a Thousand Cranes: Some Thoughts about busyness, Waiting and changing Our Stories

There is a legend that if you fold a thousand cranes, it will change you. Your pain will be relieved. Your luck will change. This repetitive action will change your life.

I had a visitor to the studio remark that there were a lot of processes in each quilt I made. There are. Dyed fabric, oil paint stick rubbing, painted sheers, dyed cheesecloth, free motion applique, direct sheer applique, and then we quilt.

That does represent a lot of busyness on my part. I like the complexity. I want a piece to be exciting when you see it from a distance and exciting if you are inches away from it.

With that said, there is a lot of donkey work. Yesterday, I cut rocks. I use the leftover pieces of fabric that are rock colored and cut them into rocks of several different sizes, waiting for the right quilt. Repetitive. So much of art is. A lot of art is creating a surface, a color, a shape, a texture that makes the piece something splendiferous. That takes a lot of repetition.

I have a price list where I document quilts by size, when they were finished and given a number. The latest quilt is numbered 1125-23, which means it’s the 1,125th quilt made since 1987. I’m going to claim them as my 1,000 cranes. What I’ve learned from 1,125 quilts is that the action of creating something over and over in different ways does change us. Art changes us because it helps us tell our stories in a different light and see ourselves in a different way. But we come to that by a series of actions that seem to be the same thing over and over. If we want the benefit of change and regeneration, it takes a sustained effort. In the Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis said we were not capable of any sustained action, only of the undulation towards a goal.  According to Screwtape, Undulation is the repeated return to a level from which we repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks. God relies more on troughs because it makes us rely on God.

Art is a holy process. It’s a place of honesty, effort, and repetitive actions in hopes of reaching the peaks despite the troughs. What I have learned from 50 years of quilting is that the troughs simply have to be waded through like mud, with the actions over and over again that create our art and ourselves.

Tuesday, I’m going into the hospital to have a stent put in to fix my blockage. I have good hopes, but I can’t say I’m not nervous. But the waiting and the work on my quilts has soothed that some. It’s an office procedure. I expect to be home the same night.

So I do what I do when I’m nervous. Or happy. Or sad. Or confused. I make more quilts.

Good Bones: Rocks To Water

923-21 In the Reeds 2

Building something with dimension usually means it has a recognizable top and bottom. Design-wise, I believe you should be able to flip a piece on any side and have the design still move and work. But it loses a great deal of credibility if you have upside-down fish. It’s not a good look.

Be that as it may, it helps to have a recognizable border between sky, land, and water. How can we make those obviously separate, without just putting a line across it?

There are several subtle ways and some pretty direct ways.

Dyed cotton thread in the sky, thick metallic in the water

The easiest subtle way is to change the kind of thread you are using to stipple. Not the color necessarily. The kind of thread.

Threads separate in how they’re made and how much they shine. Metallic threads usually shine more than poly or rayon, certainly much more than cotton. Sliver-like threads that are flat tinsel shine the most. Next, come the twisted metallics like Supertwist. Then there are the wound metallics like Superior metallics.

Now, if water is shinier than air, and air is shinier than earth, you can separate them out by having different threads stippling the piece. I usually use Sliver or #8 weight metallic threads for water, and Supertwist for sky, and/ or earth. If they shine differently, your eye will automatically sort them out as different.

# eight weight metallic threads in water

But the best way I know to establish earth is rocks. This is not subtle. It’s an in-your-face statement of land. A pile of rocks at the water’s edge defines the water/earth border immediately. Ad it’s so easy to do.

I cut rocks out of leftover hand dye. I pick anything that is rock color, always adjustable to the color of the background, and cut a whole lot of rocks for when I need them. They’re backed with Steam-a-Seam 2 so I can move them around at will until I iron them down.

Fishy Business is a mostly water quilt. But a pile of rocks in one corner establishes the bottom of the pond. I may have globs of thread and some water ferns later to create more movement. Now all I want to do is establish a baseline with the rocks and start getting the water to flow.

I’m using soft edge applique techniques for this. Soft edge has no visible stitching or edge to it. Neither water or rocks are improved by having a hard applique edge around them. Instead, I’ll go around the edges with monofilament nylon and a zigzag stitch. There’s more information on, this in Sun, Clouds Water and Rocks.

I cut some elongated c shapes to make water from. Both in blue and green for the water and yellow for reflected sunlight.

You can see the progression on this in these shots. I started with a corner pile of rocks to establish the bottom of the pond. Then I added in the water ripples made of sheers backed with Steam-a-Seam 2. Since each fish I put in the water changes where the water ought to be, I’ve added them one by one and adjusted the water around them. I added sunlit water shapes across the middle.

I’m pleased with this so far. Nothing is sewn down yet, so I’ll leave it up and look at it in case it needs adjustment.

Having a sticky fusible like Steam-a-Seam 2 lets me design this way. When I’m ready, I’ll commit and iron it down. It’s a very fishy business after all.