3D Improvement

It has always struck me as odd that the glorious quilts of the 1800's managed to achieve their glory by remaining entirely two dimensional, while an earnest pursuit of many quilters since has been to achieve a three dimensional effect. Many times the pictorial quilts I see look similar to paint-by-number works of the 1950's and 60's--little shapes filled with bits of solid color. In the last decade, of course, the effects of thread painting, as well as, um, painting, have made quilts look a lot more three dimensional and naturalistic. For those who seek that effect, it is a glorious time to be working.

For me, I have always wanted to make it clear that my quilts were intended to be seen as two dimensional objects, (even though a quilt is technically three dimensional.) In other words, I am making a design on fabric and I want it to be seen as that, not to be seen as a fabric painting.

All that is prelude to the big lips above. One of my top two or three favorite artists of all time, Man Ray, was an all round kind of artist. He is well known as a photographer, and he made his living from both art photography and commercial work. But he was also a painter and sculptor. Man Ray was part of the Surrealists in Paris throughout the 1920's and 1930's. He made many paintings, but his best known painting by far is the one called "A l'Heure de l'Observatoire: les Amoureux," a giant pair of lips spread across a clouded sky. 

When I heard this painting and a number of other works were coming to San Francisco for a show, I decided to make my own pair of lips on a quilt, then, to make it my own, to spread a cloud of short bias tape strips over it. One day in my studio, I noticed some red bias strips, and I realized I could double the black strips with the red, in a way that would resemble the 3D effect of movies when you look at them without the special glasses. That way I could ironically point out that I had "improved" l'Heure de la Observatoire  by making it 3D. 

Hence, "Observatory Time, Improved." 

Making and Remaking

I have been writing about this project all summer it seems. I started out with the quilt on the left, the one I wrote about last time. I was very happy with it until I found out the black fabric on the back was going to run all over the place, that it would become the Usain Bolt of fabrics. So I decided I would make another one, a new road with new stick figure skeletons all over it. In this picture the new one was just out of the long arm frame. I quilted both with the same idea of many small picture frames, like those on a wall of ancestors and family photos.

The hard part, I found, was to stay present, to remain emotionally engaged during the remake. As I have said so many times before, you can do anything with a quilt, but each cut and each seam and each quilting stitch has to be the most important thing in your world. I always go off the rails when I think I can just cruise along doing anything, without committing fully to the moment.

I worked at it, however, and used the weird skill of skeleton/stick figure making I had acquired making the first one to choreograph slightly crazier and slightly more conflict fueled actions. I even have a small battle of sorts in the upper middle where the curve is so tight I wasn't sure I could make everyone fit. Maybe because I have teenagers at the moment, or maybe because it is a presidential election year, I had no trouble hooking into a feeling of conflict and weariness in those characters.

Now I do not know what will happen next, only that I have two quilts to deal with now where I meant to have only one. It is possible that I could use this as a starting point for a series of skeleton quilts, but I think I want to go somewhere else with my next quilts.

When I start to get discouraged about things like this, the world will often tell me what to do next.  This time I got a message from the Shelburne Museum that the director had signed off on buying my quilt that is on display there, "The Rule of Three."

This is a quilt I made only for myself, based on some ideas I had about memory, longing, and certain fabrics. Maybe that is the way to go: making things only to please myself. Hmmm.

My Latest Mistake

As I have mentioned before, I love the entire process of making a quilt. Every step is absorbing and rewarding. I like washing and ironing fabric before I bring it into my studio, I like the cutting, the sewing, the quilting and the binding. Here on my latest quilt, however, I goofed. This fabric is supposed to be snow white--it was snow white when I appliqued these 83 skeletons onto it. But the morning I had a date to take it to the quilting machine and quilt it, I realized I had not made a backing for it. That's when I went wrong.

