Den Lille Havfrue og Venner; The Little Mermaid and Friends

 

The Little Mermaid and Friends

Quilt No. 151

 
A humble tea towel can be clever enough to be inspirational, especially when it’s Ib Antoni’s art work. A gifted designer well known for his depiction of Danish life, he is often referred to as the national illustrator of Denmark. His artwork is a delight to peruse.
 
When I first saw the tea towel with Antoni’s design, The Little Mermaid and the Tourist, I could see how the story may have unfolded for that lucky tourist. After hours of delay, and a night spent wandering in a foreign airport eating random iffy snacks out of equally iffy vending machines he had arrived in Denmark. His cherished camera was still with him and his wallet remained smugly snuggled in the secret pocket of his underwear. His suitcase had been rerouted to Tokyo, but who cares? There are plenty of clothes in Denmark. The Traveler’s Adrenaline kicked in and he was ready to commit the beauty of Denmark to photographic history.  

The bonanza happened on Day Five – an actual mermaid in his viewfinder! He had achieved the prize-winning photo that would seal his fame and maybe fortune, freeing him from his dreary grey office job, transporting him away from the sea of desks and the ceaseless yakking. Best trip ever!
 
My friend Jennifer was lucky enough to revisit the Danish family who had hosted her younger self as an exchange student from Canada. While reconnecting with her second “family” 36 years later, she viewed the sights, reveled in the food, and bought the best tea towel in the country.  

Upon returning to Canada, the esteemed tea towel demanded more than an existence consorting with lesser tea towels in a drawer. One or two even had stains! Could the mermaid and the tourist possibly be quilted for display?  Turns out…they could!

Why Mexico?

 

Quilt No. 145

February 2023

Now here is a serious question.  If you could escape the cold winter, the freezing rain, the snow, the crusted-over windshields, the bitter winds blowing up your skirt, would you not make it so? Now suppose you weighed less than a gram. Travel arrangements to a friendlier latitude would be pretty much mandatory. The Monarch butterflies have triumphed over this, harnessing evolution for a satisfying outcome. While you and I are parting with plenty of cash for fancy resorts in Mexico, the Monarchs fly passport- and red-tape free to the exotic forests of that blessedly warm country.

Each year Cherrywood Hand Dyed Fabrics offers a new quilting challenge.  They chose a theme for the challenge and curate eight of their beautiful hand dyed fabrics to create a kit. Participants use only those eight fabrics from the kit to create a 20x20 inch quilt.  Previous challenges have included Bob Ross, graffiti, Princess Diana, and many more. To enter the challenge, photos of the completed quilt are submitted, and judges choose the finalists. These quilts are then sent to Cherrywood in Baxter Minnesota.  During the fall, the quilts begin journeying to various shows, including the Houston Quilt Market and Festival, Road to California, Sisters Outdoor Quilt Show (Oregon) and several American Quilting Society and other shows. 

This year, I was lucky enough to have Blanche, my monarch butterfly friend, juried into the show. It took me quite a few nail-biting months to come up with this concept.  The challenge fabrics sat on my quilting table for an interminable period of no ideas.  Finally, I started to think about why tiny butterflies would spend all that energy migrating 4-5000 kilometers from Canada to Mexico each year. It became obvious.  Who doesn’t love a tropical resort?

Here’s the first drawing I made that became Why Mexico?  Lucky Blanche will get to go to several quilt shows this year and next. She can save Mexico for another year. 

Original concept drawing for Why Mexico?

Accidental Hacienda

 

Accidental Hacienda
Quilt No. 148

One day we were out walking in the forest (more aptly called “the bush” here in the north) and found a trove of rusted treasure.  I say “treasure” because rusted items are surprisingly rare these days, especially those with the flat profile needed to “rust dye” fabric.  Flat pieces are essential.  Past attempts using amply dimensioned items such as railroad spikes have produced spotty messes and were somewhat gross and frighteningly anti-inspirational.

The rusted pieces we found were either long rectangles or vaguely letter E shaped pieces.  I wasn’t sure what I could make out of that, but surely a quilt design lurked in the heart of those pieces!

To “rust dye” fabric, you use white cotton, spray it with a water/vinegar solution, and set the rusted pieces on it.  It’s then covered with plastic and left to do its own thing in the great outdoors. A few hours works best. Any longer and you end up with more holes than cloth.  A stroke of brilliance being nowhere to be found, I simply placed the pieces on the prepared cloth and hoped for the best. 

