, diligently, and most importantly, patiently attacked my pile of UFOs, completing 10 projects since January. Now I walk into my studio expecting not to finish a project, but to give it just a few more minutes or a couple more hours.

That's how large projects get done. Not by a whirlwind of frenetic activity until collapse, but by the steady accretion of progress over time. Paradoxically, it's only by slowing down that I have been able to get more done.

But more importantly, with every UFO I conquer, I begin to hear my muse a little louder. She's calling to me. Sometimes whispering. Sometimes singing. Each chorus I hear helps me see my vision a little bit clearly.

I'm going to keep chipping away at my UFOs. Even now I can hear her calling for me and oh, how tempting would it be to drop what I am doing and answer her siren song. But I trust the journey I am on now. Finishing old projects is like closing the door on my former impatient style and making room for a new deliberate, mindful, and patient method of work.

It's a journey of a thousand steps and I have only just begun.

On Deadlines

2008-03-27T11:04:00.001-04:00

I have a keen awareness of time. Given a task, I can accurately estimate how long it will take me to finish it. I know how long a certain dinner will take to cook, or how long I need to edit a newsletter, or how long to mulch a flower bed.

This ability has great benefits. I don't overschedule myself because I have a realistic understanding of my current time needs. I reject new commitments that would overwhelm me (or delete an existing commitment to make room for an exciting new one). I tend to finish tasks ahead of schedule, so I rarely feel the stress of working to a hard external deadline.

That's not to say that my life is deadline-free, however. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I set arbitrary deadlines for myself all the time. It's the key to how I manage my time. If a certain project will take 24 hours and has three component tasks, I set time goals for each task.

For example, yesterday I was piecing a quilt top. I completed the blocks and strip-pieced sashing and knew that I could finish piecing the top and adding borders before the end of the day. So that became my arbitrary deadline: to finish piecing the top, with borders, before bedtime.

I worked on it diligently and patiently for most of the day and was on schedule. But as time passed, I began to feel a little anxious. I began looking past my current work and ahead to the finish line.

While I was racing to finish, my husband arrived home from work and suggested a walk. As we walked and discussed our day, I realized how my day had changed from pleasurable-sewing-in-the-moment to anxious-racing-to-meet-the-deadline. And with that realization, I decided that I was done sewing for the day.

This is always the danger of my arbitrary deadlines--that I lose awareness of the moment and instead focus on the future. Over the past couple of years, I have been practicing mindfulness; that is, conscious awareness of the present moment.

Mindful awareness has made an enormous difference in my daily life.

I am calmer, more relaxed, and less prone to mood swings because I pay attention to little niggles of negative emotion and recognize that they are telling me that something is off-kilter and needs adjustment.

I get more done each day because I do things when I encounter them, rather than putting it aside for some future moment.

I have stronger relationships with family and friends because when I'm with them, I focus on them, rather than being distracted by my own worries or concerns.

I've even lost weight because I have learned to recognize the difference between physical hunger and psychological cravings.

And so yesterday, I found myself falling into old habits of working toward the deadline, rather than living in the moment. When I took a moment to pause, I remembered that I value the peace of mind from mindful living more than the thrill I get from beating a deadline. And so I choose to break that deadline and not return to that project after dinner.

It's a fine balance--learning how to stay in the moment while moving forward. But learning to say "Although the task may not be done, I am," is a small step along the way.

Doing Things is What I Like to Do

2008-03-19T06:45:00.003-04:00

I began the new year by resolving to finish one project a month. I thought that was a nice manageable goal. I am a good obsessive however, so rather than finishing just one project in one month, I have finished nine projects in three months. And I have no intention of stopping. I can see the bottom of my UFO pile and believe that I will conquer it sooner rather than later.

Turning raggedy UFOs into snuggable quilts feels great. But the lessons I am learning about myself and time are actually more important . Some lessons I've learned before but forgotten. Others are simple common sense that had eluded me. What I'm learning now from my newfound productivity is having a positive impact on the rest of my life.

Small moments of time add up. Take fifteen minutes here and twenty-five minutes there and soon you have real progress. Those little pockets of waiting that I usually cast away to the internet have become finished quilts.

