Stages Seven-Nine

I'm squeezing the final steps together here, because they take so much less time! They really are the finishing stages for a quilt project.

Binding
Sometimes I love binding. Sometimes I’m just okay with it. It is the final, crucial step for quilting, which is satisfying. Sometimes, if I’m stuck in impatience, I just want it done already.
I got smart with the most recent quilt I made—I made my binding before I did the quilting, so it was ready to go, which seemed faster, even though it wasn’t.

I better back up. You can buy bindings for quilts, which I have done, or you can make binding. I prefer making binding, generally using fabric that I’ve used for the quilt itself. You can do single or double/French binding. The main book I use (Quilters’ Complete Guide, by Marianne Fons and Liz Porter) has great instructions for how to make bias binding, and I always use them. It involves cutting a square of fabric, cutting it into two triangles, sewing the triangles together a certain way, drawing lines, sewing the triangles together another way, to make a tube, then cutting a continuous line and voila, you have binding, a long strip of fabric.
I’d explain better, but honestly, it’s like magic. I usually make extra binding, just in case. I also usually make French binding, because it’s more durable. This means ironing the fabric strip on a center fold to make it double thick.
At this point, I will have decided whether I’m doing a straight edge or a scalloped edge, if I’m doing piping, and any other such bits. For a standard French binding, you just place the rough edges on the quilt top’s edge and stitch, through all thicknesses, all around the quilt, breaking at corners and…well, doing something else magical that works when you fold it to the back to make a corner (you stop stitching ¼ inch from the edge, turn the quilt, fold the binding back on a diagonal, perpendicular to the previous side, and fold it back down, again aligning the rough edges with the quilt top edge. See? Hard to explain.). When you get back to start, you have a few options for making a finished seam, usually folding back the first end a bit, and continuing to stitch the new end for a few inches over the first part.
Then, you trim the edges of the quilt, all the extra backing and batting. You then fold over the binding to the back and, if you have French binding, you have a nice, smooth folded edge to slipstitch into place.

I know, I know—probably most of what I just said makes no sense. It’s hard to describe without pictures. Fons and Porter do an awesome job, so I really recommend their book if you have any interest in quilting.
The quilt is officially bound. This is when I usually remove all the basting and any stray threads, really examining to make sure everything is right.
I’ve done a few special bindings in the past. With my nephew, I worked it so the binding matches the fabric of the quilt parts next to it. I did some piping on my niece’s quilt, and scalloping for a couple of friends (as demonstrated at right, just before turning the binding to the back.) But just simple cotton is fine, too, and helps solidify any color message you want to send.

Best part: The quilt is DONE!
Worst part: Sewing up the bit where the two ends join. I always have problems making that smooth and not too bulky.

Cleaning
I always have baby quilts dry cleaned before presentation. It is not something one would normally do with a quilt—in fact, washing quilts is seldom done for heirloom pieces. But after I’ve worked on a piece, especially in summer, I feel better getting any of my hand oils and dust from the floor off it.
I only twice had problems post-cleaning. One quilt pilled a bit at the dry cleaner. I no longer use that fabric. Another time the quilt came out with brown spots on it. The cleaners sent it elsewhere for a different treatment, and that took care of the vast majority of the problem.
Sometimes before and sometimes after cleaning, I will photograph the quilt for my records.
My usual photography spot now is hanging from two clip-style hangers, on my front door. The space is just big enough to get it all in, and the lighting is the best in the house.

Best part: Relinquishing the quilt—it’s out of my sight for a few days.
Worst part: Relinquishing the quilt—fearing that it will somehow get destroyed!

Presentation
Obviously, the quilt presentation is a time of joy. I always get excited about “handing it over.” I joke about the “secret” gift, but no matter how well known it is that I’m making a quilt for somebody, the final product is always a surprise. I can’t think of a time that anyone other than my parents saw a full quilt design before it was made.
My favorite reaction is my sister’s to my nephew’s quilt. She nearly cried, and instantly wanted to photograph it. Since that is also my favorite of all the ones I’ve done, and because she is a craft goddess in her own right, that was particularly rewarding.
I’m not very good at accepting compliments, or accolades, but I do like to deliver the quilts in person. It is as much about delivering love as delivering a loved object. And I always get to hold the baby.

And that's it! That's how I make a quilt...at least, usually. I always try to do something a little different so that I'm always learning and solving new problems. Just last night, for instance, things came together for my next project, after a bit of a struggle, and I'll be using new technqiues, including hand embroidery and more pronounced sashing. And, it's black and cream. It's great when everything seems to come together all at once--that's the point at which I know I'm doing the right thing and I'm ready to move forward!

Stage Six: Quilting

This part is, admittedly, the more mystical part of the whole quilting process. I didn’t know how it was done until I read a book or two. And, as a further admission, this is the part with which I’m the least patient. I always do less quilting than someone with more talent would do.
You can quilt by hand or by machine. My first quilt was done by both, with pictures quilted by hand in a hoop and letters quilted by machine. I am not very good with hand quilting—it takes a lot of dexterity, patience, and the ability to use a thimble to make stitches small and even. I enjoyed learning how to do it, but it was time-consuming and not, anyway, the best choice for a baby quilt that I’d like to be used.
It took me a while to figure out how to quilt by machine, too. My mother’s machine is actually better at it than mine, though I’ve gotten my machine’s quirks mostly figured out. Here is the process:
step one: backing. I cut a backing piece to a few inches longer/wider than my quilt top borders, and iron it as smooth as possible. This gets laid, right side down, on one of the cutting mats. I favor just regular quilting cotton for my backing, but I sometimes do a medallion backing—one print or color with a larger patchworked piece in the middle. I also have done stripes and squares for the back. That way, the piece is reversible. I sometimes kick myself for buying large pieces of fabric that I don’t have a plan for, but I can’t tell you how many times that’s come in handy for the backing!
step two: batting. The batting gets cut to the same size as the top, and gets placed over the backing piece, gently, and smoothed as much as possible. It helps to fold it and center it that way. I also usually pull back the batting and backing together, as if they were one piece, and smooth that out before smoothing it back down. This helps the batting and backing kind of stay together.
I favor Mountain Mist’s Cream Rose batting—it took me a while to come to this, but it’s great. It’s easily needled, warm but not too thick, and super soft. I’ve heard it called insubstantial, but I find it just right for baby quilts, and it doesn’t bunch up in the machine.

