In which Travis and I Ponder VFW’s “Double Edged Love”

double edged love
Double Edged Love by Victoria Findlay Wolfe, 2012

So I was walking my dog Travis yesterday and thinking about one of my favorite quilts, Victoria Findlay Wolfe’s “Double Edged Love.” It’s one of her wedding ring quilts, a traditional quilt made modern, as VFW herself likes to say.

When I look at “Double Edged Love” I think of a Robert Rauschenberg collage where images are partially painted over, recognizable and hidden at the same time. Wolfe’s wedding rings are also present and absent; they also cover up and reveal. There’s an implication, underscored by the quilt’s title, that some weddings yield better results than others.

http://www.artnet.com/WebServices/images/ll1012246llgT3bR3CfDrCWBHBAD/robert-rauschenberg-tibetan-lock-and-keys.jpg
Tibetan Lock and Keys, Robert Rauschenberg, 1984

The quilt won “Best in Show” at the first QuiltCon, in 2013, but what’s notable to me about “Double Edged Love” in that context is not its modernity, but its nod to tradition. So, I wondered as I walked Travis up Spencer Street, is it a modern traditional quilt? A quilt that uses contemporary fabric and traditional block elements, but not necessarily traditional block patterns?

Not quite. Not really. “Double Edged Love” is at once more traditional than most modern traditional quilts and more outside of the box. But I don’t think it looks like the poster child for modern quilting, either.

“Let’s call ‘Double Edged Love’ a disrupted traditional quilt,” I told Travis as we continued our walking and pondering, and Travis looked like he thought that was a good idea.

Okay, so “disrupted traditional” probably isn’t going to catch on as a category any time soon. But in a weird way, disrupting tradition is exactly what “Double Edge Love” did when it won QuiltCon—it disrupted not only the tradition it was engaging with, the tried-and-true double wedding ring quilt, but also some of the traditions of modern quilting. By 2013, modern quilting was old enough as a movement to have a generally understood aesthetic–minimalist, clean design, alternate gridwork, solid fabrics, etc.–and it was mature enough to consider new ideas of what it might mean to be modern.

https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/661555137924612096/o8AqVwHg_400x400.png

Modern quilting it’s been argued, has many roots—Amish Quilts, Art Quilts, the Gee’s Bend Quilts, Minimalism, Abstract Expressionism, Target. You can look at its family tree and everything makes sense more or less: this begat that begat this begat that. And then suddenly: here’s something new, a deviation, born of parents from warring tribes, full of hybrid vigor. In modern quilting’s lineage “Double Edged Love” is the surprise love child that knocks everyone back on their feet.

“Double Edged Love” both reflects and gives us insight into the culture we live in. Many of us are struggling to decide what traditions to hold onto and which to discard. We live in a time in which single adults outnumber married adults, gender identity is fluid, and more of us than ever answer “none” when asked our religious affiliation. “Double Edged Love” is a traditional quilt made nontraditional (disrupted traditionalism!), with parts of itself seemingly erased, parts created out of improvised pieces. At the same time, it literally relies on conventional means and patterns to hold itself together. Like most of us, I’d wager.

However we choose to categorize it, “Double Edged Love” will stand out as one of the most important quilts of the early 21st century. Like our culture and our quiltmaking, it takes from the old and the new—and then dreams itself into something we’ve never seen before. It’s the quilt that opens the door to whatever comes next.

IMG_0345
Travis Dowell, Art Critic and Good Boy

Episode 186: National Quilting Day and Other Adventures


Download this episode (right click and save)


natl quilting

Me and my quilty friends at the Durham Bulls Ballpark on National Quilting Day!

 

Sorry to be late with this one; this episode seemed to take forever to put together!

The movie I mention on Quilt Diary Day 3 is called “Without a Trace,” not “Missing,” as I say on the episode.

Here’s a link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Without_a_Trace_%28film%29

Math update: I say that if you have (4) 2.5″ squares, you end up with a 4″ block, but actually you get a 4.5″ block. Sigh.

birds

Birds in the Air blocks

 

Travis in repose:

Travis in Profile

 

Quilt Judgement Day

My friend Daisy posted this on Facebook the other day: Have any of you given any thought to submitting anything to QuiltCon next year? I’m playing with an idea . . . Not sure I’m ready for that kind of rejection, though.