Momentum overcomes inertia. Even when I feel like doing nothing, sometimes just a hint of action can beget more action. This is also known as the kitchen-timer trick in my household. So I choose a task (whether it be free-motion quilting a wallhanging or the more mundane chore of cleaning the kitchen), set the timer for a small amount of time (usually somewhere between six and fifteen minutes), and then work on that task until the timer beeps. Ninety percent of the time I find myself shutting off the timer and continuing work.

Reading is a time filler that doesn't always satisfy. This lesson is controversial, I know, but it was a big one to learn. Everyone knows that watching TV is a time filler. That doesn't mean that there isn't a place for TV in our lives, but that place may be smaller than we think. I've found that reading is much the same. Many books I read just for something to do. Now when I feel lost for something to do, I reach for a quilting project instead.

Quilting in the early morning is not a recipe for disaster. Almost every article I've ever read about time management has recommended getting up early and working on things before the day begins. I believed there was no way I could overcome my natural morning grogginess to piece precisely or quilt beautifully. But over the past year, for a variety of reasons, I have become a morning person, and have come to find that early-morning quilting feels luxuriously sinful. There's nothing like heading off to work knowing that I've already piecing 18 rag quilt blocks or sewed the borders on a new wallhanging.

Eating the same meal five times in a week won't kill us. This is a lesson that both my husband and I are learning. I love to cook. Beyond quilting and supporting Liverpool Football Club, cooking is my favorite hobby. I would happily try new recipes five nights a week. But, as much as I love cooking, it's not as big a priority as my quilting. So on Sunday, my husband makes a double-batch of something and we intersperse eating that with other meals. This week, he made lentil soup, and we'll have that for three dinners and two lunches. That leaves me with a lot more time for sewing.

I chose my resolutions for this year very carefully, making sure that they were manageable and concrete. Finishing one project a month was a reasonable and measurable goal. But the lessons I have learned from fulfilling just this one resolution have changed my life immeasurably.

Ah, look at the time! Time to get dressed and get an hour in before work. Ta!

It's getting late...

2008-01-07T22:51:00.001-05:00

and I should be heading to bed, but I'm being called equally by two things:

A bowl of Quaker Oatmeal Squares cereal, and
My blog.

So here I sit with a late-night snack (a salad for dinner, no matter how large, is never quite enough) and my thoughts. This will be a rambling entry that I may or may not decide to publish, but one week into the New Year I feel a need to assess how things have gone.

One thing I learned from watching other people work is that doing things is how you get things done. This is a shocking revelation, I know, but it hit me suddenly one day when I was teaching someone how to pin baste a quilt. It took all of 25 minutes to baste this quilt. Twenty-five minutes! That's all it took! Mindboggling!

This was unbelievable to me. To me, basting was a mind-numbing task that consumes hours upon hours of life. But I learned that basting a reasonable wallhanging can take just minutes. I had no idea.

(In my own defense, this belief stems from the very first quilt I basted. It was a queen-size quilt and I thread-basted it in preparation for hand quilting. It took me thirteen hours of non-stop work to finish. Thirteen hours! No wonder I avoided basting.)

So December was the month of basting. Through December and into January, I pin basted seven quilt tops for machine quilting. (I have another stack of quilt tops that need borders, but one thing at a time!)

So I have seven projects ready for me to quilt. Since the New Year, I have committed myself to working on something a little each day, even if it is just for twenty minutes. I am amazed at what I have accomplished so far.

I finished a rag quilt that I started over four years ago. I had 44 of 63 blocks done. It only took me a couple of evenings to finish the remaining blocks and then sew them together. One more evening was spent clipping seams. After washing, I gave it to my husband, but it seems that he will have to fight the cats for it. (Cats love rag quilts.)
I ditch-quilted a paper-pieced flag wallhanging that is over six years old. My next decision is whether to just bind it as is or add additional quilting. My vision for years has been to quilt a large, traditional American eagle across the entire quilt. But do I still care that much?
I am currently quilting a Yellow-Brick Road quilt. This quilt is only one year old! I'm probably half-way done with it. Can probably finish it by the weekend if I continue with a little progress each day.

So, seven days into 2008 and I feel a real sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. A little bit each day adds up to a lot over time. I will keep to my commitment to a little progress each day. I like that I am already seeing results.

