It is an art and talent that is handed down through the generations. From mother to daughter, aunt to niece, sister to sister. It could quite possibly skip an entire generation. You don't have to have real talent except to be able to sew in a straight line, and even then you could pass off your creation as a crazy quilt.
My mother had taught me to sew as a young girl. My grandmother taughtme the fine are of cross stitching. I taught myself counted crossstitch, crewel, jewelry making, floral arranging and even was able tomaster the most rudimentary painting techniques. With all this talentI just knew quilting wouldn't be that difficult to master. And itwasn't. What it was and what no one warned me about was how addictingit was. Oh sure, you read the articles, the clever coffee mugs andthe bumper stickers with their little sayings. "I brake for all quiltshops." "The one who dies with the most fabric wins!" That last oneI don't agree with. You're dead, you have all this fabric, and like money, you can't take it with you.
I started out simple. I bought fat quarters. They seem pretty innocent, just a small piece of fabric. Not really a full yard so what harm could that be. None really if all you need is just a few colors. But what if your doing a scrap quilt, and you don't have any scraps? Well that's a whole new spool of thread now isn't it? You can't have too many blocks looking alike, or too much of one fabric repeated. You have to have a lot, so it looks like you made it from scraps, that's the whole idea isn't it?
So there it is! Finished! It's lovely everyone is just so surprised.And you sit back and admire it. Then you get to thinking, "wow, that was really fun. I really found that enjoyable. I want to do it again." That's where any sane person would say, "ok, I mastered that,what else can I learn!" Oh no, not me. Like everything else I do, Ithrew my whole self into it.
You have to have a whole array of tools. Scissors, rotary cutters,mats, chalk, rulers, templates. Not to mention fabric and thread ofevery color and hue. I had to go so far as to put myself on a fabric diet. That's like telling someone addicted to caffeine they couldn't have their coffee. Or a chocoholic... I shudder to think of what that looks like. I told myself, no more fabric until I used what I had.Of course, that meant I had to sew everything in sight. I made wallhangings, quilts, tablecloths, lap quilts, you name it. It's not like you can just buy a couple of yards of fabric and hide it away. Oh no,fabric is like fine art, you have to show it off, touch it, match itup with others in your collection.
A basket of fabric becomes two, then a bin, then a stack of bins and finally a cabinet! And it just isn't buying fabric but you find yourself actually looking at an old flannel shirt with a calculated look.Just how many 4 inch blocks can I get from a large shirt. Mentally your rubbing your chin, comparing it to what is already in thecabinet, planning, scheming. Thinking... can I really get another winter out of that shirt, or should I just. And before you know it,scissors are in hand and the buttons are off and it's suddenly rendered"unwearable", and there is no remorse what so ever in the deed!!
I keep wondering if a twelve step program would work for quilting. I don't think so. I know I would go to the meetings for the tea and baked goods. It's a well known truth that quilters also like to bake.Why they even have a cookbook that combines quilt patterns and dessert recipes. Let's face it, it's hopeless. I don't mind that I can'tkick my addition. I like picking threads off my clothes, waitingpatiently for a piece of clothing to be too worn to wear but still have enough life in it to be in a quilt. Like people who smoke, drink, eat chocolate, and the rest, I am helping the economy.
