Resistance, Acquiescence, and then…Exuberance

 

“Uh, oh! Sorry, Sandy. You can’t use that.”

I looked aghast. “Why not?” I questioned.

“It’s not an art quilt! How is it a quilt? Please try a different approach.”

Last summer the “Design Group” to which I belong established its winter challenge: make a quilted piece that has at least three openings. Creative thought was necessary in constructing a complex textile with “openings”. We discussed at length the difficulties of the challenge and brainstormed ways openings could be made in a quilted piece. As I wrestled with the task I chose to think “outside the box” and envisioned a fabric lattice woven together, stitched and then decorated with flowering vines.

Excitement captured my imagination and I began constructing the piece. Technical difficulties were great and I was finding novel solutions. With still a few issues to be resolved I decided to share the beginnings of my project at the next meeting. Members were intrigued and complimentary but felt the word “quilt” would be a stretch. They coaxed me to start anew. Inwardly I mourned the sleepless nights and daylight hours spent planning and then testing my idea. When the meeting was over I felt empty and yet, I had to agree, “quilt” would be a stretch in defining my creation. My resistance evolved into acquiescence.

The creative side of my brain went on vacation so I focused on packing for our winter’s stay in Florida. I filled three shoeboxes with fabric, assembled fabric paints, acrylic inks, fusibles, batting and sewing accessories and stowed them in the Tahoe along with my machine. I refused to think about the challenge and sought supplies that might serve well in making wall hangings for our new home at Pelican Preserve.

Upon arrival in the south I set up an art studio in one of the bedrooms – a private workspace for sewing, quilting, painting, and writing. As I organized the room I realized how little fabric I had brought from PA. My collection consisted mostly of neutrals. The barren walls of our home begged for cover so I played with an idea and drafted a pattern on the computer. I chose fabrics to execute the design and sewed pieces together. I placed units on my design wall and stood back to study the work. Nothing was coming together. The piece was lackluster. There was no joy or excitement, only the motions of quilting.

In the back of my mind the group challenge kept screaming for attention. The brain is a truly remarkable organ. It was busy dealing with the complexity of the uninspiring piece I was constructing and also allowed me to ponder new avenues addressing the winter challenge. I kept brainstorming pictorial ideas featuring openings – keyholes, doorways, windows, pipes, etc.

During this time I was also busy tending the hibiscus plants in one of our flowerbeds, delighting in the subtle colors found in each bloom. I took snapshots and sent many back to family in PA. I organized an album on my ipad and enjoyed looking at the variety growing outdoors. Somewhere deep in the crevices of my gray matter a connection was made. A new idea was forming. I envisioned a wall quilt featuring these beauties. But how could I incorporate “openings”. This challenge again started interrupting my sleep. Finally a workable plan emerged. The blossoms would be stitched on a background of fencing in which there would be three openings.

I cleared the design wall; placed the uninspiring project in a box; and started afresh. I selected several photos of individual blossoms from my collection and printed them in black and white. From these images I drafted patterns so that each petal was a separate piece of fabric. My excitement was palpable until I searched through my fabric stash and found nothing suitable to execute my idea. With hordes of fabric filling drawers and shelves in the condo back north I was determined not to buy more. Then my eyes lit upon yardage of plain white cotton cloth. I decided to paint my fabric the colors needed. Using acrylic inks I blended yellows, pinks and reds on the wet fabric creating a multitude of hues and values for the petals. I assembled several blooms.

Weeks flew by as the vision took shape on the wall. Alas, it was time to return to the north. As yet I had no leaves or background upon which to attach the flowers. That would have to wait until I was resettled in the northeast. Upon arrival in PA I hurriedly reorganized my materials and got ready to paint more fabric. I mixed greens, yellows and blues to achieve natural colors for foliage. As the wall hanging took shape, enthusiasm soared. I was hooked, swept away with more ideas using techniques I had read about but never attempted.

I printed photos of fencing onto fabric. The hibiscus flowers were blah against it. I added white details to the background and suddenly the blossoms “popped”. Next I created openings in the fencing. Finally I stitched everything in place and quilted the piece. I studied the outcome as it hung on the wall. “This is an art quilt! No doubt about it!” I had met the challenge and grew so much more as a textile artist than had I continued on my original lattice project.

The Design Group gathered at my house earlier this week. Members shared their challenge projects. I was called on first. My peers were most complimentary about the wall hanging. I thanked them for their support and for pushing me to begin again. The small art quilt is the most original piece I’ve done from executing the design, painting the fabric, executing assembly and finishing. I had moved from resistance to acquiescence to exuberance and have my colleagues to thank for the journey.