Photo suite 63 -- found As

Sign of the week

Properly appreciative 4

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about a pile of baby quilts I made for the grandchildren of my dear friend from graduate school, using quilt blocks that my friend's grandmother had made many decades ago but never sewed together.  She always made the same block, although in different sizes and color combinations.

Here are three of the quilts in use!

Isaac, the oldest, was the first of my friend's grandchildren and got the biggest quilt, six years ago.  Hazel and Silas, his sister and brother, got theirs last month.

The quilts are getting a bit smaller as I don't want to run out of quilt blocks before we run out of babies.  So far I've made six and a new baby arrived last month who needs a quilt too.

Properly appreciative 3

I mentioned last fall that we have a new baby in our family.  I don't have an ironclad practice of making serious baby quilts for every new child, but I do have an ironclad practice of making each one a newborn quilt.

Newborns don't see colors for the first two or three months of their lives, but they are enthralled by the stark contrast of black-and-white.  It is amazing to see a tiny baby looking intently at a B&W composition, his brow furrowed in concentration, almost as if he is reading.  So I make each new baby a tiny B&W quilt.  Not big enough to suffocate him, so it can go in the crib or be propped on the sofa within reading distance.

I once thought that it would be nifty to make kits of B&W fabric that could be sold at Houston or other big quilt shows, with directions for sewing it up, along with a brochure explaining the physiology and neurology of tiny babies' fascination with this color combination.  If any of my entrepreneurial readers would like to seize upon this opportunity, take the idea with my blessing.  I can provide lots of photos of babies who love their B&W quilts.

Here's our newest family member, Luke, with his newborn quilt.

Properly appreciative 2

I wrote yesterday about how I'm choosy in whom I give handmade gifts to.  Unless I think somebody will appreciate and take care of my work, I won't give it to them.  However, I've come to that realization over time and I know that some of the things I gave away decades ago weren't taken care of or loved at the level that I expect today.

So it's especially nice to come upon stuff that I madeand gave away a long time ago, still being loved and used.

We briefly visited my sister-in-law on our way to our Christmas beach vacation and I was amazed to find things in her house that I know I made, once upon a time, but had frankly forgotten all about.

Two quilts were hung somewhat unorthodoxly in windows, since she didn't have curtains and needed to block the sun.  Had these been works of art I probably would have been offended, but they were only "goodbye quilts."  And they looked quite nice in backlighting.

Many years ago I realized that my stash was full of fabrics that I had outgrown, or that I never loved in the first place -- how had they ever gotten here, and why was I continuing to feed and clothe them?  So I made a long series of what I called "goodbye quilts" -- their major quality was speed of completion.  My rule was that if anybody said an unsolicited word of praise for one of them, I would finish it instantly and give it to the praiser.

Some of the goodbye quilts were donated to the Holocaust Museum in Houston, where Rachel Brumer had an exhibit in 2001.  She wanted to provide a quilt for every visiting child and solicited contributions from people on the Quiltart list.  I sent two or three.

Others went to friends and family, but not unless they first said they liked one.  Apparently I gave two to my sister-in-law, although I don't remember either one.

It was almost Christmas, so she had also brought out a log cabin quilt that I had made about 30 years ago.  I made similar Christmas quilts for everybody in my family with the same three-color, 16-block design but different fabric combinations.  I hadn't seen this one in many years so it was fun to be reacquainted.

Finally, I was in the closet searching out an extra blanket one night and found this afghan on the shelf.  Back in the days when we had only one TV set and no VCR, and I was a busy working woman, I was in the habit of curling up on the couch in the evening to watch TV and crochet.  This was especially nice in the winter, because the growing afghan would keep me warm as I worked.  I cranked out hundreds of afghans, some nicer than others.

This was one of the nicest ones, quite dense and warm.  It used a fancy stitch where I changed color on each row, and chose to deal with the ends by tying them into luxuriant fringe.  Seems that she's still saving it for good -- doesn't look as though it has been used for picnics, warmed the cats or been through the washing machine ten dozen times.

A worthy recipient, she definitely will get more fiber art gifts in the future.

Properly appreciative 1

I don't give quilts or other handmade things away very often, having been disappointed in the past when people didn't properly appreciate the magnificence of such gifts.  I have occasionally found my quilts spread out as tablecloths or my afghans used as a nice soft doggy bed.  In situations like this, I believe in one strike and you're out -- no more handmade stuff for you.

But when I know that people understand and value what goes into a piece of fiber art, it's a pleasure to give them presents.  Not surprisingly, fellow fiber artists make excellent recipients.  They know what skill and effort are required for such projects, and they are attuned to the subtleties of the techniques and materials.

Towards the end of last year I made two little quilts as gifts for good friends.  Both of them are fine fiber artists, both of them make quilts themselves, and I knew that the quilts would be in good homes.

As it turned out, both were made from leftovers from my summer-long quilting marathon.  When I like a quilt, I enjoy working with the same fabrics for a while longer.  My method of using tiny pieces always results in a lot of extra fabric, because it's so much easier to cut a lot of strips in advance than to try to gauge exactly how much will be needed.  So I feel quite righteous using up the bits and pieces in a small project.

Blue Ohio, 17 x 15"

Morning in America, 14 x 15"






Update:  Linking this to Nina-Marie's blog -- check it out to see what other fiber artists are up to this week.