When I started really quilting, as opposed to tying two flat pieces of fabric together, I toyed with the idea of becoming a quilt snob. It wasn't intentional, it just sort of evolved; evolved from one word that, at the time, sent me over the edge – blanket.
My first pieced quilt, the one I made Tad with the 5/8” seams of my garment-making days, was tied. But I called it a quilt. I later learned it is a comforter if it has been tied. For my second pieced quilt, I tutored myself using a teach-yourself-to-quilt book I had picked up in a dime store somewhere. I didn't fully understand the finer points of what they were trying to tell me, but somehow I managed to get the durned thing together. It was a show stopper (at least, I thought so) of unbleached muslin and seven solid color cottons, a la Amish. I'm ashamed to report where I got the fabric. Ick. Let's change the subject.
I named this magnum opus “First Try”, and I took it on tour. It was kept packed in the car, instantly ready for a roadshow Brag and Tell. A phone would ring, and when the person answered, I'd make a little small talk before interrupting them to say, “I made a quilt. Since you're home now, I'll come over and show it to you.” Click. I didn't want to give anyone the chance to decline, so I hung up and ran for the car. This was before common people had cell phones, so I didn't have to worry about getting a cancellation en route. If I got there fast enough, they didn't even have a chance to bolt the door.
My approach was one of childlike sheepishness. My years spent as a counselor honed my relationship skills, and I knew how to turn on the charm when I had to. Normally, I wouldn't have resorted to such unhealthy behaviors, but we're talking quilting here, for crying out loud -- an activity that was fast replacing my need for any human contact at all. Once inside, I would unfurl “First Try” and whisper, with understated, breathless awe, “Look. What. I. Made!” A smart audience would give me a few coos and good-gollies to sate me, and I would dismiss myself in a timely manner. Otherwise, I was bound to stick around for awhile until they caught on. Having just completed a whole quilt, I could be very patient.
I was in public one day, stitching away. Since I quilt on my lap without a hoop or a frame, I drag my gypsy quilts all over kingdom come. A young girl, wet behind the ears and mildly disrespectful of her elders, was trying to get my attention. I hadn't heeded the hails she had extended my way until the upstart said, “Hey, YOU! The lady sewing the blanket!”
Scuh-REEECH!!! The proverbial fingernails went from east to west, the entire length of the proverbial blackboard. I developed a heretofore undetected tic in my left eye. I felt my teeth clench and my jaw quiver; my peripheral vision vanished.
“Did you say, “Blanket?”
Blanket? Blank-ket?
The Peg genes kicked in, thankfully, and the desire to wring her pencil neck passed quickly. “No, dear. This isn't a blanket. We call this a quilt. You see, it has a pieced top, a backing, and a middle layer of.....where are you going? Hey, I'm not done yet. Come back here! I'm telling you about my quilt! It's not a blanket!”
Within a reasonable amount of time I decided to let it go. She was young. What did she know? I doubt she meant it as a personal attack.
At about this time The Barn and The Peg moved. They decided to downsize from a spacious, family-sized home to a nice two-bedroom/two bath apartment, in a retirement community called Pennsylvania Place. As The Barn would say, “We're downsizing, with a capital 'down' and a capital 'sizing'.”
The pleasing part of the process was getting to decorate the new place. They had a ball. They shopped for downsized furniture, so they wouldn't have to drag along an upsized sofa into a downsized living room. And my dad, aka Mr. Project, devised many complex and clever ways to maximize the amount of storage they had in their apartment, and in the “storage bin” (a cage-like closet) each residence was allowed in the common basement. He is brilliant at things like this. He even created a storage unit that fit into the big combination tub/shower unit in the master bath. They didn't want to use the tub, anyway, and made the practical decision to take turns using the shower in the other bath. This further afforded them the ability to adjust to their downsized lives by keeping more of their stuff within arm's reach.
My mom had a window treatment (we don't call them curtains anymore) and a bedspread made for their new bedroom, and they were finally going to put down a hoarded little Persian carpet, acquired on one of their travels abroad. Everything looked so nice together, and The Peg was pleased.
