The Dammit Doll

Perhaps the real title of this post should be "and then I lost patience." That seems to define so many of my choices lately. Diane Harris, of Stash Bandit Quilting, started it. She posted a picture of her pandemic doll, covered in writing, that she used to help work out some of her frustrations, what we've all felt over the last year. And I thought, what a great idea! After some angst about making a doll of my own, and how that felt like more work than I wanted to do, I remembered that I had blank dolls squirreled away in my fiber closet. (Of course I do, doesn't everyone?)

The problem was that she was flat white and that felt too harsh. I have fabric dyes, but that also seemed like too much work. I have tsukineko inks and pens, so I started with that. My plan was to sneak up on the color, diluting it in water, soaking the doll and getting a lovely peach tone. Well, then I lost patience. The ink wasn't taking. So I dragged out my Derwent Inktense blocks and started shaving them into the water. Now she has a sunburn and freckles.

When I was a little kid I loved making dolls. I always did their eyes last because I didn't want them looking at me while I was poking them. Having matured some since them, the face was the first to be embroidered. I toyed with buttons for the eyes, and then beads.

Diane's doll is quite primitive, covered with words of sadness and frustration. As cathartic as that seemed, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I hope my doll is going to lead me back to my creative self with a little bit of sewing every day.

So, embroidered eyes it is. And of course they are green, because mine are. She's a little lopsided, but then, aren't we all? And there she sat for a few days, nekkid and bald, while I thought about how to do her hair.

After considering yarn, and wool appliqued flat to her head, I ultimately chose to tear strips of fabric. I haven't had my hair cut since right before the shutdowns last year. (I've decided to hold off until March this year to see how long it can really get before I lose my entire mind.) The torn strips were then sewn down to another strip of fabric, which is about an inch wide and about five inches long. There are three rows of strips so my dolly can have a luxurious mane, and give me more choices for styling.

After my last post I've been contacted by several quilt teachers who are also struggling with depression. People who, for all to see, look like they totally have their shit together and haven't a care in the world. Let's find our way back together. 

I challenge anyone who is struggling with their creative mojo to clear a space, even a little one, and do one thing each day. Sew one seam, just sew two random pieces of fabric together, no plan. Make a mark on one page, a letter, a swipe, a fingerprint. Thread a needle, make a knot and make a stitch, any stitch in any piece of fabric that comes to hand. If more happens, that's cool. We fell in love with our art one tiny step at a time. Let's do that again. We can do that again.

When I turned on my machine yesterday, for the first time in many months, this is how it greeted me. Yeah, I know, I programmed that in, but I'd completely forgotten about it. Now I'm thinking it's time to look for my tiara. It has to be here somewhere. You better bet my doll will get one.

BERNINA Girl

That I needed a new sewing machine was clear. Instead of bringing me joy, I fought with and cried over that stupid Kenmore, the one that I'd paid good money for (more than $200 in 1990, a lot for the time) and expected so much from. Sewing was my haven from the insanity of raising four hyper boys, my quilts were the only thing I did that stayed done.

I asked around and everyone said I should get a Bernina. I didn't have a clue and about fainted when I saw the price tags for the first time. We were a single income family back then, more than a thousand dollars for a sewing machine was just unrealistic. But, I'm stubborn (actually, I prefer tenacious) and I had a very supportive spouse, so I started a little business of stenciling and faux painting, something very much of the times. After overhearing a quote of five hundred dollars, plus fabric (!), to make very simple valences, I hiked up my big girl pants and offered to do them for half that. Done and dusted!

My first Bernina was a used 1530, purchased in March of 1994. I was so thrilled with the precision that I took my first piecing project back to the store to show off what that magic machine let me do. They offered me a job! I credit that machine with giving me the right tool to get my career in quilting off to a great start. That machine would do anything I asked of it, leaving me free to explore new techniques and even create some of my own.

I have been trying to think of how many different Berninas I've had over the years and it made my head hurt. I've been blessed to be included, from time to time, in the loaner program, which has given me the opportunity to exploit the features of the newest machines. 

I've been a part of the Ambassador program since almost the beginning. It's a cool gig. We don't work for Bernina, but we do get perks, like loaner machines. But what I like most about being an Ambassador is having direct input on the development of new machines, their features and feet. (There are a couple of feet out there that I've had a hand in creating, cool beans, eh?) They really do listen to us (and you) as they work towards bringing new products to the market.

The old 1530 that launched my career, now more than twenty years old, is still chugging away, being loved my one of my sisters. Another sister sews on a 930 that I took in trade for teaching at a friend's shop (I really got the best end of that deal!) I helped one more of my sisters buy a Bernina of her own. (The other two sisters still have no interest in sewing, but hope springs eternal.) My two daughters-in-law, and my mom, sew on 707s that I found on ebay. (That's Amanda putting in a zipper like a pro.) Boy, those machines are little sweeties and they've been warned that I get first dibs if they ever decide to get rid of them.

