THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 1, 1995 TAG: 9412290037
SECTION: HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: YOUR TURN
SOURCE: BY CYNTHIA GOWIN, SPECIAL TO HRW
LENGTH: Medium: 78 lines
I HAVE BEEN CONDUCTING a little experiment over the past two years. In the past when I would tell people I made quilts, they would inevitably tell me that their grandmother used to do that. Their reaction made me feel as if I should be wearing a prairie dress and toting a spinning wheel. For many, the current notion is that the quilt is art, not always meant to be a bedcover. They come in all shapes, sizes and styles. They can be as traditional as ``Grandmother's Flower Garden,'' a popular 1930s pattern, or as mind-boggling as any 3-D graphics.
I began to tell people that I am a textile artist, a title many quiltmakers use. This response seemed to make what I do sound more modern, more interesting, and invited questions that allowed me to share my enthusiasm. I still use the title, and on days when I am particularly frustrated with the progress of a piece, it makes me feel that every cut or stitch is a means to an end.
All quiltmakers find their motivation in different places. Some are making a gift that must be finished by a special date. This one may have a deadline to meet for a show entry. That one may just simply enjoy the process and have a vague idea that she wants to finish in six months, or a year. Some, myself included, may seem to have no motivation at all - take a stitch, put it up, start something new, drag it out again. Some won't let themselves start anything new until their current quilt is bound and labeled. One quilter I know has had a piece lying around for months lacking nothing but a few inches of binding and a sleeve. She's not ready to let it go.
Sometimes in our hectic lives it is nice to be in control of something, and making a quilt puts us in charge. It starts with the first vision of a color scheme or pattern, and whether it creeps or snowballs from there is our choice. There are a lot of important decisions to make if the finished project is to satisfy us. Do we work by hand or machine? Do we want to reach to the future or the past with our design? How will the sashes run, and what type of border will frame it nicely? Why am I making this one?
The answer to the last question is often different for every quilt made. I have made wall quilts to accent my home. I made one because someone I admire made a model to hang in a shop and I wanted one for myself. I made some to try out new techniques. I have one that I made for my brother. I created a miniature room and included elements that represented his interests. This one hangs in my kitchen because it hurt my feelings that he didn't see I was trying to bridge a gap and thought of him with every stitch. My most special one was made for my mother when she learned she had cancer. I don't know who needed it more, but we were both very proud of it. The last one I started when I was thinking of her is very dark and confused and may never be finished.
We all need a catharsis to take us away from things we need to be rid of for a while. Working with fabric does this for me and gives me control over one small part of my day. The challenge of making a familiar pattern seem fresh can nurture and inspire our creative nature.
It's funny how you could give five quilters the same project to complete and none would measure up exactly the same in the end. If told to use a particular batch of fabrics, each would put the elements together in an all new way. If allowed to select their own fabric, some of the work may not even appear to be the same pattern because of individual taste in style and design. We all grow when we have something to do that we enjoy. When we give ourselves permission to play, our creativity can surprise us.
A project or hobby can keep us busy in those dark hours when we mourn. It can occupy us in those dark hours of the night when we can't sleep. One woman I know does all her quilting at night and sleeps until noon. A former insomniac is now a talented artist.
On second thought, go ahead and compare me to prairie women. They sewed by whatever light they had at the end of the day and used the only cloth they had to express themselves in damn near the only way they were able. I don't care if you think I'm old-fashioned like your grandmother. That worn, stained baby quilt you still have was made just for you, and love was sewn into every stitch. Go and get it out. Feel the texture that her loving stitches created on its surface. Wrap it around you and feel her arms as they grew heavy from her work. Dream of the one you might make one day. by CNB