Matching the sofa

Much discussion on the Quiltart list this week about art that matches the sofa, and not surprisingly the consensus is that matching the sofa is bad -- bad decorating, bad decision-making, bad art.  Opinions included remarks like this:

"People who really love art buy what they like and then paint the wall to show the art at its best.  The color of the sofa is immaterial."

"I say do what you want and let the world match their sofas to your art!"

"I personally don't give much thought to how any of my paintings or art quilts will fit in someone's decor.  That isn't a criteria for how or why I create."

"I like what I like, I don't worry if it matches anything in particular."

Of course, matching the sofa is one of the great cliche/metaphors of the art world, shorthand for philistine consumers who don't appreciate genius.  But every time I hear it I think of my own true story.

I don't often do commissions but took one several years ago to make a quilt for a newly remodeled dining room.  The client liked a quilt in my portfolio and wanted me to do pretty much the same thing bigger.  She chose some colors (blues and beige/yellow) and approved a pile of fabrics.  I started piecing.

She called me up a few weeks later and said she had just bought a new sofa to go in front of the quilt wall, with purple in the upholstery, and could I add some purple to the quilt.  And also could I please put in a picture of her dog.

My first reaction, stoked with plenty of self-esteem-building discussions on Quiltart and other artist forums, was to say NO!  How dare you ask!  This would violate my self-esteem, my artistic integrity and everything else I hold dear!  And as for your #@&*! DOG....

My second reaction, after I thought about it for a while, was why not make her happy.  I was only partway in to the intricate piecing, and I had some beautiful purple batiks right in my stash that would go quite nicely with the fabrics we had already agreed upon.  So I incorporated a few purples into the piecing.  Then I searched the web for a line drawing of a labrador retriever, got it the right size for one of the patches, and embroidered it in the same color thread as the patch so you could barely see it.

I thought the quilt looked even better with the bit of purple, and it sure looked great with the new sofa.  (The sofa was actually more purple than is apparent in this photo.)

The clients were so happy with the quilt that they added a $100 tip when they wrote my check.

So I guess the moral of this story is, it's OK to match the sofa if you want to.

The challenge of challenges 3

I don't have good photographs to illustrate my very early experience with challenges and theme shows, but many of them were big helps to my artistic progress.  For instance, a challenge was my first entree into having my work displayed in public.  At the time (early 1990s) I had just discovered quilt shows and learned that you generally had to have photographs made for jurying.  This was more than I could cope with, but when my local fabric store decided to sponsor a fabric challenge with our local quilt show, I was delighted to realize that I didn't have to submit photos, just bring the quilt to the store at the appointed time.

You would buy a half yard of the theme fabric and it had to constitute at least 50% of the face of the finished quilt.  The first year I participated I won a judge's choice award (the prize: $0 and a cute little certificate, which I framed and hung in the bathroom for some years until its next paint job).  The third year, my quilt was really fine -- it still hangs in my living room.  (Some day I should resew the sleeve so the top edge isn't wavy.)

Spiral Nebula

I also participated in several challenges on the Quiltart list, which was one of the first and most vibrant of the online communities for quilts as art.  Our shows were virtual (which made me learn how to con my children into taking digital photos for me, since I didn't have a digital camera at the time).

This challenge was to illustrate an aphorism from Ben Franklin.  I like the quilt, but it was truly one-off.  It's one of only two or three representational quilts I've ever made, and the only element that has any relationship to anything else I've ever done was the use of words printed from my collection of antique wood type.  The cow came from a cheater cloth but Tim was entirely my own design; since I can't draw I was particularly proud of how he came out.  The cow's ear and tail are three-dimensional.

Ben on Tim

The quilt reads:  Tim was so learned, that he could name a horse in nine languages.  So ignorant, that he bought a cow to ride on.

the nine words for horse: hast, cheval, kon, pferd, hevonen, hest, equus, paard, caballo

Here's another one from the Quiltart list.  The challenge was to use only pink, black and white.  (I even dispensed with the white.)  I had been wanting to make a quilt with narrow pieced stripes, and when the challenge was announced I decided I might as well make it in pink and black instead of any two other colors.  The quilt subsequently was shown in an exhibit at a brick-and-mortar museum and won a prize.

