Making a house away from home

Okay, it's time to share some photos of the quilting class I took at John C. Campbell last week. The class was taught by my buddy Mary Lou Weidman (center, in the photo below), a Washington-state quilter I got to know when I interviewed her for a story in American Patchwork and Quilting.


She and I hit it off on the phone, and the conversation I told her would probably take 15 to 20 minutes ended up lasting an hour. A few emails later she asked me to join her in Houston for Quilt Market. I was stunned, and being a basically shy person I told my husband "I could never do that! I've never even met her." He wisely said, "You can't NOT do that!" and he was right. Not only did I get to know and love Mary Lou and her wonderful friend Mel, attending Market opened numerous doors opened for me. She knew that would happen and in her very open-hearted and generous way, she wanted to create opportunities for me, a near stranger. I am incredibly grateful.

All this is to say that Mary Lou is definitely a "friend in fabric," par excellence. But she's also a teacher who travels the country at a crazy pace, teaching quilters who frequently take classes from her multiple times. So when she told me about John C. Campbell, I thought it was the perfect chance to finally learn her methods.




Mary Lou is all about having fun. But she's also a trained artist, and I learned not only to put together a quilt using her free-form "Hoochy Mama" block technique (you can see some in the picture third from the top), but to think about value and contrast in choosing fabrics. I learned that there is a method to her madness. Carol, a second-timer in Mary Lou's classes, commented that Mary Lou's seemingly wild quilts really do have a definite color scheme and though it took me awhile to see it, Carol is absolutely right.

After spending a week with Mary Lou I learned to step back and consider how a particular fabric or color worked with others around them. Her quilts, which might have seemed to me at first to be a happy accident, or created by someone on the fly, are actually pieced and stitched with a studied attention to the relationships of color, pattern, value, and contrast. While Mary Lou does design as she goes, she's also got a clear sense of what does and doesn't belong in proximity, and how to balance sizes, shapes, and patterns.
Another thing I love about Mary Lou is that while she thinks hard about how to make the best quilt, she's not a stickler for perfection. When it came time to stitch together individually created houses, adding a piece of fabric or better yet, a "strata" of pieced fabrics to make them fit was just fine and often could be used to design advantage. This was not an easy thing for many of my classmates to do, and it was challenging even for someone like me who is a staunch advocate of the School of Good-Enough Quilting, (initiated as I was early on by my friend Anne). But as you can see, our quilts grew throughout the week as we became bolder and more willing to go out on a limb. I've included just a couple class members quilts along with my own. To see more, you can check Mary Lou's site at Mary Lou and Cherries Too.


My quilt became a half-Iowa, half-California house, and I'll have bits of each place incorporated. I chose to include the owl who hoots in my backyard daily on the Iowa side (he'll eventually be sitting on a big tree) and plan to applique the Golden Gate Bridge, which I could see from my Berkeley home, on the Calif. side. Ambitious, perhaps...I've included an early photo and one from the end of the week, so you can get an idea of the way the houses changed as the week progressed.





The idea with these quilts is that in the windows and doorways we'll applique people or pets or things that are important to include in our houses, so there is still much to be done on them all. But you can see we got a great start. And we kept reminding ourselves that while Mary Lou can whip out a quilt in two to three weeks, others have worked on these for years at a time...it's important to remember the process is as important as the product.

One quilt that was different than the rest belonged to Jessica, a student host and class member who was making her first quilt. (She's the "youngster" on the floor in the group photo.) She used all Hoochy Mama blocks and completed a pieced front and back. (It's the one with green stars and orange border.) Susan (whose quilt is fourth from the top of the page and includes her dog Murphy, and who also can be seen sitting behind her sewing machine, amidst her stash) offered to take it home and quilt it on her longarm...such a kind and generous thing to do, since she told me earlier that she had 35 quilts waiting for her to finish at her shop!

In addition to meeting some wonderful folks (including Mary Lou's assistant, Kathy, about whom I'd heard so much) we had terrific facilities: great lighting, comfortable chairs, a big table to ourselves, and windows on two sides of the room.

Movin' On

One of my favorite things about travel is the way it dispels stereotypes. It's so easy to make assumptions about people, or rather about an entire group of people.
I used this stereotyping to my advantage when I went to college in Minnesota: the mystique of the hip California girl was strong and when people I met during that first week of school would assume I surfed or smoked pot, I would smile enigmatically, indicating (I thought) that I was well-versed in those fields, although I had never engaged in either activity.