step three: top. The quilt top completes the layering, and it gets smoothed over the other layers as tidily and squared-up as possible. I have learned to take a lot of care making sure the three layers are together evenly and that they almost cling to each other. You can get fusible batting, but I prefer this way.

step four: basting. There is pin basting and stitched basting. They say that pin basting is best for machine quilting, but I have to be honest—it doesn’t work. Not for me. Sometimes I’ll pin baste the edges of the quilt and a few parts of the middle, but only in combination with stitched basting. Basically, for stitched basting, you cut long threads and take long stitches through all three layers of the quilt, making sure the layers don’t shift. You can do a grid or a sort of starburst. Basting should be about four inches apart and should go from the center out, which is also the way you…

step five: quilt. Once the basting is done, I check to make sure the back is still smooth and nothing is puckered or bunched. Then, I figure out how I’m going to quilt the thing. In blocks? “In the ditch” of seams? In patterns? Around figures? In something abstract? I usually choose to quilt around my blocks or shapes, in either clear or matching thread (I’ve used machine quilting thread, but honestly, I’ve seen no difference from regular cotton thread, and I always have some from making the actual quilt top). I also use a machine quilting needle—I’m not sure what the difference is, but I have some, so I use them.
To do the actual quilting, I sort of half-fold, half-roll parts of the quilt so that they’re easier to manage. With large projects, they suggest using bicycle clips to secure the folds. Baby quilts aren’t usually that hard to manage, and sometimes I hardly find it worth it to roll it, especially because I often change direction, and I don’t have a long-arm machine, so I have to fit whatever I have all the way around. Folded or not, I then just stitch away, in whatever design I’ve decided, using the same straight stitch I’d use for any other sewing. Sometimes I do have to adjust bobbin or thread tension, so I usually do a test before I start on a few scraps layered together.
I mentioned that you’re supposed to quilt from the center out, which is true—it’s less likely to get unsightly puckers on the back, or layer shifting. They also suggest you outline blocks first, then do any internal, more fiddly work, which makes sense. There is also a way to quilt where you ignore the design and just quilt a pattern all over, but I’ve never really done that.
I mentioned not having much patience with this. A lot of times, the quilting involves doing a few lines, smoothing the whole thing out on the floor, picking it back up, then stitching more lines, and repeating until finished. This is not really all that time-consuming, but, you see, the quilt is almost finished at this point. The end is near, and you can really feel it. I’m thinking about getting it cleaned and delivered, and my mind is often on the next project, or wanting not to sew for a few days. On top of that, my patchwork pieces are often pretty elaborate, so I want them to have the most attention. I could just do a tied quilt, but that’s not really right, either. So, I compromise by doing just enough to set pieces off and give the piece a few extra tidbits of interest, and then I quit.
Best Part: A couple of times recently I’ve had quilting come out really well, with no major problems. That was a really good feeling, since I feel so inept with this part.
Worst part: Puckers/bunches. No matter how good the basting, sometimes lines aren’t straight or a layer will pull a bit too much. There is usually nothing you can do about it, or you can pick the whole thing out and try again.
Next: Binding! We’re almost home!

Stage Five: Assembly

Blocks
As noted in my prior post, assembly happens sometimes simultaneously with the cutting of pieces, depending on the project. This part of the project is pretty simple—you just sew the cut-out pieces together (with ¼ inch seams) to make sub-blocks, iron them, then stitch them together to make blocks. Just like any other sewing.
There are some complications, though, such as:

• Triangles with long edges are sometimes hard to figure out as to placement. Sometimes I will pin the template pieces, right sides together, to see how they should be placed when I’m sewing. I once had to redo an entire unicorn because I’d been sloppy about the placement of these really long, shardlike tail pieces.
  


• Squaring—I confess that I’m not that great at making blocks truly square. I could do ten of a block and have them all come out slightly different. The birds I made recently were a great example—the beak ends were all completely out of whack.



• Matching Seams—Because of the above problem, when combining sub-blocks to make a full block, seams don’t always match properly. Sometimes it doesn’t matter and you can fudge it. Sometimes you have to pick out the seams and try again.
  

These problems are part of the same problem, which is that I am not the most evenhanded and tidy seamstress. I admit it.

I usually wear something very casual and loose when I quilt. In cold weather, I wear layers to keep warm. In summer, I wear as little as possible. I find it hilarious that my nails are polished in this picture, because sewing is not a good time to keep a manicure.

Quilt
Once all the blocks are together, it’s time to assemble the whole quilt top. Are you ready? Here we go.
Actually, it’s not that hard. Especially now that I have my two cutting board options. I stitch blocks together, laying completed sections in place on the cardboard mat, then I use the puzzle mat for making sure blocks are aligned before they get sewn together.
Assembling the top is where the previous mistakes with squaring come get diminished. I have to use my grids to make sure seams are straight and reasonable. Pin, and stitch. Iron. Pin, and stitch. Iron.
Eventually, the whole shebang is together, one roughly thirty-fiveish by forty-sevenish quilt top. I usually do a pretty thorough job of ironing at this point, to make sure everything is as flat as possible. After this point, you can’t fix internal seams.


Best part: Just like the previous stage, production. Usually by this stage I’m flagging with the project, but getting blocks done makes me feel that the marathon is nearing its end.
Worst Part: Ironing. I hate ironing. I’ve gotten used to it from sewing so much, but figuring out some often bulky seams and where they should lie is a pain.
Next: Quilting

Stage Four: Cutting

The templates are prepared. The fabric has been washed and folded. The cutting boards are laid out, and I’ve laid in a selection of audio books. It’s time to cut.
By this stage, I’m entirely in my workroom. There is no TV in there, just my CD/tape stereo and lots of space. I use two cutting boards. One, which I “borrowed” from my mother, is cardboard, and it is useful for laying out the fabrics I want to use and storing pieces as they’re cut. I also lay out the final blocks on it, so the quilt begins to take shape.
The other is actually made up of pieces, called a puzzle mat. It was a gift request one year and I like it so much I asked for a second set the following year. The two sets create a sizable mat, but I can also pull a piece or two off and take it to the sewing machine to help me line up pieces before I sew them, without having to return to the big mats every time. Everyone has a preferred way of doing their cutting, but the puzzle mat is my choice. It makes things much easier.
When I cut, I go block by block: I usually cut pieces for one full block and sew it up before I do a whole set for the block, in case there is something horribly wrong with the template pieces; and, I usually do a whole set of a block before I start cutting for a different block. Usually.
I cut on the floor. I know what you’re thinking—I’m crazy. Honestly, though, it’s the easiest for me. It’s sometimes hard on my back, but I’m able to scramble and scooch around on the floor, all the way around the mat, and there is plenty of space to spread the fabric out.
I lay out a particular fabric, wrong side up, and go piece by piece through a block, tracing (in regular pencil—another quilters’ horror, I’m sure) the correct number of each piece at a time out on the fabric. Sometimes I’ll take a cutting break and cut some pieces out, then go back to tracing.