Landscape 1: Pink on Black














You may notice a new twist in my description of how this last quilt came to be: for the first time, I responded to a challenge with something that was already on my to-do list.  I was beginning to decide that in a challenge, I shouldn't stray too far from my preexisting body of work.  I think that was a critical step in my journey as an artist, and I'll write more about that next week.




Update: I've linked this post to Nina-Marie Sayre's blog -- visit her to see what other fiber artists are up to this week.

Quilt virginity

Yesterday Karey Bresenhan, the head of Quilts Inc., which sponsors the big quilt show in Houston, posted a message to the Quiltart list.

She wrote:  "please…don’t jeopardize your chances at winning a ribbon by showing your work prematurely on your blog or Facebook page. The judges keep up with these pages, too, you know, and they really like to judge blind, which means they do not know who made the quilt. If your good news is spread everywhere (WITH a picture) then it’s going to be hard for them to maintain that necessary lack of knowledge. This could work to your detriment, folks. Although it is not illegal this year, I strongly recommend that you take those pictures down right away. We’ve had several judges complain already, so I feel pretty sure this loophole will close next year. In the meantime, it is in your own best interest to take down the photos."

Judging by some responses on the list to that message, I am not alone in feeling that this is wrong.

I understand that every show sponsor wants to have a lot of new work on display, and doesn't want its thunder stolen by work that has been seen a lot.  Some of the top shows require that quilts have not been shown anywhere else, and a few even require that they have not been seen on the internet.  But even Quilt National, famous (infamous?) for its strict virginity rules, doesn't prohibit people from showing their own quilt on their own website, blog or facebook page.

And apparently, neither does the International Quilting Association, the sponsor of the judged categories at Houston.  Yet people are being threatened that if they post a photo of their quilt, they probably won't win a prize.

I think this is kind of low.  If a show thinks it can get away with such a restrictive virginity rule, then it should announce it in advance.  People can decide whether they want to enter or not, with those conditions.

Now on to those complaining judges.  Having both juried and judged a bunch of quilt shows, I know that it's nice to come to the table in total ignorance, to see everything as if it arrived just yesterday on a spaceship from Mars.  You don't know who made it, you haven't seen it before.  But this is frankly impossible, even if you don't own a computer.

The quilt world is a small one, especially at the top.  The same people enter year after year, and those who follow the shows come to recognize their work and their styles.  Even if these people don't post their latest quilts on their websites, I'm pretty sure that many of us would know the maker.  




I knew this quilt was made by Kathy Nida, before I ever looked at the signage

If a quilt expert, who presumably has been to many, many shows and seen hundreds if not thousands of quilts, is asked to judge at Houston she knows she's going to see identifiable work.  If she feels that being able to identify even more work, thanks to her internet travels, would make her job more difficult, then perhaps she should voluntarily stop "keeping up with these pages" for a couple of months.  Or decline the honor.

But I have to go back one step and disagree with the very premise.  Karey suggests that if a judge knows the maker of a quilt, that quilt isn't going to win a big prize, but we all know that's not true.  If it were, then Hollis Chatelain and Caryl Fallert, just to name two among many of the easily recognizable usual suspects, wouldn't keep winning at Houston and Paducah.  

In the legal system, judges recuse themselves if they are close friends with the plaintiff or defendant, but if we asked quilt show judges to recuse themselves when they recognize an artist, we'd often have nobody left to choose the winner.  That's a standard of viriginity that would quickly put the quilt shows out of business.  

Internet friends 1

I'm reading a good new book this week called "Triumph of the City," by Edward Glaeser.  His point, to oversimplify just a bit, is that by getting people together, cities have enabled civilization to progress.  But I have been thinking about some remarks he made about technology.

A 19th century British economist named Jevons was the first to note that new and more efficient technology -- in his case, more fuel-efficient steam engines -- did not reduce consumption but actually increased it. Yes, it took less fuel to get from Liverpool to London with the new technology, but it also made a lot more people decide to get there, and ship more goods.  Jevons' Paradox explains, among other things, why storing your documents on a computer did not lead to the "paperless office," or why owning a fancy sewing machine means you're spending more time with your fabrics, not less.