I hear you, sister. Rejection’s the worst. There’s almost no context I can think of where it feels good. The problem is that if we don’t risk getting our hearts broken now and then we stay stuck in our little corners and ruts. We remain unstretched; in fact, we may begin to grow brittle. Fearful. Curled up like dead spiders on the windowsill.

Does that mean I think Daisy should go for it?

Not necessarily. I mean, it depends.

On the one hand, if making a quilt to enter into competition seems like fun way for Daisy to push herself as a designer and improve her quilting skills, then why not? As Zina, one of the quilters that responded to Daisy’s query, said, “You can’t look at a rejection as an assault on your character or talent. Especially with a show like Quilt Con, where the emphasis is placed more on design than anything else. You should still make a quilt that speaks to your heart, because if you don’t get into the Big Show, at least you are left with a quilt that you love!”

What are reasons not to enter? Some of the respondents had specific concerns about the judging at QuiltCon. Katie, for instance, felt that QuiltCon judges privilege art quilts and “emotional” quilts over quilts that are functional and apolitical, suggesting that she doesn’t feel that the kind of quilts she makes would get serious consideration. Others found that the possibility of being rejected made the idea of submitting quilts to any juried show untenable. They admitted that it isn’t in their emotional make-up to take that risk.

But it was Tina who tapped into something that goes beyond the fear of being judged and rejected. She wrote about the fear of being shamed.

“I have no problems with quilt judges,” Tina said. “I was very sad for Melissa [Averinos, whose quilt “My Brother’s Jeans” won the 2016 QuiltCon Best of Show] because of the public remarks made about her very emotional quilt. I’m sure we all know the pain of overhearing disparaging comments about ourselves. Being a member of the quiltcon rejects [a flickr group for people whose quilts weren’t accepted for the show] sounds great, but the idea of actually getting in and hearing that I was unworthy or my art was unworthy is scary to me. Maybe I’m a little too insecure but I find such massive scrutiny terrifying.”

Yep. As far as I’m concerned, these days it’s not the idea of being rejected that’s so scary; it’s the idea of winning.

Like Tina, I don’t have a problem with judges; I have no reason to think that quilt show judges don’t take their jobs seriously or work hard to make responsible, defensible choices. That their ultimate choices might be somewhat subjective, particularly at QuiltCon, where the aesthetic and criteria are still evolving, is not a surprise nor a particular concern. This year it’s one sort of quilt that wins, next year it’s going to be another. It’s refreshing, if you think about it.

Now I think a lot of people were surprised that the judges chose “My Brother’s Jeans” for best of show. It’s an idiosyncratic quilt, sui generis, deeply personal, one that doesn’t really scream “modern quilt” (at least not to me). I actually think it’s beautiful quilt, but a lot of people I respect remain unconvinced that it was the right choice. And that’s fine–of course we’re going to have differing opinions.

But our opinions should be stated respectfully, with our compassionate understanding that a real, live human being stands on the other side of the quilt we’re discussing. I don’t think this has entirely been case with the discussion around “My Brother’s Jeans.” There’ve been great blog posts, like Katie’s over at Katie’s Quilting Corner, where I feel she tries to think seriously about the quilt and give an honest response. But there’s been a lot of snark. A lot of “I don’t get it.”

To which my response is: try to get it. Even if it’s just for five minutes, try to see what the judges saw. Try to open your mind and heart to the quilt. Because we all know how hurtful it is to be dismissed, swatted away like a fly. Could we please learn some compassion here? We’ve got to do better. We’ve got to stop shaming each other.

I propose we make a Quilter’s Code of Public Conduct. Maybe it could go something like this:

On my honor, I will try:

  • to not say snarky things, in person or online, about someone else’s quilt. I understand that different quilters have different goals for their quilts, different aesthetic preferences, and different skill levels. If I find a quilt unattractive or poorly made, I will keep it to myself unless it’s part of a constructive discussion in which my real identity is known to all participating. I will not hide behind an avatar or screen name when putting forth criticism.
  • I will look for the good in all quilts. If I can find absolutely nothing to like in a particular quilt, I will entertain the notion that maybe I should just move on and keep my mouth shut.
  • I will make any and all critical remarks with humility and compassion. I will ask myself what is the point of making this remark? Does it truly add to our community discussion? For every criticism I make, I will try my best to find something to praise. In fact, I will preface my critical remarks with my praise.