I thought I'd ice that cake and make them a quilt for their new place. A nap quilt for the bedroom, using solids that reflected the colors in the new bedspread and their Persian keepsake. I called to bestow upon them the holy news. The Peg wasn't home, so I told The Barn of my plans, of the need for a swatch of the leftover fabric for reference, of the perfect size and design to compliment the swirly rose patterned bedspread. When I finished my homily, The Barn paused politely and said:
“Well, we already have quite a few blankets.”
Excuse me? Did you say, “Blanket?”
What I wanted to say, and I'm not proud of this, was, “Well, far be it from me to junk up your place with too many blankets!” I don't really know what I said, since I couldn't hear myself over the fingernails screeching again across the blackboard of my mind, but I don't think I flamed him too badly.
I showed him, though. I made the greatest quilted blanket my little brain could come up with. It is a very plain Squares in Bars Amish pattern. It holds a collection of the colors found elsewhere in the room, and its graphic angles are a good foil for the florals in the spread and the pattern of the woven rug. As you may know by now, I often quilt in solids because I love to stitch, and the solids are a good canvas for the patterns I create.
When I was young, The Peg told me that she loved roses, so I tried to give her something rose-y whenever a gift-giving occasion arose. When I was about ten-years-old, I found some lotion at the drugstore that contained rose hips, and that qualified it as a gift for my mom. In this quilt, I gave my mother more roses. In each of the six-inch squares, I quilted a rose. On the bars/sashing, I quilted narrowly-spaced diagonal lines. I love dense quilting, and I really went to town on this one.
And, when I was a young, The Barn made up a little ditty we referred to as “Pat My Head”. We'd drive down the road, singing and making up new verses to “Pat My Head”. When Hubba and I got married, The Barn arranged all the music for our wedding. It was marvelous, aided greatly by the principal violinist of the Cedar Rapids Symphony, who happened to be a close family friend. In fact, his daughters were also performing that day -- as our flower girls. Many remarked afterwards that it was too bad we had to interrupt such a fine concert for a wedding. As he played, I heard a complete unaccompanied verse of “Pat My Head”, a surprise gift from The Barn. You guessed it. In this quilt, I gave my dad his music. The borders held a musical staff, and the notes to “Pat My Head”. Of course, I didn't tell him beforehand, either, so I could surprise him back. When I gave them the quilt, he noticed the notes in the border. I said, “Daddy! What is the tune?”
“Hmmmm. Let's see.... La-la-laaaaa, la-la-laaaa. Lala, lala, la-la-laaaa. It's 'Pat My Head'! “Oh, Kari! Thank you so much for the quilt!” The back bottom corner held the quilt's name: “She Reposes Among Roses, His Music Surrounds Her”.
I knew I could wait him out. He hasn't ever called it a blanket again.
Thing is, by now I don't care. Somebody called one of my quilts a blanket just today, which brought this story to mind again. I must be growing as a quilter. If someone wants to call it a blanket, it's a blanket. It's a special blanket, inspired by an affectionate desire to delight the recipient, and stitched with great love.
Keep warm, Barn and Peg.
Copyright © 5/28/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
In Defense of Quilting as Excitement, Part 2
Paducah or Bust
I still maintain that not only is quilting fun, quilters are wild and wacky. The workshops, guild meetings, and shop hops I've participated in are one giant, hairy laugh from beginning to end. Even the most proper stitchers, who manage to get all their points sharp and seams exact, will take the good-natured sneering from the rest of us in stride. So, I don't understand the reactions of my family on this one. They think I'm starved for action, in spite of my obvious zeal for all things fabric. It's stereotyping, I tell you, plain and simple.