Standing in the corner of my studio was a pole with a 12' x 12' piece of black brushed denim I had bought one time to use for a background on some photos. As I said, I always wash all the fabrics before they come into my studio. But this one had not needed washing, since I was going to use it only for photography. Anyway, I forgot that little piece of information in my hurry to get to my quilting date. I quickly cut the black down to backing size and ran out the door with it.

To make matters even more interesting, when I posted a picture of the finished quilt on my facebook page, an internet friend offered to buy it, instantly. Wonderful! He would take possession of it in September. I could therefore take it on my lecture trip to the east coast and show it off before I sent it away forever.

Back home, however, I noticed that the humidity in the east had made something peculiar happen around the edges of the quilt: the black color seemed to be running. That was when I realized how badly I had messed up. Wondering just how bad it was going to get, I made a little sample using the same fabrics and sprayed some water on it. The black bled through immediately.

I tried many methods to try and get the backing to stop giving off dye, but in the end I had to admit that the quilt was ruined, and would never be the quilt I had envisioned, the quilt I had in fact made.

There might be some way to salvage it yet, to make it into something I can live with. But for now my plan is simply to start over, remembering all the while how much I enjoy the process and how thankful I am to have the opportunity to make an even better version of my idea. I just have to remember not to grit my teeth.

Because they have mounted an exhibition in the Whatcom Museum, my friends Bob Shaw and Julie Silber and I have decided to have an all-day fun day of quilts in Bellingham, Washington this September. We will all give lectures both informative and amusing, guided tours of the show, Q&A sessions and more. If you live anywhere in Washington state, you won't want to miss this special day. 

A complete day of quilt activities for $95
http://www.quiltadventure.com/

 Registration is limited,

so sign up soon. Prepayment is required.

If the event is cancelled for any reason,

your payment will be returned to you.

Robert Shaw, Julie Silber and Joe

Cunningham present a Quilt Adventure at the

Whatcom Museum in beautiful Bellingham,

Washington, site of the groundbreaking exhibition

American Quilts: The Democratic Art, based on

Bob's book of the same title. Let Bob, Julie and

Joe give you an insider’s look at the show itself,

and explore the history, art and meaning of

American quilts and quiltmaking, from the early

1800s to the present.

Enlightening, entertaining, endearing, everything you

ever wanted to know about quilts. From the walkthrough,

guided tour in the morning through the

fascinating presentations by three of the best-known

quilt authorities in the country, the entire day is

designed to give you memories for a lifetime.

Join us at the Whatcom Museum for an unforgettable

Quilt Adventure III.

What: Guided tours, lectures, Q&A, More

When: September 15, 2012

Where: Whatcom Museum, 121 Prospect Street,

Bellingham, Washington, 98225

Time: 9:30AM-4:30PM

Schedule:

9:30-12:00 Guided tour with Julie and Joe, illustrated

lecture by Bob: American Quilts: The Democratic Art

Lunch break

1:00-4:30 “Keeping Em In Stitches: America’s

Funniest Quilts,” Julie

“Or, You Can Do Anything You Want,” Joe

“A History of the Art Quilt,” Bob

Q&A with all.

Desperately Seeking

Now I have to quilt it. It was a lot of fun to feel like a choreographer as I came up with new poses for my little skeletons all around the quilt. Some are barely holding on by their fingernails, some are blithely strolling, some skip, some leap, some lie down and some plod. It gave me great pleasure to think of them as my ancestors, the innumerable, unknowable ones who came before, whose parade I will join someday.

I never like to have a simple quilting grid, especially something that comes from traditional quilting designs, because I feel that if I am going to do something completely new with the design of the quilt, I should do something completely new with the quilting. In that regard I am still deeply traditional. That is, I like to take the quilting seriously as a separate design element on the quilt, not as an element there only to complement the design of the top. I have many friends in the world of quilts who think of the quilting design as something supplementary, something more or less like a necessary evil. To me the quilting design is one more chance to put my own stamp on my quilt. I want it all original.