In terms of communication, it explains why with virtually free and instantaneous internet capability, we spend more time, not less, on the internet communicating with friends, family, acquaintances and strangers.  When you upgraded from dial-up internet to DSL, did you double your online time, or even more?

But now the concept gets nicer.  Jevons' Complementarity Corollary, Glaeser tells us, holds that "improvements in information technology can lead to more face-to-face contact, because face time complements time spent communication electronically...  All those electronic interactions are creating a more relationship-intensive world, and those relationships need both email and interpersonal contact."

This paragraph led me to reflect on how the internet, or I should say, my internet friends, have been a powerful factor in my development as a fiber artist.  Some time in the late 1990s I discovered the Quiltart list, an email community that has somewhere over 2,000 people all over the world.  In its heyday, the list might have had 200 messages on a busy day.  For many subscribers, including me, the list was our only contact with like-minded people.  We traded news and gossip about quilt shows and quilt stars. We asked for and received advice on technical problems of all sorts: how to enter shows, how to apply bindings, how to paint or dye fabric.  We complained about unappreciative relatives, mean-spirited gallery owners, cheap potential buyers.  We kept up with others' divorces, diseases, tragedies -- and triumphs.

And as Jevons anticipated, after we got to know one another we started wanting to get together in person.  I remember one of the earliest lunches for Quiltarters at the Houston quilt show, organized by Robbi Eklow at a Chinese restaurant two blocks out the back door of the convention center.  And the first cocktail party that Karey Bresenhan, the mastermind of Quilts, Inc., held for Quiltarters at the 2004 Houston show.

walking toward the hotel for Karey's cocktail party, 2004

As I look back on my internet connections, I can point fondly to three people whom I first got to know online, and only after many years got to meet in person.  The first was Lisa Walton, from Sydney, Australia, whom I met at that first cocktail party of Karey's.  Having talked with her there, and known her from years of online posting to the Quiltart list, I felt comfortable arranging to visit her in 2009 when I got to spend a month in Sydney with my brother.  I had a wonderful day with her, met her husband, saw her studio and her outdoor dye operation, and while we talked, helped her fold hundreds of fat quarters to take to a show she was vending at.

Lisa's outdoor dye bench

Lisa's outdoor work table (it's Australia -- they work here year round)

Lisa's hand-dyed fabric, neatly folded

Hey, this has turned into quite a reminiscence.  I'll have to continue in a later post.  Meanwhile, maybe you can wonder about who my other two online friends were/are.   

Stealing your idea

Much talk on the Quiltart list this week about people who visit a vendor's booth and announce cheerfully, "I'm going to steal your idea!"  Everybody responded predictably, how awful.  But one person wrote something that bothered me:

When you do shows and gallery walks there is always the group of people who are there only to steal ideas. My DH was great at spotting those....the ones who stood outside the booth with a paper and pencil sketching off ideas since they knew cameras were not allowed. He would casually walk up to them and stand right in front of them, saying nothing. If they tried to move around him, he would casually move back in front of them. I don't remember that he ever said a word but they got the message.

I was bothered because I have been the person sketching something from somebody's booth, and I wasn't doing it to steal her idea.  I was doing it because something about the design or the pattern intrigued me, and sketching it was a good way to figure out just what was intriguing.  I do the same thing in museums, if I can't take a picture or buy a postcard of the picture I like, and indeed sketching is a time-honored method of appreciating the art on view in such venues.  In fact it would be a pretty pathetic museum or gallery walk or art show if no ideas ever made their way into viewers' heads, even without money changing hands.  And art history would be a lot shorter course if artists had never allowed other people's ideas to infiltrate their own sensibility and influence their work.

When I was the person making a sketch at this art show, I never sold a replica of her stuff, or made a replica of her stuff, or published my sketch of her stuff, or often even looked at the sketch after I came home from the show.  The sketch was an activity of the moment, meant to crystallize some concept that struck my fancy.  I suppose I could have just stood there in her booth staring for five minutes, but her husband probably would have come over and intimidated me in some other manner.