Stuff

2007-12-31T07:51:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, in preparation for the new year, I returned to my sewing studio only to find a horrendous mess. I hadn't been in there since the snow-day-inspired basting extravaganza back in early December--an unexpected snow day led to my pin-basting five quilt tops--but had apparently decided to use the room as a dumping ground for anything remotely fiber-art related.

An enormous pile of sample quilts sat right inside the doorway on top of my crochet project bag. Piles of books and magazines spilled across the entry. Fabric scraps and thread snips littered the floor. An overflowing trash can tilted precariously against the table leg. Finally, I had cleared off my sewing and cutting tables for the basting bash so my workspace wasn't set up.

In short, it was a disaster.

I had two quilt tops left to baste so decided to finish that task first and then get down to the business of sorting through the mess. Later last night I set the timer for 30 minutes and started to work.

I rapidly came to the conclusion that I have too much stuff in there. The rest of my house is fairly minimalist. My husband and I decided a few years ago that it was better to have fewer beautiful things than lots of junk. So periodically, we go through closets and drawers to purge the extra junk that accumulates.

I have never done that in my studio.

This summer, I had a friend come to help organize my space. She had great ideas for rearranging my work environment. When I asked her to help me purge, she looked at me in horror and said, "No, no, no. I never get rid of anything. You never know when you will need it."

And that has been my perspective too. I accumulate stuff on the off-chance that I may need it some day. I have two large banker's boxes full of "found objects" for use in future projects, when I have never, ever, not once used a found object in my work. I have a stack of circa-1970's quilting books that my mom bought for me at a yard sale. I keep thinking that I will read through them one day and find lost patterns or techniques. Four more banker's boxes of ribbons, yarns, and trim are stacked high. And three more of fleece and felted wool. Not to mention my ridiculous fabric stash. And the ginormous box of pillow forms. Or the sloppy stacks of magazines. And the bags full of batting scraps. I could go on.

Looking at this stuff, thinking about this stuff doesn't inspire me anymore. It just makes me feel tired. It's blatantly obvious to me that my mental and creative energy is being blocked by this. But I am not sure how to proceed. I'm not sure how to discriminate between things that I may use some day and are worth keeping and junk that is just taking up space.

Time to set the time for another 30 minutes and see where that leads me.

A Return...

2007-12-29T09:49:00.000-05:00

I started this blog with the best of intentions, and then life happened. Well, really work happened, but in any case, hard deadlines for two major projects consumed all my creative energy (and then some) for the past two months. But through it all, I kept dreaming of the post-Christmas period when I could relax, regroup, and return to my creative process.

I never finished (heck, I never even really started) my journal quilt from November. But that was a conscious decision on my part. My life was so busy that I could only devote an afternoon to it. I did not want to rush through the process and compromise my vision. Now that my life has calmed down considerably, I am ready to return.

My focus for 2008 is three-fold.

Increase my understanding and use of basic design principles through reading and online classes.

Begin fresh with my Journal Quilts.

Finish one old project per month.

With this I have a good balance: I'll clean up old projects, improve my understanding of design principles, and then get the chance to apply them in a series of small Journal Quilts. I will look to assess and refine this focus as the year progresses.

I am excited to get back to work, so to speak.

A Visual Moment

2007-11-08T21:52:00.001-05:00

I'm not very good with computer hardware. I've never been able to install a printer on my first (or even second) try. Scanners fail regularly in my presence. And I've been known to have problems with jump drives.

So when my dear friend C encouraged me to get a digital camera, I was skeptical. I can deal with dropping rolls of film off at the grocery store, but hooking up a camera to a computer and then downloading pictures seemed nearly impossible.

But I bought a beautiful camera and took it on my trip to England. Taking pictures there went well and I was able to download them after a couple aborted attempts. But then fright took over. My camera went into my purse and rarely came out. I took the occasional picture, but never downloaded them. They simply sat, in some arcane computer language, stored in my camera.

C would ask how my camera was working and I would say fine. But I was lying. I was afraid of the foolish thing and rarely touched it. Finally, I admitted the truth and she offered to help me learn.

You know what I learned? That taking pictures and downloading them is pretty darn simple. I can't believe I was so scared. So I took a bunch of photos and began cropping and manipulating them. (Although I am a wimp about computer hardware, I have no such fears about software.)

Here is the first picture I cropped after downloading.

And here is the original.