This one, however, is a real challenge--primarily because the white space is so undefined and open. I have not yet found the right approach. Sometimes it is good to be flummoxed, as it is only when you are desperate, devoid of ideas that you can be in the frame of mind to attempt something radical, something completely different. I am just about there. Every day I think of the possibilities and return instead to writing projects, music projects and family projects. Desperation is sure to set in soon.

Halfway Home
Thinking of my first experience with an actual image--my house quilt called "1871"--I had the idea that I could maybe try another quilt with a recognizable image, or a series of them. The idea that came up for me immediately was this sort of road with skeleton-like figures working their way along it, like my long line of ancestors...like the road of life...like a bunch of ants or something. I don't know exactly what. But the idea fit my way of working, so I stuck with it.

What I mean is that this is how I like to work: I have a vague idea of how something might look. In this case, "a sort of road with little figures all along it." Then I started in by creating a meandering line. I let the line create itself by starting with a length of bias tape and just sewing it down until I reached the end. At the end, I built a little stick figure. Then another and another. Each figure is a new composition, another challenge to find the right pose, the right proportions and etc. After a while they seemed to take on lives of their own, more or less telling me what to do next.

In this way I did not have to plan each detail, but rather to discover each detail...I like to find out what the quilt will look like by making it.

"This is all well and good," you might say, "But what if you don't like what it looks like when you are done?" Fair question. The fact is sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. But I don't have to like something to like it! That is, I am always surprised by some aspect of the finished quilt. On this one I see that the large negative space in the middle is going to be a lot more significant than I thought, so I will have to contend with that with the right approach to quilt designs. Okay. It gives me a new challenge and it sparks a new direction of thought. That is what I am looking for here: new directions of thought.

So it is in doing the actual work that I find the new ways, the new means. The work is not an expression of what I have discovered elsewhere.

I have been held up for a couple of days by my need to prep more materials. I have to cut the many small bits of bias, then fold and glue the ends so they don't ravel. Now I have them and I can tackle my next crew of figures. It looks to me like I am about halfway to the end. See you there.

Quilts and The Blues

March 31 I was in Los Angeles to give a lecture on the opening night of my show at the Craft in America Study Center. Because I like to talk about quilts and play guitar at the same time, I concocted a lecture called Quilts and The Blues, which I thought would give me an opportunity for some amusing comparisons, but which, when I started writing the thing, made me realize all sorts of new aspects of these two forms.

For starters, we have to remember that both forms grew out of existing traditions. Quilts arrived here as formal bedcoverings for the houses of the well-to-do. Blues music has roots in African, folk and gospel musical traditions. Also, they both grew and flourished during the period when the creators of them were excluded from positions of power in the culture.

Women, being legally excluded from owning property or voting, and excluded from the academic traditions of the of the arts, excluded from politics and any positions of power in the culture, created quilts which they chose to give away. With this gift economy, they were safe from the judgements, the interference, the market considerations that would have prevailed if they were trying to appeal to or be part of the academy or the intellectual or the business worlds. Under this neglect by the powerful, women were free to create.

Blues musicians, being seen in the last part of the 19th century and the first part of the twentieth as similarly extra-academic, economically superflous, concerned only with amusing friends and family with their semi-musical plinking and plonking, were also free to create.

The forms these two groups invented were community-owned patterns. The 12-bar form, the 3 against 4 rhythmic feels, the borrowings from African drones and gospel harmonies and improvisations--all these were malleable and infinitely variable.

Within these community patterns, the creators were free to do anything they could think of...and, come to think of it, they didn't even have to stay within the patterns. Anything could work as a blanket if you sewed enough pieces together. You could write a blues with any number of beats, bars, chords or subjects.

So it was precisely because of the neglect of the ruling class that these forms could grow and flourish. To demonstrate the infinite variability of quilt patterns I put together a Powerpoint presentation with 20 or so variations of Log Cabin patterns. For the musical variations I played a variety of blues songs from different artists, all of whom had created wild variations on traditional themes.

It was a blast, for me at least. It seemed like it went over well, and the whole experience made me want to work more on my book of quilt essays.