Quilter-Artist Spectrum

Do you consider yourself a quilter or an artist or both? Or maybe somewhere in between?

The above image was taken from the Fabricate exhibit, held recently at the DaDe Gallery here in Calgary.  It is a quilt by Luke Haynes.

If you aren't familiar with Luke Haynes he a self described architect turned quilter. I adore his work. I don't think I'll ever make a portrait quilt myself, but his works are stunning. STUNNING. I jumped at the chance to see some of his work locally.

While I was pouring over the quilt and its details it got me to thinking about how I see myself as a quilter. Am I just a quilter? Is that a bad thing, to use the word just? Do I even come close to considering myself an artist? And frankly, what's the difference?

What is the difference?

I haven't a clue how to make any distinctions.

... showing quilts versus using quilts?
... heavy versus soft?
... designing for the wall versus the bed?
... making something pretty versus making a statement?
... exploring colour versus exploring themes?

In my opinion, I don't think there is a perfect or right answer. Maybe there is a spectrum and we all fall at different places on it at different times?

I do design my own work, I love to explore colour and inspiration, and sometimes I want my quilts to be seen and not necessarily always cuddled. For the most part though I do want my quilts to be used and used well, but it is a goal to hang in a gallery too. I sometimes design for up close and texture not the view from far away. I love to write and write about quilts. So, unlike my left leaning social and political views I think I maybe am somewhere in the middle of the spectrum.

What about you? Do you think there is a difference? How would you define it? How do you identify yourself?

Reflections

I'm feeling a bit reflective, bear with me.

Being a quilter, for me, is intrinsically tied to being a mother. Sure, I quilted before I had my first baby. It wasn't until I had The Monster, however, that I became a quilter. As I became a mother, so I became a quilter.

It wasn't a SHAZAM! kind of moment where birthing a child suddenly gave me colour clarity or sewing skills. Nor was it a direct result of sewing cute little baby things. Rather, it was a gradual development of an inevitable compulsion.

This is why I say inevitable.

Long before I had kids I won the 8th grade Home Ec Award. All this really means is that I was the quickest to sew together my sweat pants and I'd mastered granola. The next year I lost out and suffered the indignity of crimped hair for the school fashion show. At the time I though I'd come a long, long way from the tube dresses I made for my Barbie dolls.

My first quilt was for my boyfriend's (now husband), first nephew. A simple yellow, white, and grey Irish Chain. I got bruises carrying the heavy old machine of my mom's to and from the train station. The bruises aren't my only injuries. I sliced my finger with a rotary cutter once - I'm now missing a tip. And my wrists and hands have more than a few iron burns. All for the love of quilting.

I shudder to think what I've spent in all my years of quilting. My stash is large, but not the biggest you'll ever see. It certainly doesn't reflect the fact that I've made about 100 quilts since that first quilt 14 years ago.

All that money and those injuries are fine. That's because I'm a quilter. Just like the sleepless nights, heartache, and stress of being a mother - it comes with the job. Hmm, those things come with being a quilter too.

In the first year of The Monster's life I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. She was an amazing napper and our house is only so big. It stayed as clean as it could and I was left with hours of free time every day. In time my two or three quilts a year became one a month.

That full year of mat leave produced about 10 quilts and a profound change in my being. I find it hard to describe it adequately, but becoming a mother led me to accept my true self.

After junior high I put away the sewing machine and laid down the pen I used to write stories. The focus for me was on training for swimming, then rowing. Once those were gone it was all about boys and beer. I tried to resurrect my creativity by going to journalism school, but it didn't stick. But the creative nature was there, lurking, but never gone.

That year after The Monster's birth changed all that. If I was going to be a good mama I needed full honesty with her and with myself. Not only did I have to put aside my hang-ups about my physical and creative self, I had to put my compulsions at the fore. I needed to create and I needed to embrace that. Complete honesty gave me the confidence to do that. Doing so made me a better mother, I have no doubt about that.

Now, another daughter and our son later, there is no less confidence and the compulsion grows. That's why it feels right to sew on the dining room table, to sketch quilts with the girls, to take my son to Quilt Market.

Without becoming a mother I would not be a quilter. And because I am both I am fiercely proud of it. No one will ever take that away, no matter how hard they try.

I am Cheryl Arkison, Mama to her babies and quilter to all.

In Theory...

Any guess on what this is?

...

... Giving you a chance to guess here...

...

...

Here's a hint...

Got it now?

Yup, it's a small pillow made to mimic a bladder. Those aren't arteries and a vein coming from the bladder pillow. Those are the ureters (red) and urethra (blue). We had no pink ribbon in the house.

The girls have been listening to me whine about this baby kicking me like the dickens in my bladder. It's a pressure I've not experienced before. So The Monster, the wise one she is, suggested we make a pillow that looks like the bladder for the baby to kick instead of me.

So, she pulled out her anatomy textbook and human body books for reference. Consulted with my brother, a surgeon, on the correct colour of the bladder. She raided my fabric stash for what she thought was the appropriate fabric. She even drew the pattern herself. And did most of the stitching by hand on her own. She and her sister stuffed it to what they thought was the appropriate puffiness.

And now the baby has its own pillow to kick instead of me. I only wish it actually worked.

And dammit, I love this kid. She is pure awesome.

Important Letters

This is a fun little project I've got going on these days. I took some scraps and made letters. Put those letters on white et voila! I can't wait to share this one, but I need to wait as the recipient may be reading...

I'd volunteered to make the quilt for her after a tragic event. Another friend gave me some fabric and it languished. Lack of a clear vision kept me from moving forward. Then, one night, I had a dream. Pregnancy dreams are always quite vivid. And for once it wasn't a nightmare or something completely messed up. I dreamt this quilt. Hormones for good!

While I didn't follow it directly when it came to constructing mine, Elizabeth Hartman has a great tutorial here for making the letters.