Leftovers: The Art of Including Something from the Past

Butterfly Garden

I know some people who meticulously plan their quilts. I envy them. They draw them out on cocktail napkins or in a notebook, or a design wall. And it doesn’t change. They have a straight line vision and if they were in a boat you’d say they were rowing to the shore.

I’m just not one of them. I walk into the studio, look at what I’m working on and the squirrel process begins. You know what I mean. I see one thing and it makes me think of something else in a bin somewhere that I know is perfect except that I ran into something even better when I moved a pile over and I found something left over from another quilt.

Grotto Gem is one of the left over bits from Butterfly Garden. It didn’t quite work with the others but it was magic but itself.

Let’s just say it’s like treasure hunting. There isn’t a map, just the memory of the myth. I’m in a boat roaring down the river without a paddle. I cling to the side and whats where the river of creativity takes me.

Somewhere I have the perfect butterfly, bird, frog, mushroom, name your critter, waiting to go into that new quilt. All I have to do is dig deep enough for it.

In the brand new studio? Are there piles in the brand new studio? Already?

OF COURSE THERE ARE.

I’ve gotten quite precious about left over bits. And I produce them in bulk. If I decide to do mushrooms I am likely to do ten of them when I only need two.

Stag Party

Why?

It’s process. Left over mushrooms in the studio are not different than left over mushrooms in the refrigerator. Did you fry them with bacon and sherry? You know full well theyll go into the next casserole seamlessly.

But its easier to do them in a lump. The machines are all set a certain way, for free motion applique, or for bobbin work, or for zigzag embroidery. The backgrounds are on thin felt, hand dye and stitch and tear. And I’ll have a basket of the thread colors I want to feature. And rather than make two mushrooms for a quilt, I’ll make ten just to have the left overs, waiting for their time on another quilt. It’s also in an organized set of colors. Mushrooms on another day may not feature neon orange, but I always reserve the possibility. They make a collection of mushrooms that go with each other, and that is useful again and again.

I’m going to show you some quilts, some done and some not finished, that were left overs to start with.

This back and this fish sat in the same bag for years. I took out the background and the fish fell onto it. What can a girl do?

I purposely made way too many moths for this owl. The owl is from a quilt that simply didn’t work. They’re both in process.

But one of the moths found it’s way into Stag Party, and I have two more pinned into another quilt.

Ladybug Rising

This aggressively pink background sat in the suitcase until this ladybug came along.

My point is that extras are part of pulling creation forward. They move on the conversation of what you’re working on, into other work, which asks other things of you. They are a natural part of studio work, which is the training of your art.

And your art is a precocious child who needs love, permission, more crayons and free time to find her way. Celebrate it all. Especially the leftovers that start up the process.

left over moth

New Year Directions: Sometimes God Just Kicks Your But. Punchline: I’ve Just Been Given A Studio

719 Lady Mantis

You haven’t heard much from me as a  quilter lately. I really try to subscribe to a no whine policy online. Everyone has their hard days, their dry times, their desert experiences. I’m not sure it’s better to be public about it.  Misery is not lighter for sharing it. It’s more like  lightly smearing a huge spill with a paper towel so it covers a larger space.Over the last four years, my major occupations have been negotiating two knee surgeries and figuring out dinner for two.

The surgeries are over. My rehab continues, but that’s life long. I would say I was on my knees grateful, but I can’t get on my knees. So I’m standing grateful and that’s a lot.

Collage gone amuck.

I’ve been wondering where my art has gone in that time. We never stop being artists. It’s a birthright in our genome, not a gift. But it is a practiced and oiled skill. I’ve worked on digital collage,  bizarre crochet, tatting and book design. All things that don’t require walking.  But would I go back to quilting? I wasn’t sure. I’ve moved a 2 car 2 level studio into 1 room and found I couldn’t find my own ass, never mind the thread and fabric I bought yesterday.

 

 

So I was blasted out of my chair when Don asked me if I would like a studio? Would I like a studio? Do I need to breathe? Still trying to figure out how to do that after he offered me his old house, a perfect small house, for studio space.

Now if God picks you up and puts you in a new work space, what do you say? What can you say other than to mutter “Thank you” over and over and over until you fall over. And then start to pack. God kicked my but. All of my buts are irrelevant.

The new studio is in Galesburg on Seminary Street. We’re shoveling it out as we speak.

Of course I’m going to need some help. Not just moving but sorting and organizing and packing and unpacking. So for anyone who lives near by, or who fancies a visit and would like to run their hands through a lot of fabric, I NEED SOME HELP! I can’t pay back in money, but I will offer studio privilege and private study for anyone willing to help me. I’ll match you time for time for your assistance. If you can offer a teenager who can lift and carry, I’ll feed them pizza till their eyes bug out and offer you studio privilege and private study, your choice.  I’ll also offer some stash raiding (and I have a wild stash).

I don’t intend to teach in the studio in general. Or set up a store in any way. I will be dyeing fabric and I will sell it, but not in a venued way. What I hope for is a space for my work that I can share with people at will.

Current studio. One room is not enough.

I’m going back down the rabbit hole and stuff things in boxes. If you can come visit, or lend support call me at 219-617-2021.  Or email me at ellenanneeddy@gmail.com. I’ll be somewhere under the table but I can still find the phone.