Here are some bird bodies and wings drawn on purple:
Through this whole process, I’m trying to use fabric as sparingly as I can. I try to squeeze pieces together to ensure there is as little waste as possible—especially if I know I need a lot of a particular color. I often will also label each piece with the corresponding block piece designation, so I will know where and which way it’s supposed to go. For really tricky pieces, I will include an arrow showing which side should be pointed up. This saves time for triangles in particular.It’s also important to note that when I use templates, I have to decide whether to face them label side up or down. If I have all the pieces up, then the block will turn out backwards to the template (because I’m drawing it on the wrong side of the fabric), and vice versa. Often, this doesn’t matter, as in the turtle, or the firefly. Sometimes, I’ll do some one way and some another, as in the lions.
This part of the process doesn’t require much thought beyond the above consideration…unless I am running out of a particular color. Then I have to get clever, or redesign. As referenced in a comment interaction earlier, this is one of the points at which a redesign is possible. I remember I ran out of a green once—a green I needed to make lake weeds. I hadn’t realized that I was so short on the fabric. So, I reworked the overall design to have fewer lake weeds and more of something else. I usually overbuy for the quilt top color, more than I think I need, because it’s really surprising how much space patchwork bits and pieces take up for the background. Thus, for some of my favorite fabrics, I don’t feel guilt about overbuying, because I know it might become a quilt top (or back).

Here is a complete bird and a complete flower block cut out. These are ready to be sewn, to test the template. When I do a whole bunch of pieces for one block, I'll make little piles for each one, in their actual places for the block, to make it easier when it's time to assemble.



Best Part: Production. I really start to feel like I’m getting somewhere, and it’s fun to use up fabric. As much as I like to buy it, I also like to use it, which adds to the feeling of production.
Worst Part: Honestly? My scissors calluses. I have a couple of different pairs of scissors, including so-called “ergonomic” ones, which are okay, but not my favorite—they’re a little heavy and not as maneuverable. I just use a standard pair, which I try to keep at least moderately sharp. Unfortunately, they do give me blisters in a couple of spots.
Next: Stage Five, Assembly

Feathers, anyone? Emily West Lowry

My hours and computer habits this week have been completely ridiculous--random, meandering searches, at the office until nearly nine...
Yet I also searched myself straight into a very intriguing new local business:
Emily West Lowry Designs
Emily is a local woman, who attended BGSU for degrees in history and geography; she is now running an online business and consigning her work to bridal shops and salons, and opening her own store in Waterville, OH.
You've heard before my affinity for 30s/40s fashion, and for vintage gear. You've seen my modern outfits with spins from another time. Looking at Emily's work, it is clear why it appeals to me: feathers and birdcage veils, jewels and buttons, in glamorous and well produced arrangements for the hair. Her work is feminine in the way that suggests a woman who is strong and insightful, used to making statements that people notice, but also keeping a part of herself secret.
I'm greatly looking forward to visiting Emily's shop when it opens in June.
I'm also continuing to work on designs for unique garters, and Emily has given me a new charge to believe that my work has a place in the modern fashion world.

Stage Three: Templates (for patchwork)

Ok. So, templates are not unique to me. There are a lot of ways of doing templates, and my way is not the best way, I can promise you that. It’s my way, though, and I’m pretty stubborn about sticking to what works for me, even if it’s not efficient.

Here’s how it works: When I have the blocks decided on and the full model drawn up, I am ready to create templates. I have to draw out each block full size on graph paper, if I haven’t already done so. I draw in any additional lines needed to make sure I can put the blocks together easily…for instance, if I have an odd shaped piece and would need to “piece in” a corner, sometimes I opt to split the piece up so I don’t have to sew around a corner, which is annoying. I do it on graph paper so I can make sure everything is reasonably square.

Then, I label each piece. I label them with an abbreviation of the block and the color needed (e.g. HT might be horse tail, and WB might be weed background). I label them also with a part of the block—a sub-block, if you will—and a number of the piece within the sub-block; usually the pieces should be assembled in number order. Thus 1A HB is the first piece needed of sub-block A for the horse’s background.

Confused? Here’s a picture to demonstrate:

Here we have two blocks with templates already cut up--a bird and a flower. The flower block has sub-blocks A and B. Actually, the bird does, too. You can also see gaps--when there are repeated pieces or pieces of the same size used in a block, I label them with any relevant parts numbers and letters. The triangles in the flower each have three codes because, for the larger, it forms part of the flower and two triangles of background, and for the smaller, two parts of the flower and one of the background.

Then, and this is the fun bit, I cut the block up. I try to make sure I have a reasonably clear surface to do this, and that there isn’t any breeze in the house. That could be dangerous. Then, I put the pieces where they’d belong in the block on the tabletop, so I know what I’m grabbing.

I use manila folders for my templates. Why? I don’t know. You need something reasonably sturdy, and I need something reasonably cheap and accessible, and easy to cut. I had some folders lying around the first time, and I’ve never looked back.

Also important: Good TV. This is one of the more tedious and mindless portions of my quilting process, and I have to have something on that will amuse me, but that I don’t necessarily need to look at every minute. Firefly and Pushing Daisies episodes are good choices.
Other tools: Ruler, mechanical pencil, drink, snacks, scissors.

