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About the Art of Quilting |
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I am always impressed that some quilters are able to talk about their work as an art form with some kind of overall
development plan and pedagogical coherence. Because I belong to the "shoot first, ask questions later" school of
quilting, my quilting style has simply evolved from some organic fabric-based primordial soup to whatever curved
tessellating freeform flight of fancy appears on my design wall.
As an artist, my tolerance
for the elements of my art has changed over time. My first quilts were fairly conservative creations. But over time,
my fabrics have gotten louder and bolder and, well, sometimes just plain weird. And my piecings have gotten curved. |
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My first quilt was a pastel-based pink blue green confection of fabric scraps. Light, fluffy, non-committal and
seat of the pants construction, born from a stubborn and arrogant belief that if my ancestors could quilt without
taking any classes, so could I. |
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Well, I did and the results, although perfectly serviceable, are a poor example of
both artistry and craftsmanship. But then again, historically, most quilts were made to be used, not shown, and by
this yardstick, my first quilt was a success. We still use it on our guest bed, mostly to keep me humble, and frankly,
I don’t much mind if the cat drools on it.
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As for construction, I am still amazed at the courses I see advertised at shows and stores, classes in how to put
together patterns. Perhaps because my Connecticut Yankee grandfather believed in figuring it out for himself and
proceeded to instill this modus operandi in his children (including my mother), I was raised that you only ask
questions when you run into trouble. Perhaps my ability to look at most quilts and know instantly how they are
constructed is actually a genetic disposition from my maternal ancestors, or the fact that I taught myself how
to read blueprints as a 5-year-old who loved Better Homes & Gardens magazine. Or maybe it is simply my bull-headedness.
Regardless, the only quilt classes I have taken were taken when I was in trouble: Machine Quilting - when my
stitches were too long and my lines not smooth, Landscape Quilting - when I needed a block
of uninterrupted time, and Freeform Piecing - when I really needed some inspiration. In each instance, I got the point rather early in the class, and spent the rest of the
allotted time practicing on my own. I should note here that practicing quilting techniques is infinitely more
rewarding that practicing the violin ever was: you can actually see your progress - it’s tangible, and it doesn’t
backslide overnight, leaving you exactly where you started the day before.
And so this has been my work process - to jump in and work, asking for help or researching options only when I
was stuck - a methodology so unlike my violin teaching, or my corporate consulting as to be worthy of discussion.
This is absolutely antithetical to my teaching methodology, and to the way I prepared kids for violin technique.
There, I prepared them, in some cases, years ahead of time, for what was to come. We would, for example, start
vibrato exercises way in advance and by the time we were ready to use it, it was already there. |
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My quilting methods are nowhere near this thought out, but for me, that’s part of the creative process.
When the structure of the methodology is too strict, then the work is easy but the latitude for innovation
is narrow. |
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The most frequent comments I hear about my quilts have to do with how I combine fabric. My mother agonizes over
these decisions, and I guess a lot of other people do too. Not me. It either works or it doesn’t, and usually I
know right away whether or not to use a particular fabric. What I’ve discovered lately is that the more complexity
in the colors (depth, tones, shades, undertones, distance from primary on the color wheel), the better I like it,
and the richer the colors.
I know there are courses on color theory that explore these phenomena, but I haven’t
taken any, so if there are color rules (like that stupid one about “blue and green should not be seen” which is
one of the most inane quotes I’ve ever heard. Whoever coined that must have lived on a planet with no water or
vegetation, but I digress), I don’t know about them. And since my father refers to me by my descriptive Native
American name, “Runs-With-Scissors” I figure why, at my age, start to follow rules?
So, thanks for visiting. I hope you've found something interesting about the art of quilting. Enjoy, tell
your friends, visit often, and email me with questions and comments, and please keep in mind that everything
on this site is protected by copyright. Thanks! | |