Let's agree to begin with that stealing designs is bad, and that when an artist realizes that has happened on a commercial scale, it's probably worth it to seek redress.  But is it worth it to assume preemptively that everybody looking at your stuff closely is doing it with the intent of ripping you off?  If so, then don't display your work in public.

I wonder whether the people who work so hard to jealously guard their ideas are doing it to good effect.  Are their products so unique, so special, so fabulously lucrative that industrial espionage is their greatest business challenge?  And couldn't any industrial spy worth her salt get an image of anything she wanted without lurking out in the aisle at the show?  Go to the vendor's website or etsy store and grab a screen shot; at the worst case, buy one and take a picture of it. 

Even people who sketch designs with the intent of making one themselves usually don't or can't follow through.  And if they did, so what?  People with the skill to actually copy your work can probably do so without a sketch, just by looking.  Would it be a better business strategy to approach the sketcher and say "I'm so glad you like this stuff!  If you decide you want to buy some, here's my business card!  Thanks for stopping by!"

No, send your husband out to give people the hairy eyeball. Even if you have totally misjudged the person with the pencil -- like maybe it was me having a private art moment -- act in a hostile manner on general principles.  That's a good use of his time and a good business strategy.

Why I blog

The question du jour on the Quiltart list is why do you blog?  I dashed off a response to the list but continue to think about it, and here's my new and improved answer.  I started my blog in January as a way to execute my daily art project for 2010 -- taking a photo every day.  Didn't think I would do much else besides post the photos, but I was wrong.

The beginning: January 1, 2010

I spent my career as a writer and editor in both journalism and corporate communication.  When I retired in 2000, people often asked me whether I was now going to do some creative writing.  I said heck no, writing is what I do for money, not for creativity.  I never had any urge to write "the great American novel" or any other type of fiction, and I didn't know enough about any actual subject to write non-fiction.

My favorite kind of writing was explanatory, which came in handy in 30 years of writing about the inner workings of the tax code or the finer points of pharmacy benefit management.  But in retirement I didn't encounter much that needed explaining, nor did I have an audience who needed explanations.  I did write some magazine articles and a couple of books on quilting, although the books languish because I haven't gotten around to getting them published.  (The scourge of working for yourself: to be a success, you have to spend an hour marketing for every hour you spend actually doing what you like to do.)

A decade later, however, things have changed.  First, the internet has in fact provided a potential audience.  Second, I've now spent enough time as a quiltmaker and artist to have things to say that apparently are interesting and valuable to that audience.  So once the blog was there, it turned out that I had a lot of ideas that wanted to be let out to play in public.  Blogging is way more fun than I ever dreamed it would be.

After almost a year, here's what it has done for me:

-- My photography has gotten much better, thanks to the discipline of carrying my camera with me everywhere and always being on the lookout for good pictures.

-- I'm doing more research into art, because when I want to write about, say, the Expressionists, I want to make sure I don't say something really stupid in front of the whole cyberworld.  Google, of course, is even a worse time-waster than the dictionary or the one-volume encyclopedia, because it's so easy to skip from one subject you're looking up to another, and some of those tangents are deadends, but you do find gold much of the time.  I'm also looking back at my actual hard-copy books.

-- My museum visits are much more focused, because I'm always thinking about what I'm looking at and what I'm going to write about it when I get home; I think about the relationships of the different artworks to one another, which I like best and why, what might be interesting to point out to others.  Having those thoughts while you're still on premises is much better than having them next week at home, because you can go back and look again, rather than wishing you'd noticed the brushwork or read the little writing in the corner of the painting that's illegible on the Google image.  The same is true for reading; you know you always pay closer attention when you have to write the book report later.

-- I'm reading other people's blogs more carefully, because I'm more aware of how much work and thought goes into a good blog (and how easy it is to do a slipshod one).  Some bloggers write regularly and frequently, and I greatly respect their commitment as well as enjoy their content.  Others write infrequently but I eagerly wait for them.

-- I've been able to talk about my own work, how I make it and what it means to me -- kind of an extended artist statement.  I know it can be tedious to hear people ramble on about their work, so I try hard to edit myself and stick to what's important.  Having no adorable cats or kids at home makes it easier to keep my remarks focused on the art.

