Once upon a time....

I was your typical busy career girl when I decided to make my first quilt. I didn't have a clue about the whole process. I had been sewing in one degree or another since I was five years old, thanks to my grandmother. She did some kind of sewing almost every single day of her life, or so it seemed. And naturally, I wanted to sew with her. So she taught me. Progressing from a few simple stitches to assembling craft panels printed with Barbie clothes, and then on to creating my own Designer Barbie Wardrobe, sewing was a major activity throughout my childhood.

At age twelve, I begged my grandmother to teach me to use her sewing machine and I made my first outfit. The following summer, and with great reluctance, my mother finally allowed me to move her sewing machine into my bedroom and I at the end of the summer I started my first day of eighth grade with an entire wardrobe of self-taught, self-designed, and self-made clothes. So did my little sister...

By the time I was in college, my sewing efforts began to slow down. Busy with other activities, studies, and later a career, eventually those four and ten yards for one dollar became three, four and eight dollars a yard. The cost, plus time, no longer warranted the logic when sales and end-of-season close-outs could be purchased for far less than making my own clothes. For many years, my sewing was left to the wayside with periodical desires to create something that could not be purchased. You see, I was an artist, and making things has always been very important to me. The act of creativity has always been my "release" and if I knew why we artists did such a thing, well that would be what my grandmother would call the $64,000 answer. Nevertheless, my sewing machine has always been a precious possession, even through years it was rarely used.

After completing a Master's degree and spending most of my adult life painting and drawing and then becoming a museum curator, most of my sewing has been purely function and necessity on those occasions it was employed. Periodically, I might want to create something special, but as a busy career woman those occasions were far and few between. When I did do those things, many times it was that need to create and feel the satisfaction of producing something, anything.

Most of my life I thought about making a quilt, after all what better way to utilize all those boxes of scraps and collected fabrics over an entire lifetime - just like every other seamstress in the world feels. But memories of Grandma making quilts revealed an image of myself, starting a project that was a lifetime endeavor. It was obviously a time-consuming process that I would never be able to complete in a single lifetime. After all, I already had so many things on my plate and more irons in the fire than I felt comfortable with. I will not start a project I can't finish...How in the world did all those grandmas in the world ever make all those quilts? I knew it was an integral part of their activities.

So, at thirty-five years old, the day came when I decided to tackle the feat. I certainly didn't need any materials. I had plenty of fabrics and scraps and an old comforter that was worn and tattered. It was time to do just that - recover that old thing and try my hand at a quilt. When it comes to creating a thing, I have my own way of doing it. I might find that I have to employ a few tried and true rules, learned or by accident, but I literally jump in and just do. That's pretty much how all my creative endeavors had been. If something goes wrong, all is not lost. Your creativity can fix it. And that's just what makes a thing unique and special. In every error, something intrinsically creative evolves. There I was. Dragging out all my scraps and fabrics and looking and thinking and wondering exactly where to begin.

Now, I had been aware throughout my life that women who sew made quilts. My grandma did, and, I knew others did as well. But, I was oblivious to the importance and significance of the activity, or the object, as a legacy developed by women until I worked at a museum. Every year we had a quilt show and it was one of our most popular exhibit themes. Apparently, quilts are serious objects for those who make them, I thought.

Growing up as a girl, they seemed to be something that served a purpose more than the act of creativity. Through these exhibits I saw that there were criteria of all types in creating a quilt. They weren't just blankets. Again, there I was with all my materials and not knowing where to begin. The only thing I knew at the time was you needed a design. Through those exhibits, I had become aware that there were an arsenal of designs to choose from. Off to the bookstore...

When in doubt there were always books. I'd learned everything I'd ever wanted to know from reading books. I was a lifetime student, or so it seemed, and even as a museum curator, the tradition was continued. Read, write, report, and pass on information. Even as an artist, it was reading, writing, and creating an object. I hoped there were some books available on quilting.... Wow! There were dozens of books on quilting! Again, where do I begin?