If anyone had told me, back then, on the day I bought that machine, that I'd have an international career as a quilt teacher, that I'd publish several books, that I'd be on a national television show (more than once!), I would have laughed and laughed. I was just a mom who liked to make quilts, a little bit of a perfectionist (okay a lot, but I'm better now), pathologically curious, short on time but willing to find ways to make the most of those minutes. It all began with having the right tool for the job. Thanks, Bernina!

It's been an honor to be included in this blog hop. Be sure to check out the other BERNINA Ambassadors taking part. They are a stunningly talented group of crafters. (Don't quite know how I got in, but I'm going to enjoy it while I can!)

Monday March 20

Lynn Carson Harris harrislc@gmail.com

Kelly Ashton kelly@kellyquilter.com
Diane Doran info@dianedoran.com
Melody Crust melody@melodycrust.com

Tuesday March 21
Kathy Delaney kathy@kathydelaney.com
Christa Watson christa@christaquilts.com
Mandy Leins mandalei@gmail.com

Wednesday March 22
Sandy Fitzpatrick hissyfitz@earthlink.net
Beth Ferrier beth@applewd.com
Cheryl Sleboda cherylsleboda@gmail.com

Thursday March 23
Annie Smith annie@anniesmith.net
Lori Kennedy lckennedy@hotmail.com

Kari Carr kari@newleafstitches.com
Catherine Redford catherine@catherineredford.com

Friday March 24
Joanne Sharpe jzsharpe@yahoo.com
Cherry Guidry cherry@cherryblossomsquilting.com
Jenelle Montilone jenelle@trashn2tees.com

Back to work

I love everything about winter except for the short days. Well, I love everything about winter that can be enjoyed from the inside looking out. Since my inner child has been playing with matches for years, the colder weather suits me just fine. But the short, dark days take their toll and by Christmas I'm ready to hibernate. While it feels like I can sense every minute of daylight added to the days in January, it takes until the middle of February for me to be convinced that spring truly will come again. And then I begin to come back to life.

Stitching the long borders on A Fine Romance can be tricky. With dozens and dozens of pins holding the applique shapes in place it can be downright painful to do all the twisting and turning needed to stitch down the curvy shapes.

After cursing (and bleeding) my way through the side borders I decided to pin just half of the longer top and bottom border shapes in place. The empty end of the border can be folded up and pinned together to help reduce the bulk. The pinned end (you can see it behind the sewing machine) is rolled up too. It does make it easier to turn the border fabric, but it also stands some of the pins straight up. Ouch. A good book on my iPod helps to pass the time.

The diagram for the top and bottom borders seems to trail half way across the studio floor, the remaining motifs are spread out on the shorter table. I suspect that I will run out of leaves, I lost count somewhere along the way, and I may need to make a little more bias strips to finish up the vines. But I've pinned one end of the two remaining borders, and one of those has been stitched down. I've been listening to Alex Berenson's John Wells spy series. I have three more books in the series to go. I wonder if that will be enough to finish the borders.

Startitis and Finishitupism

They say the first step in recovery is admitting the problem. Fine. My name is Beth and I have startitis. I was blissfully in denial about this until my local guild started a UFO challenge. The winner from last year finished off TWENTY projects from her UFO collection. Ever so smug I though, who has so many unfinished projects? How does that happen?

Then it dawned on me that I have so many unfinished projects that I have CATEGORIES! Sure, it's just a sock (or three, the lower left is a mystery sock waiting for the final clue) in progress here, a knit-a-long cowl there (which I can't finish because the final steps haven't been released),

a sweater from yarn that I spun myself (never mind that I really don't like the yellow in the yarn, or that it's entirely likely that the sweater will be a.) too small and b.) I will likely run out of yarn before I finish the last sleeve.

And then there is the lace cardigan I started, also with yarn that I spun:

You can see how most of these projects fall into separate categories and therefore don't count against starting something new before something else is finished. Truly!

But then there is the quilty projects.

A Fine Romance is just two borders short of having the entire top done, but I can't decide if I want to do more embroidery embellishment, and then I can't decide if I want to do hand or machine embroidery. And this is a "work" project, not so now it is in a subcategory. The hard deadline was met, of having completed each step before publication, so in one sense, this project could be considered "done". (Feel free to co-opt any of these explanations if they help with your denial.)

And there is Christmas Yet to Come that needs to be quilted. It's at that awful, awkward stage where I am convinced that the very next thing I'm going to do will ruin it completely. Truthfully, I do need to take this slow because free motion quilting is hard on my neck and hands. (I am so lustful after BERNINA's new long arm machine that I often wonder what the going rate for kidneys is.)

