Quilting on the Edge

Seaside Journal 6: Finding Joy In The Routine

A few doors from my house there is a large bottlebrush tree in bloom, here's a photo of one of the blooms.  This tree fascinates me because there is no doubt the blooms look exactly like a bottlebrush.  Except of course they are soft and delicate, unlike the bristles on an actual bottlebrush. The tree has masses of these flowers hanging downward, it is very interesting and attractive.  I associate bottlebrush with work........doing dishes. And here in this context it is about beauty and delicacy.  A book I'm reading emphasizes the need for acceptance of activities in our lives that may not be ones we enjoy doing.  A need to pay attention to the task at hand, be "in the moment", and instead of being ticked off or angry that you have to do a task, accepting the experience and paying attention to it.  I'm not very good at that, mostly in reference to housework, since I'm not much of a fan of housework.  But, this tree reminds me that there is beauty even in the mundane duties of our days. I don't know if I'll ever achieve acceptance of housework duties, but maybe I can use the bottlebrush tree as a good example of finding beauty and joy when least expected. 

Seaside Journal 5: Wind Designs

Today is a very windy day here on Anna Maria Island.  Most days there is at least a breeze of some sort, and others it is plain windy, like today.  At the beach the waves are breaking fast, whitecaps can be seen far out into the water, and the waves strike the shore with power.  Those who are in the water are enjoying the huge waves.  The wind is also causing the sand to blow horizontally.  Walking on the shoreline is a challenge, but still manageable.  The water is bringing up lots of shells and sea plants, another effect of the high wind.  Another effect of the pounding waves can be seen on the sand.  Crevices and crannies are carved by the waves into the sand. Repeated waves erode the sand into longer and wider pathways.  I stopped and watched one particular area that was worn down to a narrow crevice by the water.  As the water receded, wet sand poured down the sides of the crevice, but it never was able to fill in the opening before another wave  pounded it and added to the destruction.  Small finger like projections appeared along the edges of the sides of the crevice.  I recall going to the beach on other days after strong storms, and the entire shoreline could have a ridge of sand about six inches tall,  due to the water beating away the sand in front of the ridge.  I was thinking about the power of this natural event.  I was thinking about events in our lives too which can have an effect on us too, wearing us down.  Creating crevices and crannies within us, perhaps for bad feelings or memories to hide.  Creating ridges in the form of walls we may erect to prevent any further events from causing us harm. It seems there is often an analogy between events in nature and personal experiences.  I made this small art quilt to reflect the power of water to move in and around obstacles to make a new path.   

Seaside Journal 4: Sailboats

I am attracted to sailboats.  White sails adrift on water.  Here on the island, it is not uncommon to see sailboats many times in a single day, in many different places.  One of the things about the island is that whether you're walking, bicycling, or riding in a car, I can see the water of either the Gulf or Bay often, either huge expanses of water or glimpses of water behind a house, or peeking out from just about anywhere. And it's always an added bonus for me when I see a sailboat at the same time.  Somedays I see many sailboats dotting the landscape, perhaps when I'm  sitting on Anna Maria Pier on a weekend afternoon.  Sailboats represent peace and serenity to me.  I am quickly drawn into a mini contemplative state when I see a sailboat and watch it for a few minutes. Bobbing off in a distance, seeming to be carefree, alone, and yet strong and secure.  I think it represents a getting away, a sense of freedom to be offshore and out there alone in the waves without a care in the world.  I have not sailed and really have no desire to do so.  It is enough for me to see them and imagine I am there. Those who do sail may say that it takes a lot of work and time to catch that perfect wind, but I'll dare to say it is probably worth it when that happens. I have many sailboats about my home, some tiny ones on window ledges, larger ones sitting on furniture or in the corner on the floor.  I often make art quilts featuring sailboats. If I had the chance to sail, I don't think I'd take it.  Seeing sailboats is so meaningful to me that I fear that actually sailing would damage my experience when I see them.  Like seeing a movie about a book you've read, and then the book is not the same anymore. I am content to enjoy them when I see them, and let them take me away to that peaceful state I have found in just watching.  Here's a 4 by 6 inch fiberart card of a sailboat scene.