-- I've been able to share a lot of knowledge with other people, which I find extremely gratifying, and in many ways a lot easier than shlepping all your stuff to teach at a workshop.  I do love to give explanations, and it's a whole different universe when you get to explain things you understand all by yourself, rather than explaining things that other people understand.  I mean it's much more fun explaining how to piece a curved line than how to amortize actuarial losses in your pension plan.

-- I've made friends through blogging, leaving comments on their sites and reading their comments on mine; the dialog often brings out the best in both of us.  This is probably the best part of it, and in the end, why I blog.  Thank you all for reading, and for your comments, and I hope we will stay friends for a long time in the future.

Quilt art according to Wikipedia

So the issue du jour on the Quiltart list is whether Wikipedia properly represents quilt art.  Since the site is updated continually and continuously, I have no way to go back and read what it said last week, before people started improving it.  But apparently the visitor from Mars would have thought that quilts were bedding, and there was no such thing as art in the form of a quilt.  Some of the Quiltart members thought this was outrageous and set out to revise the entry, giving us art quilters our just deserts. 

After much posting, and apparently a fair amount of Wiki updating, had gone on, I decided to read the entry myself and see if it was as bad as people said.  Were I an art teacher, I think I'd give the writer a C+.  The article didn't say anything wrong, but it seemed to me a curiously spotty discussion of the field, earnest but naive.  

(First a caveat: I dislike the term quilt art, or art quilts.  I think the term is counterproductive, painting us into a corner and trivializing our work.  But for purposes of this discussion I don't see how we can avoid it.)

This has nothing to do with Wikipedia, but a discussion of quilt art deserves a picture of a quilt art.  That's My Q, 2004, 87 x 56

Among other things, there is no discussion in the Wikipedia article of how the development of art quilting parallelled and cross-fertilized the spectacular popularity of mainstream quilting in the 1970s, fueled by the Bicentennial fervor for old-fashioned crafts.  The most influential people in the early days of art quilting are described in strange ways -- kind of like having your one and only sentence about Picasso being about his home on the Cote d'Azur.   For instance:

"Pauline Burbidge, a British artist, first saw old quilts in Portobello Road in London and 30 years later is still working in the medium."

"Nancy Crow, another influential teacher and writer of books, was instrumental in freeing quilting artists from certain preconceptions about rules."
  
"Beth Gutcheon and Michael James were quilting instructors, beginning a trend which still allows quilting artists to earn income from a pursuit close to their art."

True, but what did they actually do as artists?  You won't find out from Wikipedia. 

On a scale of 1 to 10 I rank my concern about Wikipedia's article on quilt art as maybe a 4.  It's too bad the article is not a comprehensive, insightful, accurate, nuanced description of the field but I can't see where any of us practitioners are going to be hurt by it.  The discussion on the Quiltart list is currently bogging down in what should be the proper definition of quilts, and whether printing computer-generated images onto fabric is cheating, and what's the difference between fiber art and textile art (with people providing dictionary definitions to argue their cases), all non-issues in my book. 

However, I will claim credit for one small step toward truth, justice and the American way.  The article has a section called "Controversies in quilt art in the U.S."  When I checked out the site on Monday, the section began:  "In a field that straddles craft and art, particularly one that is predominantly peopled by females, the controversies can arise rather quickly."

I was moved to register as a Wiki contributor and took out the part between the commas. 

Happy Halloween

I hate Halloween with a passion and haven't worn a costume in 50 years. But I volunteer every week with abused children ages 5-10 and was told that I HAD to wear a costume to the party tonight. There is no force on earth other than these little kids who could make me put on a costume, but I succumbed.  Problem is, I didn't know what to wear.  So last night I put out a desperate cry for help to my 3,000 closest friends on the Quiltart email list. 

I thought it needed to be an outfit that I could say "I am a _____" rather than just some weird clothes that don't match. And I didn't want to have to go out and buy anything. 

Seven minutes after I posted my call for help the responses started flowing.  Dozens of people wrote in with ideas -- that's what I love about this list; they're so willing to help in one's hour of need.