We all feel vulnerable when we take risks. We are vulnerable. We could get hurt. But how about we all make this promise to Daisy and everyone else who dares–who has the friggin’ amazing audacity–to put herself out there in a big way: we will stand behind you. We’ve got your back. So go out there and give ’em hell.

The Invisible Quilter

The other day I went to a friend’s birthday lunch at a local cafe. I was seated among a group of women I didn’t know, and when I mentioned that I made quilts I got the response I almost always get when amongst the muggles (i.e. nonquilters): admiration (“that’s so cool!”) underscored by confusion. People still make quilts? When I mentioned my favorite quilting event is coming up soon—the 85th annual Uncle Eli’s Quilting Party—the woman next to me asked in an incredulous voice, “Do people actually go?”

Sure, I told her. Lots of folks from the Eli Whitney community attend, as do quilters from all around the state. I then gave her the standard Yes, Quilters Still Exist spiel: Do you know there are 16 million quilters in this country? That quilting is a 3 billion dollar a year industry? That there are dozens of quilting magazines and podcasts, and hundreds if not thousands quilting blogs? Quilting, as the Donald would say, is YUUUGE.

The response is always the same: I had no idea.

Why is that? Why do the muggles not know that we exist? If you do the math, 16 million quilters means that 1 out of every 20 Americans quilts. The fact that my local grocery store stocks six quilting magazines on its periodicals rack (For the Love of Quilting, Quiltmaker, Quilter’s World, AQS American Quilter, and Quilting Arts) suggests that quilting is very much a going concern in this country.

So why is the fact that we make quilts so shocking? Why don’t more people know that quilting is vibrant, thriving craft practiced by women (and a few men) all over the country and across the world?

I have a few ideas. I’ll begin with the obvious:

Quilting is a woman’s thing. Believe me, if 16 million men were quilters, Sports Illustrated would cover it like an Olympic event. The Best of Show quilts from Houston and Paducah would be on the front page of the New York Times. There would be a 24-hour quilting cable channel, and quilters’ trading cards would be available at every supermarket checkout line.

(I can just hear it now: “Cool, I got a Joe Cunningham!” “Man, I already have two Luke Haynes! Who’ll trade me for a Ricky Tims?”)

The media does a piss-poor very bad job of covering quilting. I understand that your average features writer is not a quilt historian, but when, oh when, will we get away from these sorts of headlines:

  • “Quilt group threads modern style into old-fashioned hobby;”
  • “Kansas City Regional Quilt Festival puts a modern take on a vintage art form,”
  • and the nearly ubiquitous “Not your grandmother’s blanket.”

Most articles treat quilting as though it were a dusty butter churn found in a long forgotten great-aunt’s attic. The general assumption seems to be women stopped quilting somewhere around 1930 and have just recently rediscovered it.

“Modern quilts aren’t exactly what your great-grandmother used to make,” a Toronto Globe & Mail reporter reassures us. “Like the resurgence in rug hooking, another practical craft of generations past, quilting clubs are popping up across the country and guilds are consistently gaining new members.”

Yes, like the resurgence in rug hooking. Yes, exactly like that.

It must be said that sometimes we quilters are not our own best advocates. “Quilters,” one quilter told the Columbia County News-Times in a recent article, “are not a bunch of little old ladies sitting around,” an  oft-referenced  image  that has lacked currency for for decades. In the same article another quilter goes on record to say that the modern quilt movement is “a whole sort of revival of quilters.”

(ETA: One of the quilters quoted in this article has written to tell me that the quotes were in response to a young reporter who began their conversation by exclaiming that her grandmother made quilts. So in fact, the quilters were trying to convince the reporter that lots of people quilt, not just our grannies. Always good to know the context of a quote!)

While it’s generally accepted that in the U.S. quilting had a fallow period from roughly WWII until the late 1960s (though if you read Roderick Karcofe’s Unconventional & Unexpected: American Quilts Below the Radar 1950-2000, you might reconsider), once quilting took off again in the 1970s, it never stopped. The only time quilters have needed reviving in the last forty-odd years is at the end of a long day at Quilt Expo, and we’ve long given up smelling salts in favor of a nice Cabernet.