I had no idea, even then, how much research was before me. Flipping through each and every one, I finally decided on one that had lots of finished quilts. It also had dozens of different types and techniques to create and most important, it had patterns for every one. How on earth was I ever going to fit pieces together without a pattern, I realized. Meanwhile, back at the "ranch"...the artist in me always took inspiration and ideas from pouring over as many visuals as possible.

Eventually I purchased another book on historic quilts created mostly during the nineteenth century. This legacy of quiltmaking started to become very much alive..and fascinating. That's when I began to imagine the pioneer women engaging themselves in this form of function and creativity. I decided on the "Double Wedding Ring." However, the volume of pieces to sew together was too much for me. I copied the patterns, taped them together and made my own pattern so that it was a single arc instead of several units sewed together. I also decided that the amount of sewing might be reduced if it was a series of rings creating a center medallion instead of an entire quilt pattern. (It wasn't until a few years later that I learned that curved piecing and Double Wedding Rings were generally reserved for advanced quilters.)

Let the sewing begin! After numerous sketches and design possibilities, just like any other project I had ever done, the "masterpiece" was decided. With a few basic guidelines and a draft of my design, again, I jumped in to let the project guide me. At the time, I had a home with a huge extra room and floor space. It was easy to start cutting and spread everything out on the floor. How else was I to get all those pieces in just the right position? How else was I to know which pieces to sew together to get the exact patterning of colors I had planned? Somehow I did not remember Grandma's quilts being this involved. How in the world had she managed all this? All I remembered was her calm and patient stitching...It certainly did not feel that way to me. I was in the throes of creativity and the impatience to see a product was overwhelming - and stressful - but, grandly exciting...

Again, there I was ready for the next step of sewing them all together. The serger would be perfect, I thought. All the seams would be finished and clean. A blanket gets a lot of use. The reasonable thing seemed to have strong, tight seams. Since it was a medallion design, I started with the center rings. That went fine until smaller piecings were ready to be connected to become larger piecings. Connecting the units to become a full medallion started to become unwieldy and the curves were difficult to connect and the serger was not working for this purpose. No problem. I'll just switch to my regular sewing machine.

Let me tell you - by that time the whole thing was becoming a serious struggle and matching up curves and inset seams were becoming an increasing source of difficulty. No problem, I thought. In sewing, there's always some way to get it done. An error, no problem. I'm the creator here and what counts is getting it all together, making it look right, and enjoying the finished beauty. To make a longer story shorter, many difficulties and design changes later, I finally had something to see. There was no way I was going to heft these things together completely on the sewing machine. I couldn't even imagine how I was going to cut and piece the background fabric to the medallion itself. No problem, I thought. I'll just appliqué the medallion and the border to the background. A slower process, than I wanted, but no problem. In looking back, I didn't know a thing about appliqué either and it still shows...

Finally, to sandwich the thing together. At this point, it had become larger than the comforter I was going to cover. No problem. Just add "stuff around it." Not the same thickness? No problem. Just layer it up with more "stuff." Not quite square? No problem. Fix it with more border. And on, and on... Ah, time to quilt. Somehow, I am going to get this thing through the machine. I did, some. But it didn't take long before it was obvious, this thing was too large, and especially too thick to force through the opening of the machine body and needle arm. It was not going to happen.

No problem. I was reading, now in another book I had to purchase on constructing a quilt. The quilting can be done by hand. How on earth had those women stitched such small stitches in those quilts in the exhibit? My needle will certainly not take more than one stitch at a time. What?!? Eight to twelve stitches an inch? I felt lucky to get two per inch on this thing. This isn't working. No problem. I'll use my curved upholstery needle. I have the "masterpiece" stretched out on the floor. I can crawl on it with my hands and knees and stitch through the center areas without lifting the whole, heavy thing for every area. And, I can see what I have done and not done and keep all the layers flat..