More recently, stereotyping has been the bane of my existence. As a transplanted Iowan, I'm incensed by the lack of knowledge most Americans have about this state: the idea that all Iowans are farmers (and all farmers are uneducated); the assumption that "salads" in Iowa always involve jello and marshmallows; the constant jokes about hogs and corn fields.

But I do understand why people create stereotypes...it's easy. It means you don't have to think very hard about something or someone. Seeing things in black and white, can be so much simpler than digging into complexities. And at a time when trying to decode health care reform or grasp the beliefs of Shiites and Sunnis, much less figure out what's healthy to cook for dinner and whether Glee is appropriate fodder for eight-year-old minds can leave one exhausted on a daily basis, digging in and holding tight to stereotypes can make life simpler.

As my trip to the John C. Campbell Folk School this week proved, it's always best to have those simple viewpoints challenged. I've spent only small bits of time in the south, and to make life simpler, I bought into many Southern stereotypes: people who are small-minded and not bright, (some of those same assumptions people make about Iowans, I notice). And once again, being among the people I labeled has proven how wrong a stereotype can be.

I learned about the school when my friend Mary Lou Weidman mentioned she was teaching there and it turned out to be something that my husband and I could do together: I could take a quilting class from Mary Lou and Paul could partake of the musical offerings. It offered the opportunity to spend two days driving and talking ("windshield time"), to sample a variety of barbecue, and to learn something new. The trip was all of that and more.

One of my favorite things about John C. Campbell is that at meals (the food is very good) you are encouraged to sit with new people each time. I talked with book arts folks from Pennsylvania, jewelers from Edmonton, spinners from Georgia, woodturners from Alabama, bakers from Florida, and blacksmiths from North Carolina. Being surrounded by people as obsessed with their craft as I am with sewing provided a level playing field from which to start conversations, and they took off from there.
You are encouraged to avoid talking politics and religion, and interestingly few folks asked about what you did in your "real life." The focus was on the craft of your choosing, and those conversations led to many others. And those conversations, as well as the relationships that developed in my quilting class, definitely broke down stereotypes, as the obvious was affirmed: people in Alabama, Georgia, and Virginia are just like people in Iowa and even California: we love our kids, we enjoy watching birds at our feeders, we read and talk about good books, and we love the satisfaction that comes from making things and sharing them with others.

I'll talk more specifically about the class in another posting, but these are some pictures of John C. Campbell Folk School and the week's activities (including a show of classwork on the last day).

Aging gracefully

Trained experts can tell the age of a quilt by looking at the fabric. Depending on the fiber composition, the colors used, the kinds of thread or technique or pattern, it's possible to tell how old something is. But I don't think you need to be an expert to guess when this fabric was made. Think hard about when these slightly psychedelic mushrooms would have been all the rage.

Yup, these fabrics hail from my mid-teen years and were two used in the first pieced item I ever sewed. My friend Sue Hughes and I made patchwork granny skirts in high school—mine was purples and browns. We meticulously cut out and stitched jillions of tiny squares...no rotary cutters, no strip piecing. I would give anything to have a photo of us modeling our creations, but one has never surfaced.

While on a quick visit to my folks in late Dec., I was helping my mom sort through the shelves of her sewing room and found these pieces. The memory of what they were was instantaneous, despite the fact that I probably sewed with them 40 years ago. Fabric is like that...it can be such a connection to the past. My mom stitched each of her daughters patchwork pillows with scraps of dresses she'd made us many years before, and those fabrics, too, resonated. Perhaps I spent too much time smoothing the skirts' cotton between my fingers rather than paying attention in school, but whatever the reason, I remembered wearing those textiles. Fabrics create such connections...between people, between parts of our lives, between friends and family. I'm so glad I found these scraps and despite the fact that my mom had saved too much stuff (and I've inherited that trait) I'm really pleased she'd never pitched them.

I'll be away for awhile...going on an adventure next week that will be all about quilting. Pictures to follow.

Putting off til tomorrow...

I'm not procrastinating (really) but while writing one of my current projects one thing led to another and I stumbled across this blog. Check out the amazing work on Red Pepper Quilts. The blogger lives in Melbourne, Australia, and claims to have two teenagers (although in her profile picture she looks more like the mother of two toddlers).