Rusted pieces as laid out on fabric

I was kind of happy with the end result.  But what exactly was it?  Months, then, shamefully, years went by, and every time I thought I had a sliver of an idea, the execution of it eluded me.  I was pretty sure I could turn it into a pueblo, one of those suitably rust-coloured Mexican villages, but no, at the end of the day/week/month no pueblo emerged.  Next, my idea was a rusted-out abandoned factory. That would be a cinch, it could be kind of abstract, just a suggestion of a factory.  I looked at photos of all kinds of defunct factories…nothing emerged from my fabric that resembled anything factory-like, not even a pseudo factory.  I tried simply machine quilting the piece to see if its inner transcendent beauty would emerge.  Nope.

Cloth after rust dyeing

Tired of grinding my teeth over this unyielding piece of fabric, I hung it in the closet where I keep my fabric.  At least a year went by, and one day as I was looking for something in one of the drawers, the rusted fabric snagged the corner of my eye and I thought, ‘That looks like a hacienda’.  I went back to my quilt table with the echo of that thought and had to ask myself ‘What on earth is a hacienda?’  I made an immediate trip to the land of Google Images.  Turns out, just about anything is called a hacienda these days, as long as it lacks aluminum siding.  Surely, I could turn my piece of fabric into something that might be construed as a hacienda, even if it was by accident that I had arrived at this concept.

I set to work and cut the centre “shape” away from where the rust had spread out from the edges of the pieces, appliqueing it onto a rocky setting in a desert.  The landscaping was a great opportunity to use up golden sparkly fabric from a blouse a friend no longer wanted (the conical trees), flowerbed fabric from my friend Helen, brick and roofing fabric from my sister, and tiger print fabric (the tree trunk) from my daughter. The tree leaves are made from layers of organza, sandwiched between a top and bottom layer of soluble stabilizer and machine quilted with metallic thread. 

It may have been a long journey fraught with ever-collapsing ideas, but quite by accident, I had arrived at my hacienda.

Souls (2022)

 

Quilt No. 143 (Formerly No. 52)

July 2022

I’ve learned quite a bit about quilting in the sixteen years that have elapsed since 2006 when I did the first iteration of this Souls quilt.  You can see how it looked in 2006 here.

Below is the original inspiration for that quilt, as I’ve previously described in that much older post:

Tuesdays with Morrie, a long-standing bestseller by Mitch Albom, tells the true story of his relationship with his professor, Morrie Schwartz. Mitch meets with Morrie every Tuesday afternoon as Morrie progresses through the devastating disease process ALS. His view of life and what is meaningful is profoundly changed as he begins to absorb Morrie’s final lessons.

Mitch Albom writes:

 As my visits with Morrie go on I begin to read about death, how different cultures view the final passage. There is a tribe in the North American Arctic, for example, who believe that all things on earth have a soul that exists in a miniature form of the body that holds it – so that a deer has a tiny deer inside it, and a man has a tiny man inside him. When the large being dies, that tiny form lives on. It can slide into something being born nearby, or it can go to a temporary resting place in the sky, in the belly of a great feminine spirit, where it waits until the moon can send it back to earth.

Sometimes, they say, the moon is so busy with the new souls of the world that it disappears from the sky. That is why we have moonless nights. But in the end, the moon always returns as do we all. That is what they believe.

I’ve always felt that my quilted interpretation of this philosophy was too simple and did not sufficiently honor the waiting animal and human souls.  In 2006, the quilt I made reflected the degree of quilting experience I had at that time. In 2022, with another ninety quilts under my belt, I was finally ready to change it up a bit.

Flying Geese Block

I removed the binding and all of the hand quilting, and discarded the wide black border. After all those years, I still could not come up with an appropriate looking set of animals to grace that swooping curve that cut behind the moon. So, instead of a trail of animals, I put in a strip of off-center curved flying geese. So, where are the birds? There are no actual “geese” – the term “flying geese” means a quilt block made of a central triangle with two end pieces that turn the block into a rectangle. I used a fabric that transitioned though several shades of blue-green so that there would be a colour change with each successive flying geese block in the swoop. The blocks include shimmery gold fabric stabilized with iron-on cotton. A second “swoop” was added in by couching two lines of gold cord and then quilting between those lines.

