Tag Archives: moon

what was done is not done

One of the (many) glories of having lost my job (three weeks ago now?) is having the time to work, re-work, and then work some more, on a quilt.

My wise friend KR notes, “You ALWAYS go through a phase where you hate what you’re working on!”

She’s generally correct. That phase has resulted in experimentation galore, often of the chop/chop/chop and re-arrange/re-arrange/re-arrange variation.

This week’s lesson was all about not being finished. Areas and moments of dissatisfaction were met with little grunts of “not done” from me. While I do not need to consider this ‘progress’ from some of the more dramatic creative cycles I’ve been through, it is noticeably DIFFERENT.

So, in preparation of this upcoming Long Island show that my wonderful cousin Ginny Mallon is curating, I pull out the large quilt made after the Indonesian Tsunami – a quilt I have YET to like – and one of the only Katrina quilts that I have not yet sold (BECAUSE IT ISN’T FINISHED!!). Today, with the quiet fall rain pattering the leaves outside, I am finishing these quilts.

Yes, there is a theme here.

(You can visit my cousin and view her beautiful photographs here: Life in Crab Meadow – the link is always handy on my sidebar).

PS — Two Practice Notes

One — Viewing portions of a quilt on the screen often highlights flaws – AREAS not YET DONE – in a way that is expedient. For instance, looking at the section above, it is obvious that the blue swirly night sky needs to be tacked down some more.

Two – This metallic stippling thread was loaded into the bobbin to avoid the frequent breaks that probably would result if it were the top thread. I had already stitched the circle around the moon, and placed pins along the edge of the speckled polyester so that I would know where to stitch (since to have the bobbin thread on the top of the quilt, obviously one must be working on the backside of the quilt).

Finishing small things

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Here is the word added to the small Journal Quilt. I think of ‘freedom’ as something robust and tawny (who knows why), and yet here it is in a whispery pink. . . freedom as something subtle and fragile.

This is the finished piece.

The moon gave me a few problems. The chenille vine upholstery fabric was thick, and seamed, even thicker. Next time, lay flat and don’t seam? In any case, to cover the bump, I added lace. And, to balance things out a little, I tore some of the blue netting.

The lower lunar section reveals an inkjet fabric print of an antique map of the constellations.

“Free” has been on my mind in the wake of handling all of my free fabrics. “Free” is on my mind thinking about what holds me back. Something about spring sets a little piece of me free. So grateful.

Back to it

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Finally put the taxes, a commission, a benefits process, and a series of gardening consultations behind me long enough to work on some quilts that have been languishing.

This little piece came from one of my ** New ** works-in-progress drawers and was constructed last spring, back when I was still making journal quilts.

The vertical edges needed bound, and I so wanted the blue and white swirly because of the way it picked up the floral motif and the black and white near the hut, but it was way, way, too much.

Or, maybe it wasn’t too much, but it was a different quilt in the making and I wanted to finish this one in the mood in which it began.

So I went with the soft green.

After binding it, I fiddled with the moon some more, added a word, and quilted here and there. I’ll show you tomorrow. The quilt reminds me of how fertile the journal-quilting-process was. I think I’ll begin again. Last year, I made a quilt-a-week (small, unbound) from January to about June, I think.

It rained again. Day was full, satisfying.

Cultivating Curiosity

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Curiosity
14th century 1 : desire to know: a : inquisitive interest in others’ concerns b : interest leading to inquiry <intellectual curiosity

After the post about feeling like a jerk for being unorganized, I have decided to offer myself at least as much “inquisitive interest” in how I perform day-to-day as I would offer a work-in-progress.

In quilting, I really have learned to look at pieces with a certain amount of curiosity and detachment, because I understand that my subjective stance, at any given moment, might undergo radical revision as I move along. Further, I recognize that detached curiosity can be key to discovering HOW to move forward — in quilting.

And, more along these lines, why is it that I can offer another blogger (with children, lamenting the interruptions), the sage advice that ‘interruptions add up to a life’, while feeling desperate in my neck of the woods, as my time gets meted out in one caretaking task after another?!

Carolyn Myss says ‘there are no unimportant jobs’. If, for even a fraction of a day, I can act as if there are no unimportant jobs, will I feel more freedom? You can sense what my answer would be here …

A Sufi I had the privilege of spending a summer with at a camp north of here, put it this way (we were cleaning the camp’s bathrooms at the time): “You can find God cleaning the toilets.” I don’t think I understood this at 17. Or, even, why one might want to believe it.

So, forget my little post about being a jerk. Doing the best I can here. Might even learn to trust some of my hesitations. Readers’ comments about the two-sided nature of selling through stores helped pop this into focus for me — thank you all.

I kept seeing the ecru silk in the little abstract (former angel) quilt as a snowy hillside. It wasn’t long before the upright rectangle in the foreground was begging for a roof. The moon uses a piece of organza on which I had printed a picture of the World Trade Towers — a photo snapped in the brief expanse of time between impact and falling. Smoke was pouring out of the upper stories, as we all remember. As surely, none of us can forget.

Although this detail is nothing a viewer would be able to know without my telling them, I am telling YOU, dear reader, and so now I can further suggest, that this piece assumes its humble and obscure place in a chain of works about memory. The little house here is tippy, but secure. It will hold. It has survived the winter. The shadow of events from 9/11/2001, are THERE, but barely recognizable — a mere cast of grey on the edge of the moon. We get through.

And, boy oh boy, is spring around the corner. Perhaps that is all I needed to write this morning!

Pattern and Outrage : Dee Mallon

cloth, justice, writing, and food

Tag Archives: moon

what was done is not done

Finishing small things

Back to it

Cultivating Curiosity

Longer Nights