(Here’s a dream: next year when every newspaper in Georgia does a piece on QuiltCon 2017, wouldn’t it be great if the only time the word “grandmother” appears with the word “quilt” is in the headline “Woman becomes grandmother when her daughter gives birth on QuiltCon’s Best of Show quilt”?)

There are two other reasons I can think of for quilters’ invisibility in the larger culture. Nowadays, when so many people are hard-pressed to thread a needle, much less sew a straight line and a quarter-inch seam, the muggles believe that making a quilt is a near-impossible endeavor, on the level of performing neurosurgery or splitting an atom, and should not be attempted outside of a laboratory. The idea that someone could make a quilt in her own home by sewing little pieces of fabric together using a sewing machine? Outlandish! Preposterous!

Finally, most of us quilters work in a gift economy. Quilting is a 3 billion dollar a year industry because of the stuff we buy—fabric, classes, books, machines, conference passes—not because of the stuff we sell. Most of us don’t sell our quilts; we give them away. For free. For zero money. In a culture that measures a thing’s worth in dollars, and celebrates and idolizes and fetishizes the stuff the costs the most dollars, is it any wonder that homemade quilts fly under the radar and the women who make them are no where to be seen?


Also on The Off-Kilter Quilt blog…

Some Thoughts on Judging the Modern Quilt

 

Episode 185: Get Your Big Star Back On!

Download this episode (right click and save)


 

 

vfwbigstar back

The Big Star block for the VFW Star back. Colors are off–the background fabric is periwinkle and the star is a lot pinker than it looks here.

I’ve now pieced the back and bought the batting. Next up: the quilting! But how to quilt? Haven’t decided that yet …

And here’s the first version of the red and white donation block quilt:

first red and white

It’s that jazzy stripe that wasn’t working. I’m almost finished with the revised top, which I’ll post a picture of next time.

You can find the Michigan quilt doc book on Amazon.com for three bucks used. Worth it!

Here are the pix from the book that I talk about on the ep:

crazy daisy quilt

Don’t you think she kind of looks like Daisy from Downton Abbey?

Here’s the snowflake quilt (note the blue ribbon in the middle):

snowflake quilt

The book of short stories I’m reading right now: You Should Pity Us Instead by Amy Gustine.

I’m posting a link to this blog because I really like the name, … And Then We Set It On Fire. Description:

A TECHNIQUE DRIVEN Blog dedicated to mastery of surface design techniques. First we dye, overdye, paint, stitch, resist, tie, fold, silk screen, stamp, thermofax, batik, bejewel, stretch, shrink, sprinkle, Smooch, fuse, slice, dice, AND then we set it on fire using a variety of heat tools.

Sounds kinda cool, huh? http://andthenwesetitonfire.blogspot.com/

Here’s a new-to-me quilt blog that I like a lot: http://www.dawnchorusstudio.com/

I’m working on getting my blog roll updated. If you’re a long-time listener and would like your blog in my list, let me know!

Why Quilts (Really) Matter

I recently watched Mary Fons’ webinar, You Call That a Quilt? Quilt Styles in America: Traditional, Contemporary, Studio/Art, and Modern, on the Modern Quilt Guild website. This tour de force overview of American quilts did not disappoint, though I felt a little breathless by the end—Mary covered a lot of territory in a short period of time in her entertaining, high energy style.

I have to admit, though, that I was surprised when she mentioned the PBS series Why Quilts Matter: History, Art and Politics and said something along the lines of “You have to watch this!” We’re talking about a show that over nine episodes worth of quilt talk didn’t once mention her mother, Marianne Fons, arguably one of the most important people in American quilting for the last thirty years.

Not to mention that the series isn’t all that good.

In fact, Why Quilts Matter is problematic on a number of levels. The narration is poorly written, sentimental and clichéd. “The quilt may seem as American as apple pie, but it did not originate in America,” the first episode begins, giving you your first clue that Aaron Sorkin didn’t write the script.