Take our daughter. Lovely girl, raised well. You know the drill -- she got her brains and good looks from her father -- I still have mine. I try to have a conversation with her about quilting, but she can't stay on the subject with me. It's always “me, me, me” with her. Could she take a few minutes to look at my new fabrics? No-oo. Will she ride along with me to pick up another hank of batting? No-ooo. It's all Morgan, Morgan, Morgan, and goes something like this:
“I think there's a new Hoffman down at the quilt shop that will be perfect to finish off the border for Aunt Lora's sampler.”
“Why isn't there any food in the house? We're all hungry.”
“Hmmmm? Oh. I'll drop you off at Fareway on my way to the shop.”
“But, Mom. I'm still in the wheelchair after the accident. Remember the accident? We ran into a ditch and hit a tree when you saw those ginkgo leaves, and started gesturing pell-mell and howling, “Motif! Motif!”. Does the term 'Jaws of Life' ring a bell with you?”
“Drama queen. It's not like it's a permanent condition, you know.”
She can be snippy, too. When I have left the house for my guild meetings, I've heard her mutter, “Have fun... something-something...the coven”. The coven? I'm thinking, sense of humor?
Though I expect a bit of resistance from our son, he's not quite as bad as his sister. He was still fairly young when I started quilting, so at least around me he doesn't protest much. I planned his coverlet for hours, running ideas by him and tossing fat quarters across the bed for his approval. When his mind started to wander, I pleaded with him to stay on task. Cute little fella. He finally began to show an interest, though his taste was atrocious, and he pointed excitedly:
“This one, and this one, and this one here! If you make me a quilt out of these, will it keep me warm?”
“Oh, yesss, my darling! It will keep you toasty warm, and you'll sleep better than ever before.”
Tad: (dryly) “Okay, then. Use these.”
I merrily retreated to change the needle on my Viking and sharpen the rotary cutter blade, full of warm fuzzies. It wasn't until an hour or so later that I realized... Wait a minute! What happened? Did he just blow me off?
But, the old Hubster takes the cake. When I told him I was going to Paducah, he visibly blanched. Knowing he doesn't like to be left at home alone without me, I showed him the invitation from the quilt guild and said I could sign him up, too. “We could make it sort of a mini-vacation for the two of us.”
“Kari, you're talking about going to Paducah. Where is Paducah?”
“In Kentucky! Isn't it unbelievable? And our hotel is an hour outside of Paducah, so I'll have a two whole hours of quilting on the bus every day! I think I'll bring along that nosegay appliqué project. It won't be so bulky to carry around the show.”
“Kari, you're talking about going to Paducah -- on a Greyhound bus!”
“I know!!”
“Let me think. Paducah on the Greyhound; Paris on the Concorde. Decisions, decisions.”
“Paducah is a lot cheaper than Paris on the Concorde!”
“Not after you buy fabric, it isn't.”
“Okay, then come for the fun of it! These people are wild! We hardly let up; it's just one thing after another!”
“You go ahead without me. And when you come home, I want to hear all of you wild show-goers say, 'Hey, look a the quilt block I had tattooed on my behind!'”
Only he didn't say "behind", opting instead for a more colorful, three-letter, biker-type term. As you know, Harley-Davidson aficionados are another segment of society that suffers from faulty preconceptions. We feel each others' pain.
So, I got to thinking... This is sort of like a challenge. I like challenges! I've done a few in my guild before, and it's basically what I do whenever I design a new piece. As a starting point, I give myself an outline of what I want included in the quilt, then I design the rest of the quilt around that. Of course, there's no greater challenge than finding a wadded-up UFO stuffed amid scraps in a project box, it's original plan long-forgotten. That just happened this week, so there are border workbooks and art magazines strewn about as I scheme this one out. But I digress...
And that brings us back to the discussion we began last time. Are quilters being stereotyped by the non-threadies of the world? Do the lintless curl their lips in distaste as we dash for the TV when the theme song for Love of Quilting opens? Is there a basis in fact for the standard of stodgy when talking about the American-as-apple-pie quilter? I think not!