I first measure and draw a dotted line a quarter of an inch away from one edge of the opened, flattened folder. A lot of people draw their templates regular size and then simply cut ¼ inch around the pieces. I don’t like to do this because a: my ¼ inch eye isn’t very consistent, and b: it doesn’t work with my cutting process. I then place one edge of each little graph paper piece on the dotted line, and draw a dotted line around the rest of the piece. I measure ¼ inch out from these dotted lines for all the other edges, and draw in the solid lines, using my trusty ruler. I now have a manila folder template for one piece, with a ¼ inch seam allowance drawn in. I measure off that piece and off other folder edges, always ¼ inch, and keep drawing in pieces until I have a whole block completed.

As I go, when I finish a part of a block, I tape it back together. Gradually the whole block will get taped together again. When I cut out the template pieces, I put them with the taped-together block and put them in a plastic sandwich or snack bag. I have a complete set of templates, with a guide for how to put the pieces together when they’ve been cut out of fabric. The above picture includes two sets of templates taken out of the bag and set up for cutting.

Best Part: I like the mindlessness of this work sometimes. It is a good feeling to do something that has a distinct start time and stop time—a to-do list item you can actually check off.
Worst Part: Pencil smears all over my hands. Also, this takes forever.
Stage Four: Cutting

Stage Two: Fabric Choice

At left: Butterfly quilt, Clare. Below, where I mention using too many fabrics, this is an example. I felt like they all went together, but it was really too much. The quilt turned out fine, but it is kind of busy.









Admittedly, fabric choice happens at a couple of different stages. I often do a reconnaissance mission to the fabric store to see what’s there, and if there is any impulse of YES for a particular fabric, or if I get a sudden inspiration for a design. I also examine my own shelves of material very carefully for inspiration or to check off what I already have available.

I have a few favorites that I keep on hand, and a few lengths of oddball fabric I’m not sure how I’ll use, as well as smaller sections of fabric I’ve picked up along the way. One of my favorites is a light blue fabric with bluebirds all over it. I always have to keep some of that. There is also fabric that I am saving for myself, as in lengths that have been gifts that I’ve set aside for my own projects. (And, as it happens, my old special occasions fabric quilt, made for my college years in 1997, is falling apart, so I actually do need to start forming plans for my own quilt.)

It’s helpful if I already know colors for a baby’s room, or if I have some idea of what colors the parents like. I also think about what tastes generally the parents have; for example, one father friend enjoys gingham, so obviously his daughter needed to have gingham involved. Another father friend enjoys the Colorado Avalanche, so I had to involve those colors as well. These days, my friends’ parents usually know what’s coming, and they know I like at least some information, so they will let me know what their plans are for the nursery, or the gender of the baby.

At right: Ladies quilt, Cecilia. The background is one of my favorite greens, actually a striated green with a leaf print. The bright red, green, and brown were for vines and flowers. The others were for dresses of the ladies. Very neat and tidy!








I don’t usually allow myself actually to buy fabric until I have the design phase completed. Then it’s on! It’s a well known fact that I love the fabric store. On one of my recent visits, I planned to stay maybe an hour or two, and I ended up in there for something like four hours (though only some of that was quilt-fabric buying). I’m addicted to fabric, to the textures and colors, to the color exchanges and the feeling of absolute wealth. Wall to wall bolts of fabric, with any number of creation possibilities, creations that will last. It’s richness. I want to swim in it, like Scrooge McDuck in his money.

When I’m buying quilt fabric, I usually have a list. The list contains blocks and colors I need for the blocks. I have usually checked off whatever I already have fabric for. Sometimes I have a fabric already in mind, maybe one I’ve seen or used before. Other times I’m baffled.
Take orange, for example. For some reason, orange is uber difficult for me to find—unless I don’t need it (and yes, I now pick up good orange if I find it). So much orange quilt fabric is really neonish and really not easy to match with other colors. I’ve made some mistakes before with orange.

Blues and greens, on the other hand, are easy—I’ve found lots of blue and green that I love, and sometimes I have a hard time keeping myself from putting them in the basket. Light blues and greens make awesome background fabric, especially for outdoor scenes, as many of my pieces are.

At left: One of my favorite collections ever. This was for the fantasy counting quilt for my nephew, and the colors came together really well. I felt like I finally brought together my understanding of colors and what I wanted to do with them, and some of the choices are my favorites. The owls were made out of ivory/brown/black clockwork fabric. The lake was the bluebirds fabric. The fish was a great orange fabric. I had fabric for the stonework of the castle and for the ladies' patterned dresses. It all came out right!


No matter the color, I’ve learned over time that I need to check my fabrics against each other and limit the number of fabrics used together—and not to get something if it really doesn’t match. I have a tendency to make quilts too busy, or to pick things with not enough contrast. I’m still learning. I do know a little about color theory and various quilt principles as far as fabrics are concerned, but I don’t make “educated” quilts—I don’t make it a point to use that knowledge. I use what feels right.

I have quite a lot of pictures of this stage. For several quilts I’ve done a photograph of all the fabrics together, once I’ve tested out different combinations and determined more firmly what I will use for what. I’m not sure why I’ve recorded this, and I’ve never before examined my motivations. Maybe I just like to see the folds of fabric together? Maybe I like to record my choices, for better or worse? Maybe, since this is the first stage where there are really colorful elements, it where my photography starts? I don’t know.

Best Part: Faaaaabbrriiiiiiiic.
Worst Part: Not finding just the right fabric when really, really needed. Also, as mentioned, I have a problem with selecting busy colors/patterns, or having too many.
Next: Stage Three, Templates


At right: Current quilt project.

Stage One: Design, part three

Full Design

The full design stage happens partially in parallel with the last portions of modeling, but extends past that stage also. When I do a full design, I sit down with my block/picture models and some more graph paper, and usually a movie or TV shows or something, so I have a little distraction and someplace to refocus my eyes.

I usually, based on the blocks I’ve chosen, draw a large rectangle on the graph paper, assigning each little square one inch. Most of my quilts hover in the 36 X 48 region. This, too, is a little unusual. Crib mattresses are generally 26 X 48 or somewhere in that area. But I usually think of my quilts as being floor quilts for tummy time, so I just do what size I like, and I like 36ish X 48ish. Again, this depends on block size and whether I’m doing sashing or anything like that (meaning extra strips or blocks of non-patchworked fabric separating blocks).

