creative chaos
Morning has come, and today I start a brand new quilt. I pull from the cupboard a collection of pretty pinks and purples, soft spring greens and low volume fabrics. These had been selected weeks before, intended to become a companion quilt to Waltz of the Flowers.
But, I can't do it. My heart isn't in these soft, sweet colors. And when you don't feel a quilt on that first day, well... that's a very bad sign!
What do I really want to make? What would make me happy?
I open my drawer of cast offs. Rummaging around, my hands pass through blocks and stacks of blocks made for quilts past, but rejected for one reason or another. Things cut, but not sewn. The ghosts of quilts past.
And then I know.
Sometimes chaos is beautiful. Riotous colors. Odd angles. Plenty of black.
From my stash I pull multicolor prints. Lots by Anna Maria Horner. They're often hard to use, but not now.
It's my chaos and it feels so right.
But, I can't do it. My heart isn't in these soft, sweet colors. And when you don't feel a quilt on that first day, well... that's a very bad sign!
What do I really want to make? What would make me happy?
I open my drawer of cast offs. Rummaging around, my hands pass through blocks and stacks of blocks made for quilts past, but rejected for one reason or another. Things cut, but not sewn. The ghosts of quilts past.
And then I know.
Sometimes chaos is beautiful. Riotous colors. Odd angles. Plenty of black.
From my stash I pull multicolor prints. Lots by Anna Maria Horner. They're often hard to use, but not now.
It's my chaos and it feels so right.