A call to arms stands before us. I have ordered quilt block temporary tattoos. And, I have designed a pattern for a quilt-y thong. Ladies, and you adventuresome men quilters, give me a call. We need to be distributing these far and wide! Let 'em laugh at us now! We are QUILTERS, and wildly, wackily proud of it!
Copyright © 5/21/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
In Defense of Quilting as Excitement, Part 1
There was a time in my life when I considered that riding a stationary bike was straight from "Boredom: The Ultimate Guide". A girlish figure required running, biking, swimming, and weight training, not to mention meticulous scheduling efforts to get in jazzercise, tennis, and golf. And the pay-off? Are you kidding? Abs of iron and buns of steel speak for themselves, especially in the double-takes at poolside.
The Young Mother Years took up where the Stair Master left off. There was no time nor need for racquetball when the laundry room was in the basement and the playground equipment a veritable Iron Man course. The term "double-tasking" sounded like a day at the beach. Have you ever seen a mother walk from room to room with empty hands? It's a waste of energy to forgo the opportunity to put something away where ever you pass. My method of coping was to wait it out. Fortunately my husband and I had agreed to stop procreating at two children, the point at which we had run out of parents.
Finally my first goal was met - all day/every day school for both kids. After about a week at home alone, I started to consider my next move. I'm still not clear on this point, but somehow I fit in a second career, and I have a vague recollection of enjoying it immensely. Let's see, I went back to school, created a partnership, and opened a business. I had an office then, so the kids could say, "My mom has an office," which made me a little bit easier to explain at school. The "my-mom-keeps-a really-clean-house" boast had been challenged on the playground. But, as things happen, we closed our business and moved on. It was then I decided to teach myself to quilt.
Big mistake.
I am not the woman I once was. The size of my behind no longer concerns me, but I'm obsessed with the size of my between. Today, equipment-shopping means taking a good, hard look at the hand braces in the drug store instead of the ankle weights in the sporting goods store. My joy was even more complete the day I bought one of those lighted 6x magnifying glasses to hang around my neck. New horizons opened for me in the world of appliqué! Hubba, the wet blanket, insisted I show him the box in which my dear toy was packaged, using an intervention approach to break through my denial.
"Look at the models on the box! They have white hair, and they are sitting down, sorting stamps."
“Your point being...?” I certainly wasn't going to be quilting on, say, a stationary bike.
And so went my descent into the bowels of an obsession. The sirens began to call:
Rotary blades, 10 for $29!
Come see the new batiks!
Have you tried triangles-on-a-roll?
I know how to get pencil marks out of muslin..."
What's more, I have been to Paducah, and dream of Houston and Lancaster. I paid a fortune for a small old sewing machine my mother couldn't get rid of fast enough when she was my age. And, the only thing that still fits me from firmer days is my thimble.
One day on the way to the quilt shop, I was stopped at the light when a young, nubile lovely jogged past, her headphones on and large dog leashed. I turned to my daughter and said, "Man, does that ever look like a boring way to spend time."
"Mother, you quilt.”
“You know, you guys haven't been very good at making your points lately. What's yours?”
“Let me explain. Don't be shocked, but there are many people who would consider quilting as a boring way to spend time."
When will the world stop stereotyping quilters? Threadies with wild lint in your veins: UNITE! We need more of a WOW factor. Stay tuned. My quilting adventures themselves have provided the perfect answer.
Copyright © 5/14/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
The Young Mother Years took up where the Stair Master left off. There was no time nor need for racquetball when the laundry room was in the basement and the playground equipment a veritable Iron Man course. The term "double-tasking" sounded like a day at the beach. Have you ever seen a mother walk from room to room with empty hands? It's a waste of energy to forgo the opportunity to put something away where ever you pass. My method of coping was to wait it out. Fortunately my husband and I had agreed to stop procreating at two children, the point at which we had run out of parents.