The original picture was a pine cone in grass, pretty enough, but nothing special. But by cropping out a very small portion of the picture, I've come to appreciate the little details. Delicate cracks and tiny chips mark the scales. And the highlights on the edges of the scales are contrasted by the dark shadows inside.

Life is busy, and it's not often that I remember to truly look as the world flashes by. But my camera allows me to pause the world for a bit and really learn to see each visual moment.

In which Kimberly asks herself, "Where is the Art?"

2007-11-06T12:36:00.000-05:00

Four days into my fiber art blog and there is nary a shred of art to be found. I made that observation when I sat to post tonight (in keeping with NaBloPoMo). And that observation led me to a realization about myself.

I am first and foremost a writer. As much as I love visuals, words are my preferred method of self-expression. When I sit to journal, words pour out freely while I have to remind myself to sketch and draw. When I read blogs that also have photos, I read the words first and then remind myself to study the photos. When I chose my words for the journal challenge yesterday, my first instinct was to write down my reactions rather than sketch out my ideas.

Words have been my friends for years. I was an insatiable reader as a child. My poor mother trolled garage sales and thrift stores to keep me in books. (Even as I child I hated the library. Returning books that had entered my life seemed like a betrayal.) I liked to draw and color, but I loved to read and write.

It's harder for me to express myself through art than words. My visual vocabulary is vastly smaller than my verbal. I have no formal training as an artist, while I was a professional writer for years.

Words have always been my default. But surprisingly enough, art has become my passion.

I am drawn to art. To look, rather than hear. I feel art rather than think it. I create art from emotion rather than reason. I weep with sheer joy in front of paintings and sculptures. Art connects me with the universal while words too often tie me to the specific. Art silences my mind and touches me on a deeper level.

I may have a long-standing preference for the verbal, but I've found that the beauty of art lies in its ability to speak to my heart without any words at all.

Cosmos Key

2007-11-06T10:50:00.000-05:00

Today was Tuesday, which is Choose-Day for the journal quilt challenge. I awoke early, wanting to answer emails, run, shower, dress, and breakfast before choosing my words.

Was I procrastinating? Perhaps, because I must admit to feeling slight trepidation as I reached in to select my first word. Why was I nervous? It's the beginning of a year long commitment and I was a little afraid of too difficult a juxtaposition. But I got over myself and grabbed my box of words.

I slid the little slips of paper around and around in my fingers, as though waiting for a shock to tell me, "This is your word." Finally I stopped waiting and just pulled one out. Cosmos, it read.

"How cool," I thought, recalling glorious images of galaxies and star clusters from the Hubble Telescope.

So I reached in again and shuffled the slips around. Key, read the second.

"Not another noun! I don't want to waste my nouns," was my initial (and honest) reaction.

Cosmos. Key. Two beautiful words on their own.

Cosmos: universe, the idea of the infinite, of space and time, of alternate worlds and possible galaxies.

Key: unlocking, answers to mysteries, solutions to riddles, doors and pathways.

Together they can ask a question, "What is the Key to the Cosmos?"

And to that I say, "Good Grief! When I first committed to this journal quilt challenge, I never imagined that my first challenge would be to unlock the mystery of the universe."

My first thoughts of Keys and Cosmos were literal and pictorial. Images of golden keys were superimposed on cosmic clouds. Doorways and portals were interspersed among heavenly bodies. But then I thought, even if my words were nouns, my quilt didn't need to be. So I started thinking deeper.

As I began thinking about Keys and Cosmos, my mind began wandering. I started thinking about Eastern Philosophies, about mindful awareness, and about the use of negative space in Asian Art. I thought about how the quality of the life you live isn't always about those big and special moments, but about how you live those moments in-between. And then I began thinking about space, and how it is so vast and empty. The stars in those glorious clusters captured by the Hubble telescope are light-years apart.

Maybe the key to the cosmos isn't to be found in what is. Maybe it's found in the space in-between, in what is not.

Serendipitous Juxtaposition

2007-11-05T06:18:00.000-05:00

How's that for a mouthful? Serendipity and Juxtaposition are two of my favorite words, both in being fun to say and for their meaning. I love the idea of Serendipity, of making fortuitous discoveries by accident. My discovery of my love of quilting is one such moment of serendipity. And Juxtaposition, in addition to being just plain fun to say, holds promise in the act of putting two things side-by-side for contrast.