If you've followed the blog for any length of time you might remember this project, from a class with Elly Sienkiewicz in Houston, um, a, four years ago? I love what I've done so far, but, well, just but. That's why it's not done yet. Plus it falls into the quilting category of "not work", so it can safely be ignored when ever deadlines loom.

And then there's this little wool applique project that I put together almost a year ago. See, then I was living in a hotel room, during the transition from Saginaw to Green Bay. I had no stash with me, and I panicked! I bought all the stuff for this sweet little table topper and then felt guilty/relieved to have a UFO in the room. (Yeah, I'm crazy, but you know exactly how I feel, so don't go getting smug on me!)



I had this great plan to finish these projects. A Fine Romance and Christmas Yet to Come will get my mornings, alternating depending on certainty of the next step. AFR is really in sort of a brainless sewing state, stitching down the applique, so I can put off that decision for a while, and the quilting on CYtC in small spurts will save my body. These are "work" projects, so I can consider myself at work while I work on them. The other quilty project will be my "away" projects. I've joined a guild and a bee, so I need project that are small enough to travel, right?

This all made perfect sense and gave me a wonderful sense of control and calm, until last week when I took a workshop with the guild on painting on silk.

Oh, yes please! I loved it, it was so much fun it just about took my breath away. My brains fell out of my ears and I ordered almost two hundred dollars worth of silk painting supplies. They arrive on Wednesday. And I haven't even mentioned the tapestry weaving I want to get back to.

I've decided that finishitupism (I've just noticed that a swear word suddenly appears in the middle of that word, one that seems perfectly appropriate) is just a symptom of January and will pass shortly. If I just hold on for a couple of weeks I can forget all about UFOs, the virtue of finishing and go blissfully back into denial. Wanna come with me?

A Change in Priorities

 

Just about seven months ago I rearranged the studio. Yeah, yeah, you all know how I like to sort things, and reorganize, but this time it was different. I took my beloved Bernina from her place of honor, front and center, and shoved her to the back wall of the studio. All to make way for my new obsession: weaving.

It made perfect sense at the time. Looms not only need floor space, but they also need enough room around them to handle the awkward task of warping. Plus, the light (and the view) is so much better on the other side of the studio, near all the windows.

Yesterday we moved my sweetie back to front and center. I've decided to sell the smaller floor loom (the Baby Wolf) and move the larger loom to the back corner. Keeping the larger, heavier loom will allow me to make rugs from all the bolts of fabric I have, leftovers from kits and project work for fabric manufacturers. (I just adore my rainbow of fat quarters and thread.)

After all, I have work to do. I've set some goals for this year, and all of them include quilting! Since my applique book with C&T is out of print, I'll be writing a new one, which I will self publish. I have a project to design and make for the Caribbean Cruise that I'll be teaching on in 2015 (more information here, and coming soon to the blog.) I have a large quilt project I've been itching to do that may or may not become a block of the month (you'll help me decide, won't you?).

Plus, there's this quilt I need to finish, and heaven knows I'll need the space to work on it. (I've almost finished the ditch stitching, I'll have to figure out which fill stitches to use very soon. It's the hardest part for me, the deciding.)

Hat Dance Hanging

Here's my Pilgrim/Roy Invitational Challenge quilt, hanging in a special exhibit at the American Quilter's Society show in Grand Rapids, MI! On my list of things to see at the show, I had to get special dispensation from the show organizers (Bonnie Browning herself took the picture) because the exhibit was labeled as no photography allowed.

Honestly, this is pretty much the only way one of my quilts will hang in a national show. Competition is just not my cup of tea. But thank goodness that there are so many quilters willing to show their quilts, or we would have nothing but vendors to see at a show.

Not that that would be a bad thing. Of course I checked out the vendors! I saw a fabric that I adored, and then didn't buy it because it wouldn't be enough to be the background for a queen sized quilt. Stupid, stupid! It would have been perfect for a smaller project. I can have such tunnel vision when it comes to purchasing supplies. Sometimes my need for an orderly stash really hampers my shopping.


I didn't see much that was new, but I did enjoy reconnecting with some old pals. I was heartened to see so many traditional style quilts and vendors. I thought that the modern quilters had pretty much run us out on a rail. But, it seems that we're still going strong, and maybe I will go back to designing new quilts and writing patterns.

One thing that did catch my attention was the brand spanking new Bernina sit-down quilting machine.  How long have we been asking for this? Only one of two machines currently in the US, I was able to sit and stitch for a bit, and it's lovely. It's quiet, and it has the capacity to use regular sewing machine needles as small as 70/10! For most quilting machines, it's 90/14 or bigger, and I know that folks do wonderful things with those needles, they've always been the deal breaker for me. But now... well, I guess it's time to start stuffing that piggy bank. They won't be available until next spring, so I'll have plenty of time to skim some cash off the grocery budget. (Don't read that sentence, Kent. I'm just kidding, really. Sort of.)