Finally my first goal was met - all day/every day school for both kids. After about a week at home alone, I started to consider my next move. I'm still not clear on this point, but somehow I fit in a second career, and I have a vague recollection of enjoying it immensely. Let's see, I went back to school, created a partnership, and opened a business. I had an office then, so the kids could say, "My mom has an office," which made me a little bit easier to explain at school. The "my-mom-keeps-a really-clean-house" boast had been challenged on the playground. But, as things happen, we closed our business and moved on. It was then I decided to teach myself to quilt.
Big mistake.
I am not the woman I once was. The size of my behind no longer concerns me, but I'm obsessed with the size of my between. Today, equipment-shopping means taking a good, hard look at the hand braces in the drug store instead of the ankle weights in the sporting goods store. My joy was even more complete the day I bought one of those lighted 6x magnifying glasses to hang around my neck. New horizons opened for me in the world of appliqué! Hubba, the wet blanket, insisted I show him the box in which my dear toy was packaged, using an intervention approach to break through my denial.
"Look at the models on the box! They have white hair, and they are sitting down, sorting stamps."
“Your point being...?” I certainly wasn't going to be quilting on, say, a stationary bike.
And so went my descent into the bowels of an obsession. The sirens began to call:
Rotary blades, 10 for $29!
Come see the new batiks!
Have you tried triangles-on-a-roll?
I know how to get pencil marks out of muslin..."
What's more, I have been to Paducah, and dream of Houston and Lancaster. I paid a fortune for a small old sewing machine my mother couldn't get rid of fast enough when she was my age. And, the only thing that still fits me from firmer days is my thimble.
One day on the way to the quilt shop, I was stopped at the light when a young, nubile lovely jogged past, her headphones on and large dog leashed. I turned to my daughter and said, "Man, does that ever look like a boring way to spend time."
"Mother, you quilt.”
“You know, you guys haven't been very good at making your points lately. What's yours?”
“Let me explain. Don't be shocked, but there are many people who would consider quilting as a boring way to spend time."
When will the world stop stereotyping quilters? Threadies with wild lint in your veins: UNITE! We need more of a WOW factor. Stay tuned. My quilting adventures themselves have provided the perfect answer.
Copyright © 5/14/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
“Measure Twice, Cut Once” in the New Millennium
I contend that the recent resurgence in the popularity of quilting is due to modern cutting methods. Their accuracy produce more successes, and if one is successful, one is more apt to repeat the process. A by-product of this is the contemporary penchant for buying new fabric for each project, and throwing away large chunks of unused fabric. In the old days, quilters created exclusively from what you might find in the trash bin after a guild workshop. I've mentioned Mrs. Clausen's quilts before. She is my beacon for using what we already have to its best effect. Of course, her goddess-like natural abilities at quilting didn't hurt, either. She was accurate well before any of us knew the name Olfa. The gifted ones like her kept the art and design end of quilting from dying out altogether.
These days, we tend to think of making quilts using 44-45” strips, which we cut and sew together in a variety of ways, then cut into new pieces and sew together again. A Double Irish Chain is a snap using this method. It's a new way of thinking, and for many it's the only way of thinking. Examining a quilt's design now includes how to get the thing pieced quickly by using our practical new methods. This results in a whole new segment of the industry – Quilt In A Day projects by Eleanor Burns (no relation – I'm not that perky and nice); quick quilt and fat quarter instruction books that can be found everywhere; comparisons of the best acrylic rulers and rotary blade sharpeners which dominate many quilting discourses; sewing machines that can now embroider handmade-looking redwork blocks; and classes on techniques that take the math out of quilting and instruct us on how to fake an appliqué.