Once I have a large rectangle, or part of the rectangle (sometimes leaving dimensions up in the air until I get the blocks worked in), I work on where the blocks will go, how many there will be, and what the best arrangement is, as well as deciding whether extra space is needed. For a block that is almost all patchworked for the featured part, extra space is helpful. For a block that is mostly background and a smaller shape, extra space is unnecessary. There is a lot of erasing in this stage, as I jigsaw puzzle the pieces in. Often it comes together right away. Just as often, it takes days and many moments of re-thinking what I’ve done, revising the design. Sometimes I just outline the blocks, especially if it’s a complicated quilt with many blocks, as with the circus quilt. Sometimes I’ll draw the design on each block in, as with the turtle quilt or the violet quilt. In any case, things sometimes have to move around a lot until everything fits in just so. A mechanical pencil is very crucial to this whole process—one with a good eraser. Sometimes, if a quilt is regular in its geometrics, I will do the main lines over in pen, since pencil tends to smear (especially the way I write).

I should note here that I use a mechanical pencil for just about everything in the quilting process—I used to get in trouble in elementary school for using a dull pencil, and of course as I just mentioned I tend to smear a lot when I write. In the design process, I do have to force myself to write lightly at first, so I can erase if needed. But when I’m more sure of my design, I go ahead and draw things in darkly, so that’s sort of a sign or measure of my certainty about what I’m doing. If I’ve jumped the gun, I won’t erase—I will start over with a new piece of graph paper.

I usually have some idea of what I want to do on the edge of the quilt at that point, so if I’m using a border or something special I’ll go ahead and draw that in, too. The circus quilt, for instance, has a scalloped edge, as does the pearl quilt. The lady quilt has a proper border, and the alphabet appliqué quilt has piping. It’s important to draw in something like a scallop, so you can make sure the border won’t overlap your design, and you can space in any background fabric needed.

As an additional note, my favorite graph paper right now has five squares/inch on one side and four squares/inch on the other. I generally need to use the five-square side for the full design, but I can work out other designs on the back, as if I’m doing a medallion block on the back or something. It’s also helpful for doing the individual blocks, depending on the dimensions and need for more subtle angles.

This is the design for my present project. I did birds on the top and violets on the bottom. This is for the second child of a particular family, and I did something I normally didn't do--I did a pattern that was similar to the one for the first child. The first quilt was fireflies and stars. The arrangement of the elements is similar, or at least inspired by the other. The quilts will be very different, but there will be a unity between them that I enjoy. Best Part: I love seeing the full design coming together. It is usually at this point that I feel all is right with the world…usually. Sometimes I’m still uncertain, but at least when this stage is finished I feel like I’ve really created something. It’s like an architect’s blueprints, I imagine. Someday I might frame them. Worst Part: When things don’t fit, I get antsy and obsessive. Next: Stage Two! Fabric Choice

Stage One: Design, part two

Modeling, aka Research

Once I have a theme down, and some idea of what I want to put in the quilt, I start figuring out what the pieces will be, and potential block sizes. If I’m doing appliqué, I have to start working on outlines. I might trace, or I might draw things out myself. Since most of what I do is patchwork, I have quite a few techniques to help me through the modeling process.

I usually make a list of possible things to put in the quilt. I then sort through old patterns I have used, to see if anything is right for the present quilt. For the medieval ladies quilt with flowers, I’d already copied down some flower patterns from a book, so I had some possibilities to look at. I also already had a full pattern prepared for the ladies, from a previous quilt.

I should back up a little here—I love looking through libraries' quilt books. At the BGSU library, there is a book with lots of established patterns in it, usually simple and classic ones. I’ve gotten a few blocks from there, and modified others. I’ll take a piece of graph paper and copy down the blocks I like, whether current-quilt-relevant or for future ideas. At the Wood County library, there are shelves and shelves of quilt books, both general and specific to themes. I looked through a sweet one recently, Quilts from Nature by Joan Colvin. It seriously revolutionized my life, not so much for the quilts I’ve made for others, but plans for projects I want to do for my own home. It has some genuinely awesome patterns in it, and some techniques for creating blocks I hadn’t really considered before. I also have used a great one with patterns of magical characters, called Spellbinding Quilts, by Maaike Bakker. The aforementioned lady pattern is a very simple modification of one from this book.

The patterns don’t always work for my needs, in fact, so I have to redesign them. I copy them down as is, but then I redraw them, again on graph paper, in a more convenient size or with alterations to make the piecing easier. If I am working with a very specific theme, I’ll look for books on that theme (as with the circus animals—a book with Noah’s Ark animals came in very handy, as did the Go Wild quilt books by Margaret Rolfe). There are thousands of quilt books in the world. I look for books that have fairly simple designs that match my skill level and techniques I prefer to use.

Eventually, I have a few sheets of graph paper with patterns all drawn up in their proper sizes.

Best Part: Satisfaction of finding just the right block, or the right set of blocks. If at some point I have thought, “This is perfect!” it’s been a good modeling session.

Worst Part: I can’t really think of one. This is one of my favorite steps. Sometimes I do get a little pang of concern for how much graph paper I’m using. It can also be kind of time-consuming.

