Why Is There a Bug on this Quilt?: Head Cleaning for Artists: Are you sure you want to know what this quilt means?

This is the story of two quilts that got made. I made the components of both of them at theame time, so they aren’t the same quilt, but their process is connected.

A large part of how quilts get made is that there are components. They’re made separately so they can go anywhere, and they do.

I had two pieces of fabric, left over from my teaching days, They both had that glowing pink red thing going on. I had fallen in love with the little lacy praying mantises and I wanted to put it into one of those pieces. And I always love sapsucker bugs.

But which piece? They were both beautiful. They were already backed and ready to be worked on for design. As I often do, I worked as if it could be either. I made my bug components.

Did I make extras? I always do! It’s like left overs in the kitchen. It’s something yummy you don’t have to work on now, because you have it right there, in your kitchen, ready to eat. I think I made 6 sapsucker bugs, thinking they would all go on one quilt. That didn’t work out that way, for which I am glad.

But why bugs? I often have people who want to know why I do nature quilts. Actually, technically I don’t, always. I’m never a slave to reality. Why are there all those bugs? There’s a couple of answers to those questions, but people aren’t always comfortable with those answers.

Gaham Wilson wrote an hysterical book of comics called I Paint What I See. For all the viewer can see there’s nothing there. But the artist sees what they see. What else can they paint?

It’s true. Every artist paints what they see. All of my life I’ve seen people as animals. Often as bugs. Not in a negative way. I love my bugs. But it’s what I see. I quilt what I see.

The other uncomfortable truth is that I am in no way in charge of my art. It demands things of me and I try to comply. But once I understand something, I can see that the quilt is about something that is about to happen in my life. They are predictive.

So when I found myself wrangling with the bank later that week, I thought of my very confident praying mantis, standing tall among the flowers, able to take on all comers. That’s the other uncomfortable truth. My quilts tell me who I am, what is coming, and that I am brave enough.

Then again, as an artist, am I in charge of people’s comfort? Art changes how we see things. If we are faithful to our work, art changes our perceptions of ourselves. I’m not about to do sad-eye puppy quilts, so everyone will have to get used to that.

Left Overs Again: It’s Not a UFO. It’s a Quilt in Waiting

When I finish a quilt, there’s this awkward sigh of relief, then this restlessness. And then I go scramble around in my unfinished quilt pile. I’m not really comfortable with finishing. I’d rather dink along at length until I’m really bored with it or until I have a deadline, whichever comes first.

So I pull out my pile of unfinished quilts

Bugs in Bloom

I’m not one of those people who feels they must finish every quilt. Not every quilt works the way you want it to. Sometimes you learn much more from a quilt you don’t want or need to finish. It’s all an experiment of a sort. I don’t believe there is shame in not finishing a quilt you don’t like.

But sometimes something that got backshelved really is worthy and I just need to get back to it.

All Time is Spiral in a Garden

I had an urge to play with sapsucker bugs.

I love these. They’re made with two tear drop shape.

And if you do it right the same shapes that make the bugs will also make the flowers.

I found two pieces I’d played with a bit in class. They both were perfect for the bugs and blooms so which should I choose?

I’m still not sure. But while I was at it, I cut pieces for a praying mantis to go with them. Here she is just as raw fabric.

And here she’s fleshed out with most of her stitching.

I’m not there yet with this. I’ll show you more about the decision on backgrounds in another post. My point is that the process of going through the left overs brings me to new and old ideas both. I may have to try it with the refrigerator next.

You’ll find more left over stories in my post Left Overs: The Art of Including Something Left from the Past.

Reaching Upward: The Vertical Visual Path

You’ll remember in blog post Don’t Be Square, we introduced visual paths. Visual paths are a designed pathway through your quilt to guide the eye across the surface. A vertical visual path works differently than a horizontal one. Horizontal visual paths pull your eye across the width of your quilt.

A vertical visual path almost always draws your eyes up through the piece? Why? Largely because of the shape of the quilt and the fact that we usually follow things from the bottom up when we look at them. These dynamic dimensions already launch the viewers eyes up the quilt.

But good planning and design help as well. If we place similar objects along the pathway, the eye will also follow those, just like stepping stones. The flowers aren’t big, but the direct your eye through the piece effortlessly.

I favor ‘s’ shapes for the visual pathway. But other shapes work as well. Any direction that pulls the eye makes the whole surface of your work pop as your eye travels through. The squirrel himself makes the visual path here, and he’s traveling straight down. Either way, it makes the eye move.

Stems on the flowers, and the blooms themselves start the eye down to find the turtle. Whatever direction your path goes and whatever stepping stone you use, it makes the dynamics of your quilt work to show off every wonderful detail.

So don’t be square! Play with elongated shapes, and see where your visual path takes you!