It's all good, but some of us just can't get the hang of it. For me, it's probably the fallout from having The Peg as a mother. Perhaps she calculated that I'd be kept busier longer if she had me cross-stitching on pieces of small-checked gingham than she could if she taught me how to use the pattern stitch dial on her tan Singer 400. Mothers of five have their own notions of practicality.*
Into this new market came the Square in a Square Ruler®. If you don't know about it, it's kind of a puny thing, as acrylic rulers go. Looks, as they say, can be deceiving. I bought mine in a zipper-type bag with the instruction/pattern book along with it. I don't know if Jodi Barrows, the genius who thought this whole thing up, still sells them that way, but you can find out all about the dang thing at http://www.squareinasquare.com/ Compared to my 24" x 8" behoomath , I didn't think I'd be using this one on a whole length of folded fabric right off the bolt. Kathy, the woman who taught the Class of April 1997 at Country Calico (St. Olaf, Iowa – one of my very favorite quilt shops**), was skilled in teaching the technique. She told us she now sees the world in Square in a Square®, and her enthusiasm certainly caught my interest. After we made a block, which has since become a pillow in the guest room, I was ready to try my hand at this at home, unsupervised.
Tad got the full-sized effect of my Square in a Square® talents. I made a Revolving Star right out of one of Jodi Barrows' books, using solid navy blue and a couple of Civil War reproduction fabrics. There are (sit down) ninety-two pieces in each of those Revolving Star blocks, and all I did was cut some strips, sew 'em back together like the book said, then cut 'em up another way and sew 'em back together. Amazing. Unlike Kathy the Teacher, I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I just have really good reading comprehension skills. The thing covers Tad's extra-long twin bed, and every time I look at it, I try to recall how I made it happen. I'll have to try it all again someday. I have the ruler, and the deftness of using it comes from the pages of Jodi's book.
But the priceless nouveau piece of my quilting techniques library is what I call the “Trust Me Card”. It's real name is the Fons and Porter's Perfect Binding Card, and is true to its promise. The first thing you'll see on the front of this heavily laminated, school-bus yellow card is “Liz's Lumpless Finish” technique. Under the first tip, she states, “Allowing ¼“ extra space is critical. The binding tends to stretch as it is stitched to the quilt. Trust me, if folded ends meet at this point, the binding will be too long for the space after the ends are joined.” I added the italics for emphasis, hence my nickname. I just thought it was so down-home of her to plead for my faith in her experience. Yeah, right. Hello? Who has a quilting show on Iowa Public Television, and who is sitting in her dining room behind her Viking, with the cutting mat set up on the kitchen island? I think I can trust Liz. (Find out for yourself at www.fonsandporter.com.)
I guess I like to prove to my myself that I can do things like Square in a Square®, but my own personal satisfaction comes from the Clausen Method. To me, sewing machines were meant to go forwards (and backwards, if you want to get fancy), and I like slowing down to fussy-cut things by hand. That makes the design something I can talk about. I know how to get my creative juices flowing, but I see the wisdom in experimenting with new stuff.
Otherwise, how would I know to yell, “Halt, THEIF!” when someone absent-mindedly walks my Trust Me Card out of sight?
------------------------------
*To her credit, The Peg could see in me what I needed brought to the surface. My native interest ,combined with my desire to be as good at textile construction as my sister Jeanie, assured her I was hooked. By the way, Jeanie is still at it. She can drag her eye across a set of raw materials and have a dimensional creation in no time. My hero.
**Country Calico Fabrics is located at 19035 Depot Road, St. Olaf, Iowa, 52072. Ph. 563-783-2445. Owner Mary Ann Keppler has a collection of fabrics that is like going through your own personal stash. She is gifted in the way she buys fabric – not in whole collections from a particular line, but in a way things work together if you use your own imagination. She encourages us to explore our inner design selves.
Copyright © 5/7/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
These days, we tend to think of making quilts using 44-45” strips, which we cut and sew together in a variety of ways, then cut into new pieces and sew together again. A Double Irish Chain is a snap using this method. It's a new way of thinking, and for many it's the only way of thinking. Examining a quilt's design now includes how to get the thing pieced quickly by using our practical new methods. This results in a whole new segment of the industry – Quilt In A Day projects by Eleanor Burns (no relation – I'm not that perky and nice); quick quilt and fat quarter instruction books that can be found everywhere; comparisons of the best acrylic rulers and rotary blade sharpeners which dominate many quilting discourses; sewing machines that can now embroider handmade-looking redwork blocks; and classes on techniques that take the math out of quilting and instruct us on how to fake an appliqué.