If I'd counted votes, I would have dressed as a gypsy.  Several people thought, rightly, that it wouldn't be too difficult for a not-young, not-thin woman to come up with some flowing skirts, scarves and jewelry and look not-too-awful.  And I could have, had I owned something that could pass for a crystal ball and had I not engaged in denial and put off wardrobe planning until about a half hour before I had to leave.  Others suggested Mother Goose, with apron and gathered cap.

Many of my correspondents recalled clever costumes they'd used in the past. 

Jennifer Martin wrote, "One year I went as the laundry fairy. I wore regular clothes and pinned missing socks all over myself. I also wore a cheap $5 tiara and carried a cheap wand. I also carried my stuff that day in a laundry basket instead of my regular tote bag."

Patricia Cox: "I sewed a stuffed doggie to the edge of my pant leg, added a collar and leash and went as a dog walker. As I walked it looked like the dog was chewing off my pant leg."

Julie Schlueter:  "Super easy is black and white. Wear all black and white clothes, funkier the better. Do one half of your face black and the other white."

Cynthia Wenslow:  "I went as the Spirit of Autumn. I wore a dark green pant suit and cut out a zillion leaf shapes from colored construction and copy paper and taped them all over my pants and jacket and hair with painter's tape doubled over on the back. Some eventually fell off during the course of the evening, but I just told everyone it was only natural that leaves fall in autumn!"

Helen Howes:  "I drew two red dots on my neck and went as the Vampire's Victim."

Janet Windsor:  "Jeans & sweatshirt with socks and underwear spray basted on -- Static Cling; and the ultimate -- I wore whatever I wanted and went as a Party-Pooper!"

Much as I appreciated the wit of these costumes, I was afraid it would go over the heads of the six-year-olds.  And much as I empathized with Janet's final suggestion I knew I had to do something.  My solution was to be a fairy godmother.  Some of the Quiltart people had suggested that, with creative embellishments  such as velvet capes, chiffon scarves and crowns.  In the end, in keeping with my aversion to costumes, I went with the absolute minimum: long skirt, high heels, Mardi Gras beads, a headdress and of course a magic wand. 

The headdress was a length of tulle tied in a knot around my head and embellished with iridescent curly ribbon.  The magic wand was a dowel, a cardboard star covered in aluminum foil, and more curly ribbon.  Total prep time: 20 minutes. 

So how did this getup go over with the kids?  Within one minute of walking onto the premises, one of the little girls had grabbed the wand, pulled the ribbon off the star, torn the aluminum foil and reattached the ribbons halfway down the handle.  I did manage to keep the headdress on for a half hour, after which the little girls took turns wearing it and waving the wand.  The Mardi Gras beads never did resurface after somebody took them off my neck.  It was a huge success and required no explanation -- apparently every child over age two knows what a magic wand is and that somebody carrying one is a fairy godmother.  Next week I'm going to bring 10 yards of pink tulle and my iridescent curly ribbon and make headdresses for everybody.

So, a wonderful heart-tugging evening -- full of love for my Quiltart colleagues and these adorable children who have been dealt a bad hand but are hanging in there.  My life is so enriched by spending time with them on my lap.  Next year maybe I'll go as a gypsy.

Advice to a confused artist

Today on the Quiltart list somebody wrote a long, discouraged message about her future. “I am really at a loss as to go about BEING an artist and having hopes of being successful at it,” she wrote, then went on to share some of her confusion.

“I was a member of a local art guild and showed at their big fall show and sold quite well BUT since this area is rural, my prices weren't very high. In fact, I was told to at least double my asking price when I sent a piece to a show once. So, I thought maybe I should try to get my art somewhere where I could ask for higher prices and began entering some of the national shows… Most of the time, I've been successful at getting into them and I sold one once from the Chicago IQA show...

“Seeing what the exhibits will be in Houston this Fall, I noticed SAQA is well represented. Am I the only one, or does it seem like it's mandatory to be a member of SAQA now to get any advanced information for shows?

“I never joined my ‘local’ guild because it's 1 1/2 hour drive away and I wasn't sure I wanted to join a guild that is mostly traditional and be the odd person out. Maybe I do need to start trying to connect more locally and try to fit in a bit more.

