Sometimes I think I'm finished with a quilt. I've surface designed it, free-motion stitched it, maybe even appliquéd it. But it still looks a little flat. It needs a little . . . something.
When I first became interested in quilting, I spent hours staring at traditional quilt squares trying to figure out how they were pieced. Some, like the log cabin pattern, are pretty obvious.
We often advise artists to practice, practice, practice if they want to improve their machine embroidery skills. But practice doesn't have to make perfect. In fact, I recently spent time with two artists who embrace imperfections in their machine embroidery designs.
Last week, my colleague, friend, and co-conspirator Helen Gregory took over the reins as Editorial Director for Interweave's Quilt, Paper, and Sewing Group.
I usually have a variety of quilting designs kicking around in my head at any given time. But often, when I finally get around to actually designing a quilt, I draw a blank. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by fabric and surface design choices. Other times, I just don't know where to start.
On this Thanksgiving Day I am in transition. I'm settling into my new Houston digs in preparation for my fresh adventure with Quilts Inc. while still consulting for Quilting Arts and preparing for the next season of "Quilting Arts TV."
Choosing the right machine quilting pattern for your piece is as important as the thread and fabric selections.
I've been using digital photos as a basis for my quilt designs for quite some time now. Digital technology has improved so much, too.
Why is fiber artist Candy Glendening holding up a dye chart that looks like the periodic table of elements? Her training as a research scientist made it seem like the most natural thing in the world to do.
As the holiday season approaches and everyone gets so busy, I have to remind myself to keep it simple. Simple gifts, simple decorations, simple projects.
All these new TV shows about fairy tale characters in the contemporary world casting spells and carrying out age-old vendettas has me thinking: If an evil fairy/stepmother/witch cursed me so that I was left with ability to create only one hand embroidery stitch, what would it be?
If I had to create a basic lesson plan for how to make a quilt it would be broken down into these three basic steps:
I may have my favorite methods of doing things in my studio, but I'm always open to new ideas, techniques, and tools. I say, if it makes my art experience easier or better, it's worth trying.
We art quilters march to a different drummer and dance to our own tune. If we follow rules at all, we see them more as guidelines, jumping off points for improvisation.