I've had the pleasure of writing a couple of pieces about Australian quilters and designers Cath Derksema and Kristen Junor, aka Prints Charming (in the winter Quilts and More and the February American Patchwork and Quilting). Kristen and Cath talked about the way that their designs weren't constrained by a long quilting tradition and that their color sense was influenced by Australia's young culture and blue sky. Red Pepper Quilts seems to evoke that same spirit. Bright colors mixed with solids, graphic patterns, straight-forward quilting. I'm going to give her Pieced Scrap Border Quilt tutorial a try.

Happy New Year!

Okay, so the photo is from Christmas, rather than a reflection of the new year. Pearl was smitten with the tree and gifts, but only when we were in the room, so it was easy to prevent any true mayhem. It seemed to have to do with gifts that fit easily in her mouth (although she was quite taken with a wrapped package of lotion—the fragrance seemed to draw her attention, though I'm sure it smelled nothing like the aromas that typically interest her on our walks).

The holidays were grand—family, candy, wine, friends, games, snow, travels, birthday parties, saris, champagne, ginger snaps...I did little writing, no blogging, and just a snippet of photography. So sadly, I can't show you the flannel pajama bottoms that I made for my daughters and son-in-law: one plaid, one polka-dotted, and one Amy Butler's new Love (I ended up with both the Paradise wine and the periwinkle when I cut the wine pair too short for my nearly six-foot daughter...guess I'll just have to make a pair for lil' 'ol me.)

So, that's it for now. I'm working on a fun story about another blogger and she had this Blogging Without Obligation logo attached to her site and so I decided I'd add it to mine...but of course it's not currently working. So check out the link: I like in particular the part that says that you shouldn't feel about your blog like you feel about your treadmill.

Happy Holidays!

Just a quick note to say I hope you all have a great holiday season. I can hardly wait for things to kick into gear. Most of my sewing projects are wrapping up (although I'm guessing there will be some alterations to come). My big worry is the weather: ice and snow is predicted for Christmas Eve, when the relatives are flying in. Keep your fingers crossed for clear skies, or we'll be eating an awful lot of cookies on our own.

May you enjoy the company of friends and loved ones, warmth, peace, and time for sewing.

And if you are looking for some great holiday tunes, check out this NPR link: Jingle Jams.

A red hot(pad) reveal

Finally I'm able to share one of my projects: pot holders for my bookgroup. We have an annual holiday party (last year I knit clunky hats) and cookie exchange: one moved-away member even drives five hours to join us. These women are some of my dearest friends—we met when some of us still had babies and now those babies are seniors in high school and freshmen in college and one of our members is a grandmother.

The nice thing about our gift exchange is it's a totally no-pressure event. Some years people hand-make gifts: Julie knit us each a scarf one year and Maureen appliqued and quilted holiday table runners. Emily makes fabulous truffles and Anne, a former caterer, whips up chocolate-covered toffee that my children anticipate annually. But if it's a year when you've been busy with work or if you're not the handy type, you can give whatever you want...you can even give nothing. (We might excommunicate you however, if you didn't bring cookies.)

These potholders had their genesis in a purchase of wonderful Japanese charm squares I snagged at Quilt Market. I got them from Bunny Designs (whose web site has been under construction for some time). I gave one set to my friend Anne and kept a set for myself. The little tea pots and wonderful polka dots seemed perfect for pot holders.

I learned a bit along the way to completing a baker's dozen. I tried piecing a front and back for the first one, then quilted and bound as I would a quilt (albeit I tried machine binding). It was problematic: the mitered corners wouldn't miter and the binding didn't cover the machine stitching as well as I'd liked. So instead I pieced a front and back and then sewed them right sides together, left an opening so that I could turn inside out, stuffed each with a piece of cotton batting and a piece of Inuslbright, and top-stitched around the edge, securing the opening. I then did a bit of simple quilting, more or less following the shape of the square.

I learned that less stitching works better than too much (the Insulbright would invariably bunch up if I stitched too close to the top-stitching) and that a walking foot made all the difference in keeping the batting smooth. I also made a little tube of fabric and stitched that into the seam when I sewed the front and back together to create a loop for hanging.


Each pot holder is slightly different than the rest, largely as a result of learning as I went along and ultimately running out of fabric. They took a bit longer to make than I anticipated (doesn't everything?), but the finished stack is highly satisfying...

Must run...time to eat cookies and give gifts!

On the road...to neglect

Between pre-holiday travels and the holidays themselves, Pearl the Squirrel has been sorely neglected. I've been doing a bit of holiday sewing as well, but revelation of those projects will have to wait until the gifts are given. I've also managed to miss my one-year blog-iversary, which happened last month. Perhaps after the holidays I'll have a giveaway to celebrate.