“Of course, all this costs money. Memberships in the guilds, IQA, SAQA, then entry fees for each show... it adds up and, at this point, it's adding up to a nice hobby but not much of a profession. I know I have to get my art in front of people to sell it, but I sure don't know where the best place is for that to happen…

“How much time do I have to put towards this? I work. I have kids that are active in different things. I feel good if I have time to make art, let alone try to market it. I know the day will come that I can devote more time to my art, but I don't think I should wait to create when I'm an empty-nester.”

I’ve heard this kind of anguish before, and not just from art quilters – the cry of somebody who doesn’t know where to start in getting out of a situation they are unhappy with. For some reason this message struck a chord and I thought I would respond at length, not just to the person who posted but to everybody, because only the details are different from the situation that everybody else is in to some degree or another.

So here’s what I have to say to the confused artist. Before you can become successful you have to define success. It seems that you define it as selling your work and turning your art into a paying job, so to speak.

If that's the case, you need to decide where is the best place to sell your work. What places could you sell locally or regionally? At a guild show? (That's once a year -- is that enough?) At a gallery or gift shop? In a restaurant? Through a real estate dealer? Via commissions? For this approach, you need to focus on building a local reputation so yes, you might want to join your local guild -- not so much for artistic inspiration but for networking. And you might think about doing things like giving talks to local groups or approaching the school to be an artist in residence, not to mention schmoozing any rich people you can find. Also for this approach you need to determine what kind of art will sell, and perhaps that will mean you make art on a production basis, lots of little blue quilts with birds (even if you hate blue), art that you think people will buy rather than art that you want to make.

Maybe selling locally is only a start, because you can't get enough money, and your ultimate objective is to sell on a wider geographic scale. In that case SAQA would probably be a great resource for you, since that organization is focused on selling members' work and encouraging collectors to buy quilts. In this case you will probably want to enter as many big shows as possible, not that you will sell a lot of pieces from shows but your resume and profile will benefit. And you should have a website and explore online sales opportunities.

No matter where you want to sell, you need to have a financial target in mind. If you want to make $50,000 a year from selling your quilts, you’ll need a different plan than if you would be happy to make $5,000. Of course you won’t make as much when you start out, so maybe you set a sliding target, $1,000 the first year, more in later years.

And no matter where you want to sell, you have to ask yourself, am I good enough to sell my work for the amount of money I would like to get for it? In other words, do you focus on finding a market for the type of work you are now good at producing, or do you concentrate on growing and improving so that in several years you will be good enough to make a better type of work? There are artists who never get past the little blue quilts with birds, because they manage to find enough buyers with undeveloped taste, and it's easier to keep churning out the birds and not have to think too hard. Of course, that makes it more like working at the garment factory and less like art, but maybe that’s OK with you.

The final question was "How much time do I have to put towards this? I feel good if I have time to make art, let alone try to market it."

That's a huge question. If you want to be successful at a free-lance business, whether it’s art, writing, massage therapy or real estate, you have to put in a lot of time marketing, maybe even half your time. For that reason, a lot of artists have decided to keep their day jobs to pay the rent and do art in their “spare time.” At least that way when you have a weekend to spend on art, you get to actually make art. In other words, maybe you should redefine success for the next ten years or so till your kids get older -- decide that you are aiming toward making quilts, entering shows, and getting better at your art/craft. If you sell stuff along the way that's fine but it's not your primary objective for this stage of your career.

As in every other aspect of life, be careful what you wish for. Think hard on how you define success and what you set as objectives. Only when you have your goal very clear can you decide how to accomplish it.

Katy is channeling me!

My internet pen pal Katy has been on my wavelength recently. 

First, she took up my challenge to make daily art and is doing a calendar quilt with a square for every day. Her rule is to make five-inch blocks, using only solid colors, representing something about her day.  She's finished 20 blocks so far and is feeling energized.

Second, she used the April Quilt Date technique of piecing narrow lines. You can see both of these projects on her blog. 

I am so happy that some of my ideas have found a receptive mind to alight in.  One of the great joys of the internet, and of the art communities that it has enabled, is the opportunity to give and get ideas and support.