Design change # 251! Quilt only around the designs so that they will puff up. The thing is certainly thick enough that it should be "nice and puffy." I won't be concerned about stitching the background areas as I am certainly fortunate to be able to stitch the main designs. Maybe, I'll be able to finish this before the end of the year... (It was years later that I learned this was a quilt to be "tied" rather than stitched since the stuffing was another blanket.)

Oh, praise glory! Bloody, sore fingertips and all. The binding is done and it's ready to go on the bed. If I hadn't been working out at the gym, I'm not sure I could have actually lifted the thing off the floor. It weighed a ton. Funny, I don't remember Grandma's quilts being this heavy... Six months of fastidious determination and muscle and that first quilt was on the bed - Christmas Day! And, what a beauty it was. Every error, every faux paux, every design change, every technical rule broken. What a beauty it truly was...

Three years later I decided to try it again. What is it they say.. a glutton for punishment? But this time, there's going to be an easier way. So it was the "Crazy Quilt" that stole my heart and with a shopping spree of embroidery threads, I was off to the races again. Compared to the first endeavor, this was a breeze. A little slow, but compulsively addictive to do the embroidery work.

When the time came to assemble a backing, I had learned many lessons before. This one already seemed a little heavy, so I will not use any "stuffing" and I 'm only going to tack it together. There would be no need for quilting since there was no filler to hold in place. Again, what a beauty! (It was also years later that I learned that this was indeed the typical construction of crazy quilts, much to my surprise...)

Since then, I've been self-taught in quite a bit more quilting work. And, I sometimes wish I had discovered it twenty years ago in lieu of painting and drawing. I've often marveled at all the quilts I could have made before now if that had been the case. I've also embarrassingly discovered how those first two projects would certainly not "win friends and influence people" in terms of technique and methodology or how certain things naively turned out to be "by the book."

I still commit the sins of quilting. Not everything results exactly the way I imagine it. Not everything fits or matches up perfectly. As a matter of fact, not all my techniques are exactly traditional, even still. But the one real thing that matters is that I did it. I am doing it. And the colors, the designs, the finished projects are exactly what they are and always have been in the history of quiltmaking - the creating of something lovely and beautiful and functional from leftovers and discards. What a fantastic way to release one's creativity!

Over the past few years, I've improved a great deal. I still don't see how so many quilters get the perfection they seem to get. But nonetheless, practice makes perfect and I still have so many quilts in my head that are screaming to become reality. My quilts aren't perfect, but they are beautiful to me. And, I've found many secrets that help to expedite the process and solve technical problems and its thanks to the many books that have already been published to help all of us.

The one book, I have yet to see was one that discovered the "Universal Pattern." It's the one process that has freed me to create whenever I want in much the same way I imagine the pioneer women sewing those scrap objects of form and function. To this end, this is a book that every quilter can enjoy and add to their arsenal of design and technique. I feel many times my errors and technical inconsistencies are unacceptable to those who have perfected such things. But, I have come to realize that even though my craftsmanship is not perfect, it is, at least, equal to many of the works of the pioneers. When I study their works, I'm amazed that their lack of contemporary tools and devices available to us today still resulted in quilts that were as excellently crafted as they were. They aren't all perfect. But I suspect their goal was excellent craftsmanship, just as ours is today. Yet, there is something quaint and enigmatic about the subtle inconsistencies and homespun quality of these works. Maybe it's just part of the folklore, the heritage of the pioneer woman. Maybe it really is her ability to develop hand sewing to the level that it was achieved. Nevertheless, it is the folk quality and strength of design that forever draws me to her work.

The "Universal Pattern" does not replace all the methods or techniques for all the quilts you may want to make, but it is a wonderful way to alleviate the hundreds of decisions and much of the work involved and will free you to just go with your creativity when you just want to "do." It eliminates the pressure of complete and planned design for every single project and gives you the opportunity to work on any block you want - whenever you want.

The more I "do," the more I just want to see what might happen if... The "Universal Pattern" allows me to do just that.