Last night, as I was lying in bed, words began flashing through my head. These words were rich with promise and resonated with me on a personal level. I had the presence of mind to grab my notebook and pen to record them. Here is the list, in the order that they came to me last night:

fascination
loneliness
mystery
hidden
shattered
cosmos
intensity
splotch
pistachio
linen
momentary
forgotten
hope
London
faded
fragment
symbolic
family
home
forgiveness
flames
sprout
lace
redemption
awe
key
layers
cathedral
reservoir

Twenty-nine beautiful words--each highly charged with personal meaning. As I lay in bed, contemplating the many and varied ideas for each word, I realized that two words together were even more evocative than one alone. Just on the basis of list position alone,

faded London
momentary linen
pistachio splotch
shattered cosmos

were the initial pairings that jumped out at me. Each one sent my mind spinning with possibilities for design. The combination of two words can be more evocative than a single word alone. It's in the interplay of meanings--how one word complements or changes another--that the magic happens.

Rather than use just a single word for inspiration, Serendipitous Juxtaposition, that is, fortuitous discoveries from the accidental comparison of two words, will be the underlying theme for my year of journal quilts.

So each month, on my Choose-Day, I will draw two of these words from a little box (serendipity in action) and use the juxtaposition of words as my inspiration.

My commitment for today (seeing as Choose-Day is tomorrow) will be to type up these words, cut them into little strips, and find a little box to keep them in. I will also find a little journal that I can use to journal my year of journal quilts.

How's that for an iterative process? Keeping a journal about keeping a journal! But in this case, it seems the right idea to record my thoughts as I create each journal quilt.

I'm so excited. This is going to be good.

Journal Challenge

2007-11-04T22:53:00.001-05:00

When I joined the Quilt Art mailing list, one of the promises that I made to myself was that I would jump on any challenges that crossed my path. Public commitments, such as joining a challenge, work well as motivation for me.

So, when cat in tassie posted about her journal quilt challenge, I decided to jump and play along. I have been thinking about journal quilting for a long time, but have never committed to action. Now I do so.

I, Kimberly, being of sound mind and body, do hereby commit forthwith to participate in a monthly journal quilt challenge. Henceforth, each month I shall choose a topic and then create a journal quilt for that topic. The only restriction that shall be that the quilt be no larger than 10" x 13" (how's that for an arbitrary size pulled out of my arse?) and that I must consider it finished by 11:59 PM on the last day of each successive month. And by finished, I mean complete, NOT perfect. Any technique is allowed and new techniques are hereby encouraged.
Signed, Kimberly

Commitment publicly signed and sealed. Yay me!

My first task tomorrow will be to come up with a list of topics. Since a year is 12 months, that means 12 topics. However, to really challenge myself, I will come up with 20 topics: 12 that I really want to create and 8 that are offbeat challenges.

Tomorrow, after Pilates, I will create my list. I guess, in a way, that is a second public commitment.

Hey, two posts in one day! This blogging thing is a lark. (Says the woman with two abandoned blogs lying dormant in cyberspace.)

First Post!

2007-11-04T21:52:00.000-05:00

Ok, ok, ok. This is for real now. I have started and abandoned two different fiber blogs. These are so abandoned that I can't even remember how to log in to post on them. They are out there, somewhere, in a state of suspended animation. Nothing more lonely than a forgotten blog.

Starting this blog feels different. My previous blogs were a lonely cry in the darkness, "Anyone out there?" And I posted once, twice, three times into the ether. Nothing. No one. People may have been out there, but they weren't stumbling onto my blog. So I forgot about my blogs and moved on.

But, just this past week, I joined the Quilt Art mailing list and have already begun interacting with other people who are creating art quilts. There is a community out there and from what I have seen it is welcoming and friendly. I am excited. I won't necessarily be shouting into the ether.

November is NaBloPoMo, which is kind of the blogging and easier version of NaNoWriMo. The idea is to post something on your blog for everyday in November. Well, I've missed a few, but I don't think that matters so much.

They say it takes 30 days to create a habit. Posting everyday for the rest of November should make this blog a habit. And should you find it lying abandonded sometime in the future, please feel free to comment and poke me back into action!