A year ago, in fact, it was Katy who was supporting me.  I wrote on the Quiltart list that I was doing a huge job of sinking the thread ends in a quilt, and had managed to break two or three needle threaders already.  Where do you buy needle threaders? I asked the list (without having to buy a whole pack of crummy needles to get one threader).  Katy replied that she had acquired a whole box of them from her sewing machine repair guy, and would send me some.  Which she did -- a lifetime supply and then some.  What a friend!!

just some of the needle threaders Katy sent me last year

So I'm happy to see that I can return the favor by giving her an idea or two.

PS -- Katy's new calendar quilt project brings to mind the fact that I made a calendar quilt several years ago too.  I have referred to it in passing on the blog, but I should really talk a little more about it.  Tune in tomorrow.

What is an art quilt? Why does this question make me sigh?

There’s a new thread of discussion this week on Quiltart (the email list of 2000+ art quilters around the world) over the definition of art quilts.

One person wrote in, “The only thing that we agree on is that an Art Quilt is hung on a wall. Some think that because it has beads on it -- it's an Art Quilt. Here's one of our main disagreements: Some think that machine embroidery (programmed) on most of the quilt would equate to an Art Quilt. While I think that free-motion machine embroidery is a more artistic form of expression than a programmed one.”

Then somebody else wrote, “What some people think is an art quilt is something that is non-objective. No object can be identified. In truth, art quilts can be both representational and abstract. Some say that it is about being original. But in reality, you can take a traditional design and use contemporary fabrics and call it an art quilt. You can take traditional blocks and reinvent them into unusual balance. You can make a traditional block and use mixed media paint, paper and threads. This is another type of art quilt.”

Another contribution: “Does an Art Quilt have to go on the wall or could it also be a free-standing scuptural piece (sewn through three layers of course!)?”

All this makes me want to unsubscribe from the list and beat my head against the wall.

One of the things I find discouraging about the “art quilt” world – I put the phrase in quotes because I have a lot of problems with it – is that so many of its residents get all hung up on what seem to me to be trivial and wrong-headed issues and so few focus on what’s important: making art.

I occasionally teach a workshop called “art quilt basics” and I start by saying that the phrase “art quilt” has two parts – art and quilt. Almost always, people know more about one than the other. I ask participants to tell me which way they’re coming from, because that affects what they need to know next. People who already know how to make quilts need to know more about art (design, composition, color, etc.). People who already know the principles of art need to know how to make a quilt (piecing, quilting, finishing, etc.)

I think the trivial issues raised in this particular discussion – and in so many other discussions on the Quiltart list -- are all coming from the quilting end of the spectrum. People who have made some quilts are trying to get more arty, whatever that means to them, but are seizing on all the wrong means to accomplish that.

I’m not meaning to trash the Quiltart list. It’s a wonderful and vigorous community that I have been a part of for more than a dozen years, and it puts me in touch with many, many fellow artists and opportunities. But in the inevitable way of the Internet, Gresham’s Law often applies and bad discussion drives out good. And those discussions only reflect what’s going on in the heads of thousands of people, whether or not they write in and post their opinions.

So people who like quilts decide they want to become less traditional and more arty – how to do that? Maybe it’s through materials: putting beads or Angelina fibers or felting or seashells on top of the quilt. Maybe it’s through technique: using free-motion quilting or phototransfer or fusing or raw-edge applique. Maybe it’s through subject matter: being more or less representational, or choosing edgy themes.

Incurable optimists might find this situation heartwarming, seeing people yearning to let their inner artists out. (These are the same optimists who will confidently assure the most awkward newbie that yes, your quilt is ART and it is GREAT!! and don’t let anybody else tell you it’s not!!!)

But pessimist/cynics can find it discouraging, seeing people who “want to make art” but have no artistic vision to express. They’re the same people who send in work to the Stampington magazines, technically magnificent but everybody uses the same rubber stamp du jour of a Victorian lady or a bluebird.

I could rant on, but will cut to the chase. If I am asked to define an art quilt I say that first, it’s art. That is, work made by an artist who has something to say about the world, to the world. And that artist has chosen to use the medium and format of a quilt, defined as layers held together by stitching. And by choosing to use the medium/format of a quilt the artist should have some feeling or connection or commentary to make with or about traditional quilts, otherwise why not make a painting or photography or bronze sculpture?