Quilt No. 117
February 2017
This is the thing
about being a card-carrying rule follower – challenges become irresistible. All those delicious rules! They channel unbridled creativity right into
the cozy end of the funnel. Instead of
falling prey to the loosey-goosiness of too many possibilities, there is a path
that is already laid out. Certain things can be done, certain things
cannot. It’s pure heaven for a rule
follower!
The year’s quilt guild
challenge was to create a “medallion quilt”.
My definition of “medallion” is personified by Mr. T. and mountain of
bling. How would I ever come up with a
quilt based on that? Fortunately, as the
description of the quilt version was revealed, it became clear that it had
nothing to do with gaudy gold neckware. Whew!
A medallion quilt is
one that has the center of the quilt as its focus. Borders are added around that portion. The center can be a printed fabric panel (sometimes
a picture) or something pieced to give the impression of a whole, for example a
lone star. Turns out - thanks to my
sister - I had just the right thing for my medallion quilt lying around in my
bloated pile of impulse purchases.
The center panel of
this quilt is a piece called Greeting the Moon, from
Red Rooster Fabrics. I saw it when
I was attending the Quilt Canada 2016 event.
I wanted it, but I also wanted pretty much everything that fell within
my line of sight. So I didn’t allow myself to buy it.
On Day Two of Quilt
Canada I casually mentioned the crane panel to my sister. She knows I’m pretty fond of red-crowned cranes, having
used them before in my
Hibakusha quilt.
I still have a bit of fabric left over from that quilt. I would it put in a safe if I had one. It’s that special. I’ve used that crane fabric a few times for
postcard quilts for friends who were battling cancer. So far these cranes have been very
successful.
“I saw this panel of
cranes that I really liked” I commented as we wandered on blissfully blistered
feet. “Did you buy it?” she asked. I admitted that I had not. “Well go get it now” she said. I started stammering about having already
bought enough stuff and how I didn’t know what I would do with all of it. My sister was already dragging around a pack
sack loaded with my purchases, pretending she wasn’t my personal pack horse. (Did I mention she’s a non-quilter, and just
about the world’s greatest sport?) She
short circuited my blathering by drawing herself up to her full Big Sister
Height. Then she lasered me with her
well practiced Big Sister Glare. “I said
GO. Get it. Now.” I knew better than to
defy her. She is older than me and
taller than me and she has assured me that she is smarter than me. I’m at least smart enough to know not to argue
with her. I obediently slunk over to the
vendor and bought the crane panel. I didn't even worry about what I might do with it.
A few months later the
President’s Challenge was announced at quilt guild - the medallion
challenge. Too bad I had nothing,
nothing at all that I could use for this challenge. What a lack of foresight on my part,
considering that quilt stores sometimes shop at my house, due to my vast fabric
selection. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to
muster anything at all for the challenge.
Eventually, during one
of my rummaging sessions in my fabric stash, I unearthed the cranes panel. It was an absolutely ideal starting point for
the challenge! Turns out my sister is
right. She is smarter than me. Do not let her know I’ve confirmed this.
I’ve added five
borders on each side of the panel, and four on the top/bottom of this quilt. I was going to give it a “light” machine
quilting using metallic thread and just outline a few waves here and
there. Meh. I’d be done in two hours. But...once I got started on the waves, a few
lines here and there made no sense to the eye or the quilt. It became every line that got quilted.
Of course, the bottom of the quilt became
narrower and narrower in comparison with the top. Quilts must be quilted
with equal density over the whole surface, or you get rippling. This is a rule that can’t really be gotten
around, kind of like gravity. If you go
crazy quilting it tightly in one section, you must repeat your act of craziness
in all sections. This meant I had to climb that mountain of quilting all the
way to the top, equalizing it by adding in waves and clouds. I actually thought I might never finish, that
I would perish at my machine because I’d failed to take along enough
supplemental oxygen to get me to the summit. By the end, my sewing machine and I had become
one, a cybernetic organism that lived only to make stitches and trips to the snack
drawer. We took turns doing both.
Eventually it did come to an end - I couldn’t
find even a tiny section left where I could add any more stitches. I declared the quilt finished and my love
affair with cranes over. Completely
over.