I re-quilted the whole piece and added quilting in the moon.  I placed wool roving over the Earth and quilted over it to make some nice swirly clouds. This still left the question of where to put the animals. I decided to move them to the outer border of the quilt.  For each animal, I used a line drawing, printed it out, and pinned the printout to a square of black fabric. I then stitched oh so carefully along each line on the printout, and then removed the paper.  Sounds straight forward, but it was an exercise in Herculean patience, as each block took 2 – 4 hours to complete. I then sewed these blocks together to make new borders for the quilt, attached them, and covered up the exposed backs of these squares with a really wide facing on the back of the quilt. To my amazement, it all worked out, and I felt that the souls were finally better served as they waited to be returned to their new lives.

Polar Bear Express

 

Quilt No. 142

August 2022

This quilt is proof that lightning can indeed strike twice in the same place. 

In 2017 I completed Polar Bear Dip, a Row by Row Experience block designed by Christina Doucette (Needleworks Studio, Cochrane, Ontario).  The pattern for that quilt block was a gift from a friend who decided to pursue other projects.  (You can read more about Polar Bear Dip and Row by Row here.)

In 2022 one of our older guild members felt it was time to pass her stash on to other quilters.  Two members helped out, fearlessly taking on the challenge of how to share this great gift.  They came up with a brilliant plan, placing patterns and projects that were in various states of completion into brown paper bags.  These were then randomly distributed at the guild. No peeking into the bag was allowed. 

When I opened my bag, I could see that the karma of the quilting universe had struck. I had received the pattern for the block Polar Bear Express, a companion piece to the Polar Bear Dip quilt I’d finished in 2017.  Not only was it from the same designer and shop, it had some fabrics that matched those I’d used in my previous quilt. Karma? Lightning? Quilt Gods?  Since the block had travelled though many hands to reach me, I set aside all other projects and made this block into a small quilt that can now hang with its companion.

Top: Polar Bear Dip
Bottom: Polar Bear Express

The town of Cochrane, possibly the only location with a world class live polar bear habitat, is steeped in polar bear motifs. To that end, they even have a polar bear painted on their water tower, so I’ve added a very tiny one to the water tower in this quilt.  It’s my belief that you can never have too many polar bears, even if they’re cloth ones.

Phone Call

 

Quilt No. 141

January 2022

You never know where a mere drawing will take you.  In this case it took this quilt all the way to Quilt Canada’s National Juried Show 2022.

I like to doodle while I’m talking on the phone.  Since my rational brain is taken up by conversation, the doodles I make are far more varied than the ones I actually “think” about. After I’d amassed quite a few of these during my Tuesday night phone calls with my sister, I thought it might be interesting to see if I could cobble them together into a cohesive whole. I also thought this might be a good subject for the guild’s challenge - to do a monochromatic quilt.  That’s a quilt that’s made from one colour and its variations. These two criteria proved to be ridiculously challenging, akin to climbing Everest in bedroom slippers and a tiara.

First came the design, where I took all the doodles I wanted to use and, using tracing paper, fitted them together onto a large sheet of grid paper. I kept moving the outline shapes around. I also kept adjusting them into recognizable objects.  What can I say – in my mind anything abstract is simply an exercise in modifying it into a “real” object.  So, things morphed, and an apple and a globe and several other doodles from the first design did not make the cut as it evolved to include a dragon, an armadillo, a black fish, a school of fish, a snake, an alien, and even an embryo.  How all these items are connected is a story yet to be revealed. Even to me.

The monochromatic part did not work out, as I had begun using fabric that varied in colour gradation from pink to purple.  It worked so well for this design that I just gave in to it and turned my monochromatic efforts to another quilt, My Mother’s Cats.

To bring this quilt to life, it required an intense amount of detailed stitching, with satin stitching around many of the shapes and minutely spaced machine quilting over the entire surface.  A three-dimensional flower was finally crafted after numerous attempts, giving the quilt a much-needed focus. I filed all the failed flower attempts with my bedroom slippers and tiara, in the Probably Never Box.

Under Way

 

Quilt No. 140

March 2022

Most organized groups of quilters pose challenges for their members.  These are generally fun and always optional, designed to get your creative juices and motivation beefed up. You don’t necessarily have to twist yourself into a knot to come up with your own challenge quilt, you can pass and no one will mind.  However, some of the most strenuous challenges come from completely innocuous places.  Under Way, was just that. It was a self-challenge. No group, just me. There was nowhere to hide, no chair in which I could bask while others took the lead and wowed me with their beautiful creations.

Beneath the Waves Panel

It began with a fabric panel gifted to me by my friend Ruth.  A “panel” is generally a picture printed on fabric, designed to be used as a whole piece.  It may depict a scene such as a landscape, or a bouquet of flowers, or a cute grouping of animals begging to be made into a baby quilt.  It might be horses, or maybe a Halloween or Christmas scene, with Santa or snowmen as the top favourites. 