Next: Full Design

Stage One: Design, part one

The Thinker
The baby is approaching. I start working on design midway through the friend/relative’s pregnancy, and timing will depend partly on whether I have projects backed up or not. In the last two years, the babies have been coming pretty fast, so I’m behind. I used to like to time it to have the project done right after the baby was born, but that no longer happens. I’m lucky if I get it finished three months in, which isn’t so bad, really. It’s a gift that comes in when other gifts aren’t arriving anymore and things might be a little stressful.
The projects are always different. I make the choice partly based on skills I want to learn or work on, partly based on what I’ve been doing or what I like best, and partly based on what I know about the incoming child.
For instance, I’ve decided that, on the whole, I like doing patchwork best. I’m not sure why; possibly it is because it makes me feel like I am creating order. Perhaps it is because it feels classic. Perhaps it is because I am not so good at appliqué. I definitely like the look of patchwork, and I’ve learned it is extremely versatile.
Even so, I want to keep learning skills, and I am still working on different techniques, within patchwork and in other styles.
In any case, the design usually starts the way I best think—I let my mind wander, often on the backburner while I’m doing other things. I circle around ideas like a hunting lion, not startling anything, staying downwind. The grazing thoughts usually include whatever I know of the family and any previous children, any nursery or favorite colors I have been given, and any clues as to the baby’s name. Also, I think of the baby’s gender, not so much for color, but for design elements. Half-sentences like, “What if I did…” and “I wonder if I can…” drift about, getting discarded or stored depending on my skill level and quality of the notion. Sometimes a theme will come to me suddenly, or I’ll make a stream-of-consciousness connection (as in the turtle quilt—the baby’s middle name would be Francis, aka Frank. I thought of Franklin the turtle and my own lake history, and that was pretty much that). Other times, it’s not so simple.
Take, for example, the circus quilt. I had the theme, I knew the nursery colors and the baby’s gender, and yet the thought process was one of my most involved yet. A circus is, of course, a rich theme, and I’d never done anything like it. It took a long time to figure out what I wanted to do and on what scope, and I have a lot of half-begun drawings that I gave up on.
Gradually, things will take shape in my mind. I’ll make a decision of what I want to try, and then I’ll move forward. Much like the writing process, quiltmaking is recursive, so I know I can always go backward and revise a design, add more thoughts, or completely overhaul if something isn’t working.
Best Part: “Creation is an act of sheer will.” Jurassic Park.
Worst Part: I get antsy when I’m trying to boil up an idea. If something isn’t coming to me, I get frustrated. I won’t give up; instead, I’ll get obsessed.
Next Time: Modeling

A Look at What's Ahead

Lest you think I am neglecting this blog, I want to give you a heads' up on some things.
People have asked me a lot about the quilting I do, about my process of creation. While the mystique is enjoyable, I've decided to do a blog series on my process, complete with pictures. It's not a tutorial; more like a showcase. I've been taking pictures of my current quilt-in-progress, a relatively simple one, so I can best explain how it all works (because honestly, with the more complex ones, I can't always justify the decisions--it just happens).
I'm also working on a few playlists, for quilting and for other pursuits.

Now, I'm just back from spring break. I visited home and hung out with my folks, did some shopping with my Mom for a maid of honor dress (in black), got a haircut, listened to hockey games, and went to visit my Gran in her new digs. I actually extended my visit for a day because I wanted to spend Saturday in my jammies and finally plow through some essays. I have 10 left and then I'm good to go until Thursday.

So, let me at this moment just leave you with that hope for the future, and this video of a kitten riding a tortoise!

Scrubs?

For some reason, I received a catalog today from Lydia's Uniforms, mainly a medical scrubs company. I'm not sure what mailing list led to that, but it got me thinking about current uniform fashion. Honestly, lots of these scrubs are pretty fashionable, including the shoes.
Take, for instance, this little blouse:

Crayola threads by Barco, Empire waist top

It has a ruffled neckline and a little bow at the side, and is trim and clean.

Then there is this T-shirt, complete with a quote from Grey's Anatomy:

Grey's Anatomy scrubs by Barco, long seleeve shirt

And while we're at it, let's get some rock-star shoes, like these from Alegria:

And don't even get me started on how comfortable scrub pants look. I favor a drawstring pair that fall to my heels, with a cargo-leg or wide-leg design for a modern look, in a color like "ciel blue" or "wine."

I'm reminded of when, on Project Runway, they made over the postal service uniforms. Who knew medical gear could be so fashion forward? Even so, I wonder what would happen if Project Runway decided to make up new medical uniforms and scrubs? Are you listening, Lifetime?

And now, a word about toile

For various reasons, I am currently investigating toile. And when I say varied, I really mean one reason. A not very secret one.

I feel like most people at all familiar with fabric know a toile print when they see one--the all-over scene fabric, with a pastoral flavor and usually a one-color-on-white print.

People also have varying opinions on toile. I have no particular bent one way or another, but I realized as I began my research that I have never actually used toile. I have been attracted to toile prints on numerous occasions, but could never think of a reason to get any.

As I am poking around, I am learning a lot. Often referred to as "Toile de Jouy" for its most famous production location in France, toile has a storied history from the past few hundred years. It can also contain a wide variety of prints, not just jolly French ladies and gentleman.

I'd forgotten, for instance, about chinoserie toile, full of "pastoral" landscapes from the Orient, and certainly idealized Asian figures.

Schumacher toile, from Brick House Fabric

Then there are the tribute toiles, like this Civil War toile:

Civil War Toile, from The Door Mouse

Evidently there is quite a famous set of toiles with an Eisenhower theme, and some with a Southern USA theme, after Gone with the Wind was published.

There are also toiles with literary themes, as in this example:

Robinson Crusoe toile, by Lee Jofa/Christopher Moore.

Certainly, a lot can be done with toile. Home decor via wallpaper, draperies, and furnishings are natural. Toile is often used in quilting, since as a cotton fabric it's a natural choice. But I was surprised to learn about toile's capabilities in fashion:

50s dress, Dorothea's closet, via Baltimore Style

1987 Christian Lacroix, via Dressmaker

I'm a little embarrassed now for having passed up some toile opportunities. I'm looking forward to getting in to a good fabric store to peruse the possibilities. I'd like to find some good literary toile, and maybe some Greek myth toile. Maybe also some sweet architectural toile!

And, if you're still looking for some wellies this season, check out these!

More on creative toile from Mr. Peacock.

In Which I Pull Myself Together

I try to decide the night before what clothes I want to wear the next day, since it saves time and I can sleep later. Last night I opted for my peachy-pink sweater (which I think might have been from La Redoute when they were still in business) and my brown pants, which, as my students pointed out today, have a nice sheen (from The Limited). Naturally, I'd wear my St. John's Bay brown boots, a plain white T, and my necklace beaded with selections from the Glass Onion Bead Co. in Appleton, WI.

My hair I leave to chance. Yesterday, for some reason, it was very glamorously smooth. Today, not so much, making it very obvious I need my ends trimmed. As I noticed, however, my snood (from Love21) is a pretty fair match for this sweater. Why not?

So, here you see me, in an "outfit," hard at work at my desk (for the purposes of this picture). Not bad, eh?

Seven

Thank you, Cloud of Secrets, for selecting me to receive The Stylish Blogger Award!
The rules of acceptance:

~Thank and link back to the person who awarded you
~Share 7 things about yourself
~Award 10 recently discovered great bloggers
~Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award.