But here are a few shots of my travels...well, actually there are just shots of my travels to one quilt shop in particular. I was in Sonoma, California (where, for some reason, I took NO photos). After visiting a friend and his two llamas, two sheep, three dogs, and multiple cats (I know, NO pictures), I just took off driving. The weather was cool, but sunny and crisp and the grapes were turning golden (you'll just have too imagine this...NO pictures) and I headed out from Sonoma toward Petaluma, a town I'd especially loved when I lived in Berkeley. It's definitely not the sleepy little place it was 18 years ago, but it did hold a treasure: The Quilted Angel.

The owner, Barbara, was sitting in a wing chair by the door, finishing up a project and chatting with customers. The classroom was abuzz with quilters working on charity projects.

The shop had tons of fabric, lots of brights and new lines and more traditional stuff, as well.

White-painted branches decorated with lights hung from the ceiling and the shop just seemed to go on and on. Old-fashioned pot holders hung over the entry. (The cloth elves below were sewn by Northern Californian Jan Cochrane.) There was an entire back room with wools and lots of notions that I couldn't even tell was there until I wended my way to the back of the shop.

Barbara said she'd worked at the shop and when the original owner decided to sell, her husband surprised her and bought it for her! Wow! There's a man who knows how to give gifts.

At any rate, I visited a few other shops, but this one is definitely worth a stop if you're in Northern Calif., a place I hope to be more often.

Between visiting our favorite haunts (including The Cheese Board for pizza and our old neighborhood Peet's for coffee in Berkeley) and seeing some of our favorite friends, Paul and I were both reminded how much we enjoyed our years in California.

And I was reminded that despite my many years in the Midwest, California really does feel like home—there's something about the landscape of one's youth that, all these years later, still evokes a visceral response.

Baby, I'm amazed

My good friend Sondra had her baby in October. As a matter of fact, as I was waiting for my luggage in Houston I got the message and wanted to hug total strangers at the airport, I was so excited. (I controlled myself.)

On Saturday, I finally got to meet baby Emily. Another work buddy, Anne (of Pearvana) and I delivered the quilt we'd made for her. We'd hoped to complete it before Emily's arrival, but this way Anne was able to add Emily's birthdate to the label. And, we got to go to Sondra's house, which is out in the country, on a hilltop with a vista that overlooks fields, cattle, and a windbreak of twisty pine trees. She also has a gorgeous sewing studio she and her husband JD created in the second floor of their home. Sondra's a graphic designer, so her house had rich colors and lots of special touches that reflect her visual take on the world.

The quilt gained its inspiration from the farm fabric with the green background (sadly, I no longer have any scraps or selvedge to let you know the name of the fabric). We used the same fabric in black and the backing is the same fabric in green. The combination made me a little nervous, but I think the black fabric and binding kept it from being garish. (And by chance, two of the pink fabrics are designs by my friend Mary Lou Weidman: Crayons and Happy Dots.) The pattern is Shoe Boxes by Terry Atkinson, from her book Time Out Quilts. As we stitched what should have been a very simple quilt on two different machines, I was reminded that while you'd think a quarter-inch would be a standard measurement on any sewing machine, this isn't the case. Some ripping was required.

Sondra says she loves the farm fabrics and the very cute onesie that Anne cleverly adorned with fabric scraps from the quilt. Emily didn't seem impressed by any of it...like the excellent baby that she is, she slept peacefully throughout our visit, except when she stretched and made all those lovely little baby noises.

Under the sea...

When I visited my sister in Virginia in June, I was especially struck by the cheerful curtains she'd made for her bathroom. The tile in the room is white, the walls are an almost electric blue, and the curtains are this wonderful fish fabric: blue and white fish (whose colors include that electric blue) on a sunny yellow background.

She took me to the shop where she'd gotten the fabric and it was a real treat: the fabrics were upholstery and home dec weights, and the prices were very reasonable. (I'm pretty sure the shop is called Second Yard, on Laskin in Virginia Beach.) The shop also had wonderful framed prints and lamps.

My sister gave me the remnants of her curtains and this is what I came up with for her in return.

The pattern is called Three Great Bags, and I'd gotten it when I visited Quilter's Crossing in Madison last spring. The bag's interior fabric was from my stash and the button is a vintage mother-of-pearl number I'd collected somewhere along the way.