This quilt was made from the Hoffman Fabrics panel, Beneath the Waves.  A panel may have a scene that stretches across the whole 40 inch width of the fabric, or, as in the case of Beneath the Waves, there may be two identical panels printed across the width.  So, I received not one but two copies of this stunning fabric.  Stunning to the eye…and the brain.  It had tremendous colours and appeal, but I could not see how I might use it. 

After I’ve used or auditioned each fabric for a quilt, I place it in a basket, and when the depth of fabric in the basket is sufficient to become dangerous, I put all the fabrics away. New fabrics also get placed in this basket, to remind me of what I’ve been up to.  Beneath the Waves stayed in this basket for about five years – never being put away in case I forgot about it…but never being cooperative enough to suggest what I might do with it. 

During “COVID times” I had to resort to shopping in my own stash, and I kept pulling out this panel, pondering it, and returning it to the basket.  I even went so far as to cut the two identical panels apart. That was scary, so I folded them up and returned them to the basket, pretending I hadn’t done it.  As we dragged on into the second summer of the pandemic, I was running short of ideas, fabric inspirations, and, at times, chocolate. These were desperate days. 

The Waves panel had SO much going on at the bottom…and SO little going on at the top.  Combatting all that negative space at the top seemed impossible, so I cropped it off. I felt hopeful. I added batting and a fabric backing and began dutifully quilting it around the various fish and marine creatures.

Soon enough I had a certified dog’s breakfast. That shapes looked more jumbled, not less. It belatedly became clear to me that this piece was never intended to be quilted (Note to self: Not everything in the world can be quilted) (How sad)  Quilting around the objects had made a super busy piece even busier, less harmonious.  Could I throw in the towel on the self challenge?  The whole thing would be a failure!  As I continued to try to see where things had gone off the rails, I focused on how eye-bogglingly busy it was.  A cushion made from this unquilted fabric would be spectacular - a quilt, not so much.

I began to select areas that could be “cancelled” out by overpainting using Inktense Pencils.  These are dye-pencils that are capable of covering up small areas by changing the colour or covering the print of the fabric.  I was able to create calmer areas where my weary eyes could rest.  Some elements on the original panel were out of scale and I covered them as well.  I cut pieces from the second panel to add as stuffed appliques to make the turtle and a few of the fish into three dimensional shapes.  I extended areas of coral by quilting over wool roving, modified other areas with hairy yarn or lace or thread painting.  I finished it off by adding a black inner border and a wide outer border. 

Hopefully, I’d met the self-challenge, and my goals were met.  The fish were now swimming, instead of my eyes!

Close up of turtle

Another Ending

Quilt No. 139

February 2022

Is it possible that there could be another ending for Humpty Dumpty, one where he doesn’t end up broken and yolky?  We’ve heard a lot about his demise, and the fumbling efforts of the King’s horses and men fooling around with Elmer’s Glue.  It never ends well for anyone. 

Inevitably, we fail to back the story up to its crucial beginning.  Why did Humpty D have a great fall?  Was he just plain clumsy? Given his shape it seems plausible. But maybe there was a darker element, one we’re afraid to talk about.  Was he pushed? Engaging his fool hardy gene for risk taking? Bullied beyond despair? Too slippery for the wall?  He’s a deeper character than we’ve been led to believe. 

In my iteration of the Humpty Dumpty mythology, there is no fall, great or otherwise. H.D. is simply enjoying the forest, the flowers, and his animal friends.  A rainbow has come out to lend its approval. He is happy with himself and the world around him. He’s admirable, not broken.

Original Humpty Dumpty doodle

“Another Ending” began as a doodle that was made with no particular intent in mind, and was then tossed into a folder.  The brick fabric wall was created by using a tiny rectangle of sponge to stamp paint onto cloth.  It predated H.D. by at least ten years.  (My strategy of keeping every little bit of nonsense I create occasionally pays off.) The redwood trees were cut from an older rather unsuccessful quilt I’d made of a redwood forest. I willingly chopped up its trunks and branches, reimagining them for H.D.’s world. I endlessly patted myself on the back - I’d kept the unused “redwood” fabric pieces from that quilt for fifteen years.  You just never know what you’re going to stir together into a finished project…

In the end, all the bits and pieces that had been lazing around in limbo for years – the doodle, the brick fabric, the redwood quilt – came together. I like to think that they justify the clutter of boxes and drawers that house my collection of fabrics and past efforts.  And this newly imagined Humpty Dumpty agrees with me.