1. My favorite hairstyle is second day curls; that is, I sleep with damp hair in sponge rollers and have a day of curls, then don't wash my hair, but might put it up for the night. The next day, when the curls are a little more relaxed, they still have body and make it look like I have more hair than I do. I like to pin it up and have curls at the back of my head, with curly tendrils falling artfully down. Like this:

2. For the longest time, my favorite Halloween costume ever was my Arabian princess, for which I wore silver press-on nails and one of my sister's dance costumes, with a veil and lots of rhinestones. But as an adult, my favorite was Terpsichore, muse of the dance, for which I made a simple blue toga edged in Greek key ribbon, and a pink shepherdess drape tied with ribbon and a bejeweled broach. I wore a flower circlet. I don't have a ready copy of a picture of it, but I modeled it on old art pieces like this work by Eustache Le Sueur.

3. My favorite instrument to listen to is probably the cello. I'm particularly fond of the violin also, but something about the cello gets inside me. I recently watched this video of Stjepan Hauser and Luka Sulic playing MJ's "Smooth Criminal" and I nearly drooled. Luka Sulic in particular is dreamy to me (the one with short hair and an impossibly alluring lower lip). I know nothing about these gentlemen except that they are award-winning cellists. And they give me goosebumps and shivers. The passion and thrill...I can hardly bear it. I've watched this over and over P.S. There should be more videos like this, classical instruments played with zest...and I love that it's a rock classic. I love my classics, but don't you think this would get kids interested in playing instruments?

4. I am almost pathologically independent. I find it very difficult to accept help from anyone for anything, with the exception of my family, and even their input is limited to some key areas like health, car care, and general advice. In the Shirley Temple version of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, she repeats the line, "I'm very self-reliant." That's pretty much me. And while people have said, "You deprive others of the joy of being helpful to you," I somehow can't get behind that sentiment. I don't know if it's because I don't like to be beholden to people, I don't like to feel like a helpless woman, or I feel like I was given enough by God that I should be able to survive with that, or what. I accept help when it's blindingly obvious I need it, but that is rare. I just seem to have a hard time letting people take care of me.

5. My favorite non-internet PC game is Where in Time Is Carmen Sandiego? Sure, I loved Blue Max and made it to the end, played hours of Tetris and its other versions, and Carmen Sandiego's other versions, too, and begged for Oregon Trail. But Where in Time was one of the first games we owned that had extras...there were the cases, but there were also places to go in HQ, like the coffee machine. There was also the chrono-thingy which had a pretty cool effect for a late 80s DOS game. And it came with a paperback encyclopedia.

6. I think the height of wealth would be having a house with a library so big you'd need a ladder on wheels to get at the high books. It should have a well-ventilated fireplace and comfortable, cozy chairs, and long windows with a view of a forest or a meadow or some such natural features. Not unlike this one, from the article "Super Home Libraries" over at Business Week. And if I can get one with a secret passageway, so much the better.

7. One of my most bizarre traits is chameleonism, most especially with my voice. I tend to pick up an accent and vocabulary quickly when I'm around people with a similar one (and drop them when the next group comes along), but I also do it while singing. I don't actually know what my natural singing voice sounds like, because I tend to imitate involuntarily, and I sing a song the way I've heard it. I remember driving in a car and singing along with The Cardigans' song "Lovefool" and my friend telling me I sound just like the lead. But I can do the same thing with many other artists. I am actually not very good at impressions of most people, but for some reason my singing voice is a total copycat. I notice it in church, too, after a soloist sings, or if someone good is near me...I sort of up the ante on my own voice. I don't know why it's like this, and I'm not always glad it's happening, because it doesn't make me trust my singing voice any, and I don't do it on purpose.

Who reads this blog? All of you are officially nominated :)

Bath Cap Redux

I did take a bath last night and use my fancy bath cap. I kept it on while I snuggled into my pink jammies as well, and curled up in my Woman's Blankie, and listened to an audiobook.
I think about luxury a lot. How I have a very difficult time understanding a $300 pair of jeans or $1000 pair of shoes. How, instead, I prefer "cheap and cheerful."
We so often think of luxury as something rare or pricey, something others might covet because of its expense or exclusivity. Sure, many of those things are luxurious. But I can never really get behind that definition.
I feel like luxury is really about the things small and large that delight us without having to try. The things we gravitate to and smile secret, enigmatic smiles about. I don't even think they have to be particularly rare.
For example, I can afford to keep five kinds of chai handy for ready drinking. A cup of tea requires a choice. Every time I make a cup, especially if I've made it in the microwave and am lifting it down, I hold the cup to my nose, usually before I have even put sugar in it. Sure, I make some just about every day. But it's a luxury, nevertheless, because it will never fail to inspire a little twist of my heart, a little ritual of calm, and the luxury of decision.
Don't we, after all, overestimate what is normal? I find myself making that mistake all the time, forgetting that what I might take for granted is actually extraordinary. I remember when MSU had a bunch of fabric that was printed incorrectly. They sent it to a poor African nation to be cut up and used as blankets, as so many didn't have anything through the surprisingly cold nights. Every night, as I sink onto my mattress, enveloped in layers of sheets and blankets, I have that same little ritual of calm, that little acknowledgement of gratitude for something extra. It's a bed. Nothing could be simpler. But I treat it like a luxury and I keep it the way I like it (seldom making it, for instance) because I can.
This isn't a post about being grateful for what we have, or helping those in need. Those things are important, but this is about acknowledging that luxuries don't have to be things others would view as unreachable, or things we have to save up for. We are just as capable of making luxury as having it handed to us on golden salvers. It's nice to have nice things. It's nice to be able to afford something you usually can't, or receive something you might not buy for yourself because it is not "necessary" for life (I'm looking at you, delicious salted caramel chocolates, of which I ate two yesterday!).
But isn't it also nice, and luxurious, to put on a girly bathing cap, run a tub full of hot water with bubbles and herbs, put on an audiobook read by Rene Auberjonois, checked out from a library, and opt to just sit for a half hour? Isn't that, really, the biggest luxury of all?

Accio Bath Cap!

