Someone asked me recently "What do you want most in the world, and what are you most afraid of?" What I want most in the world is a peaceful home. Sometimes to promote that peace I quilt. Sometimes to provide for that peace I don't quilt. Maybe I take a nap or take the kids camping. Maybe I handle errands or play too many games of Uno. But the quilting and the not quilting are two sides of the same coin. Peace. I guess that's my way of saying this quilt is taking a while to finish, and I'm ok with that.
If you had told me two years ago my quilting would look like this I'd have thought you were dead wrong. But we keep learning, surprising ourselves. I'm glad to have this outlet for experimentation, revolutionary shifts and whimsy. My work in health care is not like that. It's careful, practical, double checking, safe.
In art there is no safe. If I'm where it's safe, it doesn't feel like art anymore. And that's fine, quilting doesn't have to always be in art territory. When it does feel like art to me, I feel a little naked. A little like I've swum out too deep. I can feel like that in the middle of these stitching sessions, when I don't know what I will stitch next. And then I keep going and step back to look at it and I like it. That's the real magic of stitching like this. Seeing how without premeditation a story appears in thread, uncertainty becomes beauty. Straw into gold.
If you're in Portland and want to try it out yourself, come be a part of my class at Modern Domestic. I'll tell you all the little tricks I use to make this kind of magic happen. And you can turn your uncertainty into beauty too.