It's all good, but some of us just can't get the hang of it. For me, it's probably the fallout from having The Peg as a mother. Perhaps she calculated that I'd be kept busier longer if she had me cross-stitching on pieces of small-checked gingham than she could if she taught me how to use the pattern stitch dial on her tan Singer 400. Mothers of five have their own notions of practicality.*
Into this new market came the Square in a Square Ruler®. If you don't know about it, it's kind of a puny thing, as acrylic rulers go. Looks, as they say, can be deceiving. I bought mine in a zipper-type bag with the instruction/pattern book along with it. I don't know if Jodi Barrows, the genius who thought this whole thing up, still sells them that way, but you can find out all about the dang thing at http://www.squareinasquare.com/ Compared to my 24" x 8" behoomath , I didn't think I'd be using this one on a whole length of folded fabric right off the bolt. Kathy, the woman who taught the Class of April 1997 at Country Calico (St. Olaf, Iowa – one of my very favorite quilt shops**), was skilled in teaching the technique. She told us she now sees the world in Square in a Square®, and her enthusiasm certainly caught my interest. After we made a block, which has since become a pillow in the guest room, I was ready to try my hand at this at home, unsupervised.
Tad got the full-sized effect of my Square in a Square® talents. I made a Revolving Star right out of one of Jodi Barrows' books, using solid navy blue and a couple of Civil War reproduction fabrics. There are (sit down) ninety-two pieces in each of those Revolving Star blocks, and all I did was cut some strips, sew 'em back together like the book said, then cut 'em up another way and sew 'em back together. Amazing. Unlike Kathy the Teacher, I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I just have really good reading comprehension skills. The thing covers Tad's extra-long twin bed, and every time I look at it, I try to recall how I made it happen. I'll have to try it all again someday. I have the ruler, and the deftness of using it comes from the pages of Jodi's book.
But the priceless nouveau piece of my quilting techniques library is what I call the “Trust Me Card”. It's real name is the Fons and Porter's Perfect Binding Card, and is true to its promise. The first thing you'll see on the front of this heavily laminated, school-bus yellow card is “Liz's Lumpless Finish” technique. Under the first tip, she states, “Allowing ¼“ extra space is critical. The binding tends to stretch as it is stitched to the quilt. Trust me, if folded ends meet at this point, the binding will be too long for the space after the ends are joined.” I added the italics for emphasis, hence my nickname. I just thought it was so down-home of her to plead for my faith in her experience. Yeah, right. Hello? Who has a quilting show on Iowa Public Television, and who is sitting in her dining room behind her Viking, with the cutting mat set up on the kitchen island? I think I can trust Liz. (Find out for yourself at www.fonsandporter.com.)
I guess I like to prove to my myself that I can do things like Square in a Square®, but my own personal satisfaction comes from the Clausen Method. To me, sewing machines were meant to go forwards (and backwards, if you want to get fancy), and I like slowing down to fussy-cut things by hand. That makes the design something I can talk about. I know how to get my creative juices flowing, but I see the wisdom in experimenting with new stuff.
Otherwise, how would I know to yell, “Halt, THEIF!” when someone absent-mindedly walks my Trust Me Card out of sight?
------------------------------
*To her credit, The Peg could see in me what I needed brought to the surface. My native interest ,combined with my desire to be as good at textile construction as my sister Jeanie, assured her I was hooked. By the way, Jeanie is still at it. She can drag her eye across a set of raw materials and have a dimensional creation in no time. My hero.
**Country Calico Fabrics is located at 19035 Depot Road, St. Olaf, Iowa, 52072. Ph. 563-783-2445. Owner Mary Ann Keppler has a collection of fabrics that is like going through your own personal stash. She is gifted in the way she buys fabric – not in whole collections from a particular line, but in a way things work together if you use your own imagination. She encourages us to explore our inner design selves.
Copyright © 5/7/2005 Kari E.O. Burns
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