It didn't work, by the way.
I had a lovely stolen day on Sunday. Went to church, then off to volleyball (I signed up for a co-ed team at the community center with some friends), only to find out they'd delayed the season for a week. So, back home. I finally got some things put away, though the house still looks a mess. I watched TV and read a book, and dozed on the couch. There was a Star Trek movie marathon on all day, and later Masterpiece Classic began Downton Abbey.
It was the perfect evening for a bath and a paperback book, which I often do on Sundays. I used a new Lush bomb, one that is meant to smell like strawberry ice cream. It kind of did, but more important was the delicious foam that resulted when I held the slow-dissolving bomb under the tap. I was so entranced by this process that I failed to realize that I had not grabbed my new Victorian Trading Company bathing cap, a Christmas present I'd intended to use at earliest opportunity.
So there I was, already cozied into the water. Helas! The spell did not work, and I went capless. I certainly wasn't going to freeze by getting out of the water onto the chilly floor. As it was, inside all day in wool socks, my toes were cold and rather white. My apartment does not seem to be heating quite as efficiently as last year.
I can only imagine how much more girly bathtime will be next time, with my charming new accessory!

This kid is all right.

This year, I treated Christmas like a "Do Over" from last year. Last year I was miserable. This year I was as close to fine as I've been for fifteen months. The setting was back in Michigan, and my sister's family was incoming. The weather was perfect--it had snowed, but was not snowing, cold but not icy.

For some reason, I had boundless energy when I got home home...so, I helped out a bit with last-minute chores and goaded my parents to stay on task. When you have 3 1/2- and 1 1/2-year-old children running about, the house needs to be ready. I helped clean and set out a few decorations, and made space for the tree to come in. By the time the family arrived, things were sufficiently Christmasy, with room for the kids to play.

Both kids like our homestead, and there were lots of things to explore: old toys, Christmas decorations, the stairs, and books by the bushel. And then, of course, the presents were arranged, and the house was exactly as it was when my sister and I were little, with new toys and paper strewn everywhere. My niece was old enough this year to help pass out packages, and she profited even more from the fact that my nephew is not, thus she got to open his packages, too.

Beyond the chaos, there was nothing but love. My niece is my sweet little barnacle, following me about while I put up the tree lights, climbing into my lap whenever I had a sit-down, even having a rest with me in my own room. We had "picnics" on the floor while she chattered away to me, making my dad chuckle in the other room. My nephew is a smile champion, and he's walking now, so we were all chasing him around. He thought it was hilarious when I played with his feet at the dinner table, and he enjoyed looking out the window with me at the "car" (my dad's aerial lift--anything with wheels is a "car.")

Some of my favorite moments with the family:

• Playing with the kids upstairs, wrestling, tickling, climbing on the beds, and shaking our hands and feet in the air.




• Watching my niece and her grandma making cookies.




• Having my nephew charge at me with his arms up and a big grin, to be picked up and cuddled.




• Reading Peter Rabbit to my niece before we both passed out in my childhood bed.




• My nephew's rapturous shout of "CAR!" when he saw the car I bought him (whereupon he immediately started bawling because we were taking too long to get it out of the box).




• Making my sister laugh so hard she cried.




• Having a firearms lesson with my dad.




• Watching my brother-in-law and niece sledding in our yard.




• Teaching my niece the difference between translucent and opaque, using Christmas lights (both of those words, from the mouth of a 3-year-old, are adorable).




• The first time my mom's "Got a hug for Grandma?" to her grandson was followed not by running away giggling but by arms shooting up to be hugged (albeit not at the best time, when she was trying to shoo him away from the stove).




• My nephew holding his hand out to me at the dinner table to be kissed.

Truly, it was a glorious holiday. We all made it back safe and sound, and...well...God bless us, every one.

An Homage to My Sister

Happy Birthday, Sister!


My sister is a pretty amazing person. And, an amazing pretty person. She has done so many things that I have not done, things I'm not able to do, some even things that I would be afraid to do. Here are fifteen:

Skied. (Toboggan! Snoooooww Tractooooooor!)

Studied Abroad.

Done archaeology.

Worked in a museum.

Gotten a 4.0 in college.

Traveled to Israel.

Gotten married.

Had two beautiful children.

Started a fashion/art blog.

Drawn lovely pictures of Renaissance and medieval ladies.

Made wonderful shadow boxes.

Lived in three states.

Sewed her own wedding dress.

Studied Latin.

Taught me how to put on makeup.

Fashion vs. Food

Last night I was reminded of a valuable lesson.

I chose not to go grocery shopping so that I could instead trek out to the Franklin Park Mall in Toledo. I had an errand to do up there, and knew there was some weather coming in this weekend, so thought I'd get it out of the way while the getting was good.

Despite the title of this post, that's not the point of this story--I had a reasonably productive trip, picking up a few things for other people and a few things for myself. I'm into tights lately, so picked up some of those and also some new lounge pants (because Lord knows I don't have enough jammies--actually, I wear them so often I am wearing out a few pairs).

No, the point is this:

On my last trip, in November, my eye was drawn to a beautiful jacquard dress in Dillard's, from BB Dakota. I saw it on my way into the mall, and I stopped back to "visit" it on my way out. I didn't try it on. It was $109, which is more than I usually spend on a dress. I didn't even really glance at the sizes.

I always park in the same place at Franklin Park, and once again as I headed into Dillard's I was arrested by this dress. I went about my business--I truly was looking for a holidayish dress, and didn't find anything the whole time. All too short in the skirt or too low in the top, or not fancy enough, or too fancy. So, as I went back through Dillard's on my way out, I thought, what the heck. I picked up the size 4, the only other option being a size 6, and headed into the dressing room.

I knew it was going to be too big. I could tell even as it hung on the hanger. And it was. Today, I called the Maumee Dillard's, and was told that they don't actually carry that line in their store. The next nearest Dillard's is...well, it's not close. I can't even say that the 0 would fit, so I don't really feel comfortable ordering it.

So, I learned (and you should learn from me) that if something arrests your attention that much, and it's not outside the realm of possibility, then you should probably try it on right away. The saleslady told me that the dress had been flying off the rack. She also asked me what shoes I'd wear, as she'd had varying responses (my answer was obvious--red T-straps). I'm not inordinately upset about all this. I'm perfectly capable of making such a dress, even, but I have other projects going. I'm just a little rueful...who wouldn't be, with such a lovely garment?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some groceries.