Even if the writing were up to snuff, the emphasis on money in Why Quilts Matter would still be offensive. “Learn what makes one antique quilt more valuable and important than another,” one episode description reads; another entire episode is devoted to the quilt marketplace, ignoring the fact that most quilters operate in a gift economy, giving away their quilts for free.

Even more insulting is not only the absence of Fons and Porter but also the average American quilter. Only a few of the 16 million quilters that make up Quilt Nation appear in the series’ 250 minutes, and unless they’re famous, they’re seen only briefly and mostly shown from unflattering angles. The average quilter has been displaced by far more important people—primarily antiques dealers. In fact, one of the prevailing messages over the course of six-plus hours is that quilts largely matter because there is a market for antique and art quilts. If people will pay lots of money for something, why then of course it matters.

But the biggest problem with Why Quilts Matter is that the claims it makes for the importance of quilts—that they’re historic documents, that some are worthy of hanging in museums, and others have been channels for women’s political expression—have very little to do with why quilts matter.

So why do quilts matter? Here are just a few of the reasons I can think of:

1. For centuries, women have poured their creative energy into making quilts. Whether these quilts were works of art or just nice bedcovers, they were imbued with their makers’ intelligence and ingenuity. For many women throughout history, making quilts was one of their few means of creative self-expression. A woman couldn’t necessarily justify pulling out her paints and easel to do a study of a prairie sunset, but she could get out her needle and thread without anyone questioning how she was using her time. Quilts matter because they are expressions of women’s creativity, resourcefulness and skill.

2. Once cotton fabric became widely available, quilting was anybody’s—and everybody’s—game. The means of production were simple and at hand: needle, thread, fabric, fingers. A piano might not be in the budget, but anybody could take a couple of old shirts and a pair of scissors and go to town. The great secret of quiltmaking is that anyone can make a quilt. Anyone. When it comes to arts and crafts, you don’t get any more democratic than quilting. Throughout history, women of all ages, ethnicities and social strata have made quilts. Quilts matter because whoever you are, wherever you are, you can make a quilt. And that’s cool and kind of profound.

3. Quilts matter because here in the 21st century U.S. quilting is the last traditional American craft still being widely practiced. Go to any periodical rack in any grocery store and you’ll find at least one quilting magazine, maybe two or three. Magazines about blacksmithing, glass blowing, basketweaving and decoy carving? Not so many. In fact, zero. Millions of people make quilts every year, for themselves and for family and friends. Moreover, these quilts are very often functional—which is to say, they’re made to be used. Traditional crafting of all kinds is still practiced in this country, but the products tend to lean toward the artistic or esoteric object—the ceramic bowl that you can’t actually eat out of, the beautiful basket that’s made for decoration, not for carrying your groceries home from the market.

4. Quilts matter because making things matter. Humans are born makers, and we are less than we could be when we don’t make stuff. This is something I’ll write more about in another post, but what I’ll say now is that quilts are some of the last, great homemade objects, and quilters are passionate about making quilts because the making is so deeply satisfying.

One day someone will make a series that does justice to quilts and quilters in a comprehensive, in-depth and truthful way. In the meantime, go watch Mary Fons over at the Modern Quilt Guild (you have to be a member to access the video—worth it) or check out The Great American Quilt Revival. If you think quilts matter, I’d recommend giving Why Quilts Matter a pass.

Episode 184: Getting Back to the Business at Hand

Download this episode (right click and save)


vfwtopfullborder

VFW top with completed border: What color should the binding be?

 

Great blogpost about QuiltCon 2016 and the Best of Show quilt from Katie at Katie’s Quilting Corner:

http://katiesquiltingcorner.com/2016/02/questions-and-opinions-on-quiltcon-west-2016.html

 

Here’s a website that will give you the excuse you need to do handiwork during meetings!

http://cognitiveanchoring.com/

 

Books I’m reading:

Under the Wide and Starry Sky by Nancy Horan

The Prize: Who’s In Charge of America’s Schools by Dale Russakoff

 

24 Blocks just posted a video on hand-quilting–check it out:

http://24blocks.com/cs-hand-quilting/?utm_source=24b-24b&utm_medium=social-fb&utm_term=030216&utm_content=link&utm_campaign=cs-hand-quilting&origin=24b_24b_social_fb_link_cs-hand-quilting_030216