Is it form over function, or function over form? That's the chicken/egg dilemma over which I never struggle. I am a functional art quilter -- I prefer to make quilts that are unique, interesting, and used for napping. I'm not real nuts about seeing them hanging on a wall, but I don't mind tempting the urge.
Art quilting often competes with quilting as way to keep warm and feel the love. The functional art of choosing interesting fabric, cutting and sewing it accurately, and finishing it expertly is a thing of beauty in itself. Not everyone can do it well, even with today's rotary cutters, self-healing mats, mix 'n match fabric lines, and the rabble of books and classes. Today's methods increase the success rate of quilting, which encourages newbies to repeat the process, and with each successive piece, the quiltmaker improves in skill and confidence.
You rarely see a quiltmaker repeat an entire quilt verbatim, no matter how much pleasure that one quilt brought. The inner designer prompts us to move on to the next engagement. Some of us visualize and expand the possibilities of the lint before us. As we manipulate the fabric into our basic quilts, the fabric in turn manipulates our imaginations. “What if I...”, “I wonder how it would work if...”, “What this piece needs is...”
I love to learn new techniques, but seldom want to use one technique to make an entire quilt. I will use one to make a whole quilt, as I did with T-man's Civil War quilt and the Square in a Square Ruler® (“Measure Twice, Cut Once”). It's the best way to familiarize myself with what I can extract from one technique to infuse into another location. Once I acquaint myself with the newfound skill, I maneuver it into my subconscious and it shows up in my design process.
For example, I haven't taught myself Stack 'N Whack yet, but there are times I'd like to finagle that concept into something a little less predictable than the who-knows-what-you'll-get process of using large prints. I know, I know, that sounds confusing, because the whole Stack 'N Whack schtick is it's unpredictability. But if you think about it, we actually do expect something similar each time, we just don't know precisely how it will turn out. I won't know the possibilities myself until I bite the bullet and make a dang quilt that way. It will probably take a whole quilt to get it figured out, too.
The challenge of learning new techniques can be baffling and frustrating. That alone is what excites many quiltmakers, and I have to admire the drive to be technically exact. As with many art forms, there are as many different motivations to improve as there are people who are motivated. We have some true masters right here in Northeast Iowa, quiltmakers who win award after award, and are consistently recognized in quilting circles as being at the top of their craft. Learning and mastering these techniques can be tedious, but the tenacity of these crackerjacks is rewarded in their amazing results. It is nothing short of a phenomenon.
My good quilting friend Susan always comes to mind when I think of a quilting master and artist. She isn't motivated by winning ribbons or getting her picture in the paper, though I believe that would be inevitable if she chose that route. Instead, she uses what she knows to rouse others. She's a natural inspirer, and her comments throw open new windows of possibilities. Susan is the one who prompted me to enter the Thimbleberries® challenge while I was still in my novitiate. I don't spend enough time with her, even though she and Cindy and Linda meet fairly regularly on Monday nights to work together on their projects, sharing their time and observations. When I can go, I am always most pleased by Susan's insights, and with how long I carry them inside of me. She's that good.
Among her many talents, Susan can paper piece. In fact, she is a virtuoso, and passionate about what she can do with it, where it leads her. She once paper pieced a tulip that is only visible under a microscope – a wonderment! For some reason, I can look at and admire her paper pieced blocks for longer than it took her to make them. She will find square frames with little square cutouts to showcase her tiny blocks. Sometimes the frames themselves are bulky, and you'd think they would overpower whatever one put in the display opening, even when the opening appears to be an afterthought to the frame itself. Yet, she will place a delicate, tiny paper pieced creation there, and the effect is like finding a crocus in the snow in early spring.
I love this about Decorah, the pockets of creativity and the artists everywhere. We have come to expect them in the bluff country and pastures that surround us, aware of those who have abandoned themselves to their art, living by it and from it. But there is the unexpected layer of artmakers among the office personnel at Luther College, behind the stylist's chair at the beauty shop, or in the milking parlor at the dairy farm. There are stay-at-home-moms and dads who write, sew, sculpt, saw, and paint between loads of laundry and during nap time. They are members of every congregation, from the Lutherans to the Quakers, the Catholics and the Unitarians, and there are also those bearing fruit in their studios on Sunday mornings. They may be waiting to retire, so they can do art all the time, but what is remarkable is that they aren't not doing it now while they wait it out. They do work for money, and do art for play.
It makes no difference whether it's form over function or function over form. In the Midwest, we value both, and we find a way to make the most functional of our needs artistic, and still make art to answer the need for enjoyment. I will make the most artsy of my thoughts into something that will keep someone warm. I'm not there full-time yet, so I'm taking my spot among other hidden artists in Northeast Iowa, letting my creativity sustain me. I know where I'm going, and I battle my own impatience as I allot each precious hour of the day to the reality of what must be done now. I am wise to practice the techniques that will broaden the scope of my imagination, to make function a part of my form. Or, is it the other way around?
I just inspired myself to go work on a quilt. Several years ago, one of the emeritus art professors in town got me going by asking about working on a Matisse-inspired splash of a quilt that... gotta go...
Copyright © Kari E.O. Burns October 2005
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