Seaside Journal 3: Window Views

In our home on Anna Maria Island, my quilting studio is actually a small bedroom on the top floor.  Almost every morning I take my coffee up there, open the blinds, and sit and sip while looking out my window. I like to be surrounded by the things I love, my quilts, my supplies, my books, paper goods, an interesting calendar.  I am one who likes to have some time alone in the morning, sort of like easing into the day instead of jumping right into it. I dislike artificial light in the early morning.  I think it confuses my mind, making it think it could be evening instead of morning.  I like daylight approaching little by little, feeling the new day settle into my environment gently.  Anyway, I like my view out my studio window.  I see lots of roof tops.  I'm lucky to have lots of tall palms in the neighborhood, so I see their fronds swaying in the breeze, and I see different types of barks on the trunks.  The trees are almost always swaying.  They're alive.  Active. In between the swaying palms I catch glimpses of the street, perhaps a bicycler going by, a neighbor walking a dog, the school bus or trolley on their routes.  The sounds of the swishing palms are clear.  It makes up so much of the background noise on the island that when it is a calm day, I notice the absence of that sound.  The varied and unique foliage is one of my favorite things about Florida.  It seems that no matter how calm the day, the foliage shows some activity.  I've sat outside on my small patio and thought it perfectly calm, till my eye catches a tiny gecko hopping on a plant causing the leaf to flutter, or nod up and down if it's a long slender lear.  Or a dead seagrape leaf suddenly is released from its' mother and comes sailing down with a small slap on the brick patio.  It takes time to look at what's going on around me.  I am trying to make a better effort to do that.  Somedays, I make new discoveries.  Maybe you will too looking out your window.  Here's an art quilt I made to remember those window views.

Turning 60: Quilt Series

                                   I am making a series of quilts about Turning 60 years of age this year in October.  This is one of my goals for 2008, and so far, I've created small art quilts for January, February, and March.  January is called Hope, February is called Hope 2, and March I just completed, it is called Changing Reflections.  These are the order you see them from left to right.  I am approaching these pieces with an idea in mind, then just letting them develop intuitively on the design wall.  This is my favorite way of making art quilts........no written plan or pattern, just an idea of what I want to express.  Sometimes I start with just a piece of fabric on my design wall, and an idea arises and off I go.  Other times, it's a struggle.  The March piece, the one above on the far right, was very hard to do, even though I knew what I wanted to express.  I think it's because I was trying to present a view on an aspect of aging that doesn't always feel good.  Based on the title, Changing Reflections, do you know what I'm expressing?   Chris

Look what I bought! Old Doll Quilt

                                         I went to the Anna Maria Island Historical Days Celebration last Saturday and found this sweet doll quilt for sale at one of the antique booths.  It's about 8 by 10 inches, made of 180 tiny squares, each between one half and three quarter inches square.  It seems like these are 1930's fabrics to me.  It feels like cotton batting that has migrated and lumped in certain spots, the back view shows the hand quilting. I can't decide for sure if the blocks were pieced by hand or machine.  Anyway, it was such a treasure I decided to buy it for 22 dollars, and frame it.  I just wanted  a safe home for somebody's hard work.  Now, it has one.......MINE!

Seaside Journal 2: Surf Sounds

This picture of the waves on the Gulf of Mexico was taken a year ago, but it may as well have been a few minutes ago.  Sometimes I can hear the surf from my bedroom, and that is about a block and a half from the water.  I walk on the beach almost everyday, and as I approach, the sounds gets louder and louder on most days, but sometimes little is heard if the water is calm.  I've noticed when I walk right by the water's edge, there is a rhythmic sound to an individual wave.  It can be hard to isolate one waves' sound, with others occuring simulataneouly, but it can be done.  First there's the huge rush, the slap on the beach, then the backward motion, which is alway so neat when it runs over shells, it almost makes a tinkling sound, like the sound of a windchime with tiny tin circles clinking against each other.   Finally, there is a short period of silence.  It's finding those silent seconds that is most interesting to me.  I guess I'd call them recovery phases.  If there was only one wave, you could hear it easily, but usually you have to concentrate on just one wave to hear the silent section.  Try it next time you have a chance.  The other thing I've noticed is that the instant I turn away from the shoreline and begin heading back to the boardwalk, the sounds of the waves diminishes immediately.  Of course my ears are no longer in the most receptive position for the sound, but it still always strikes me as silence returning to my mind as I get farther and farther away from the shoreline.  I have thought more than once that I'd like to make an art quilt depicting the sounds of silence.  This may remind you of that song by Simon and Garfunkel back in the sixties, I always enjoyed the juxtaposition of those two words.  Maybe someday I'll find a way to make that piece, I know it's rattling around in my head somewhere.   Chris