Sea Turtles

In various cultures, the turtle is said to be a symbol of fertility, of Mother Earth, a family guardian. This seems especially fitting in our family; when my stepdaughter first told us she was expecting twins, she referred to them as two little sea turtles growing inside her.

The twins will be six months old next week and these are the two quilts I making for the them. The twins are not identical, and neither are the quilts... but you can see they are related!

The pattern is called "Herd of Turtles" by Pacific Rim. I have finished the reverse appliqué on both quilts by hand; the machine quilting is almost complete on one of them, and I hope to be able to deliver both quilts soon.

Turtles are also symbols of peace, long life and wisdom; I hope those blessings will be in every stitch.

Overcoming Invisibility

Graffiti intrigues me. At times, it seems like arrogant vandalism, which makes me angry... yet, at other times, it illuminates a dark corner with beauty, or with a call for justice, inciting public action/reaction.

I don't know much about it, but "tagging" seems to fall in the first category. To me, it's like standing in the middle of an empty room and yelling your own name over and over again; senseless, selfish and somewhat silly. But then I ask myself: why? Is this the work of someone who just wants attention? How is it different from the endless stream of Facebook selfies, Twitter navel-gazing—and blogs like this one—that clutter the social media channels? The truth is that we all want to be noticed, to be heard, to matter. The question is, how will we achieve it?

I wonder if other opportunities for creative expression seem blocked to these graffiti guerillas... and why? Are these images really maps drawn by someone who is lost, created in the hope they might eventually be found? Are they like the sad and greedy seagull in the movie "Finding Nemo" crying "mine, mine, mine" and staking out a territory when everything else seems to have been taken away?

The more complex and anonymous wall drawings seem different to me; they seem to be signs of generosity and confident independence, leaving stories as gifts or riddles for those who follow, like the cave paintings of many cultures around the world. Perhaps it is the viewer who decides the value of these images based on context? If we didn't know these images were painted on abandoned buildings or underground tunnels, would we assume something different about their value? If we thought they were painted by a famous artist rather than an anonymous rebel, would we view them with a more discerning eye?

The late Keith Haring's work inspires me... and sometimes disturbs me, too. From its early days, blooming on the blank spaces of subway walls, his work has grown to international acclaim and commercial reproduction (needless disclaimer: I own a bright pink lunchbag featuring a Keith Haring drawing, complete with a figurative zipper pull.) His work has a unique look and feel: lively, often humourous and seemingly unafraid, using simple (and even child-like) lines and shapes to express his imagination, both in light and in darkness.

I can't see myself ever becoming a true graffiti artist, but I wonder what elements really appeal to me and cry out to be incorporated in my own work: a sense of "devil-may-care" rebellion in the face of too many rules? A willingness to create something "quick and dirty" without judgment, then walk away and leave the work behind: to be viewed, erased, improved or obliterated by other artists? A need to share a call to action: to right the wrongs of the world and bring on a healthy dose of justice for all?

I'm not sure yet; but when I figure it out, I'll be sure to share "the writing on the wall."

On Demand

In a culture where we can get almost anything we want as soon as we think of it—sometimes by literally lifting a finger and pushing a button—we can easily lose our appreciation for anticipation and our ability to sustain our desires while we work towards our goals.

In other words, we want it all and we want it now.

In a society where we can now shop 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (whether online or in person) and with suppliers like Amazon offering delivery by the next day—or in some cases, the same day—we are moving towards those science fiction scenarios where speaking a desire into a computer immediately causes the item to appear.

We don't have to adjust our schedules to limited banking hours; we get money on demand with bank machines that spit out cash, and with plastic cards that let us spend even more money than we actually have.

We get information on demand through the internet, without planning ahead for library hours that align with our schedules and without having to manually search through card catalogues that only represent a limited selection of books. We can read the name of a book somewhere, purchase and upload it to an e-reader within a few minutes, all without the fuss and bother of going to the bookstore. (Even those of us who love going to the library and the bookstore find ourselves actually doing it less and less.)

We expect our bosses, colleagues and employees to deliver the goods before we've even finished framing our requests. We consume fast food and take magic pills for instant weight loss. We watch TV shows and movies on demand, listen to music on demand, receive news and information on demand... and we become more demanding every day. We have become restless and unable to live fully in the moments when we have not yet attained our fleeting wish of the moment. We complain in waiting rooms and line-ups; we get road rage in traffic. We are forgetting how to be patient with ourselves and others. We want it all and we want it now... and we want it to be given to us without too much effort on our part.

It seems we are becoming a bit like the grasshopper in the old fable who didn't want to gather and harvest when the weather was fine; he fiddled and danced while the ant laboured in the hot sun. When the winter came, and resources were few and far between, the grasshopper expected the ant to provide for him.

It feels as though tougher times are coming. I hope not...but one way or the other, I do hope that we learn again to slow down, to appreciate the simple life, the excitement of anticipation and the satisfaction of accomplishing our goals by working together.

Wanting What We Have

Our human nature insists that we could be happy if we just had a little bit more... a little more money, a little more love, a little more fabric, a little more time. We don't need a LOT more; we are sure that just a bit more would do the trick, and then we would finally be happy, and feel satisfied.

Not true.

There's a fantastic book by Timothy Miller called "How to Want What You Have: Discovering the Magic and Grandeur of Ordinary Existence"; I re-read it again every few years because I need to be reminded of the difference between having what we want and wanting what we have. It seems that our desire for more is insatiable. As soon as we finally achieve what we thought we wanted, it goes a little flat; we lose some of our excitement for it and we start looking around for that one more thing that will finally fill us up. And in our haste to obtain that next thing, we often dismiss and even trample over what we actually have.

It's probably time for me to read the book again, but to the best of my recollection, Miller advocates training ourselves against this basic instinct by the practice of Attention, Gratitude and Compassion: noticing what we do have, finding reasons to be thankful—no matter how small—and exercising kindness towards ourselves and others.

Let's be clear about this: I don't advocate giving up ambition or abandoning the idea of working hard to achieve something important with our lives; I don't suggest that we should continue to be victims or to limit our dreams. I do think that we need to be aware of the blessings that already surround us, to accord them their full value, to perform the random acts of kindness that spring from recognition of the abundance we already possess... and to learn not to be blinded by our intrinsic need for MORE.

Passion and Courage

These two words, "passion" and "courage", are singing in my heart today. Someone very close to me recently shared them with me as a mantra to live by, and I have been reflecting on them ever since. 

The image above, taken at the Chihuly exhibit at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts last September, also speaks to me of passion and courage. The colours are vivid and the shapes are large; in fact, many of the shapes are so large that one person cannot shape them alone.

I think Chihuly is a living example of passion and courage; despite—or perhaps even because of—physical obstacles affecting his sight and strength, he has pioneered a new method of working with glass; members of his studio have had to collaborate to produce these massive and impressive glass sculptures through a shared vision. The sheer size of some of the pieces could only have been achieved by exploring new ways of thinking and working with glass to create something unique. 

What does it mean to live life with passion and courage? Courage means stepping out in faith, despite our fears. It means allowing ourselves to risk in order to follow a dream. It means believing that the path we choose will eventually bring us through the challenges we are facing to a place of peace and great beauty. It is a reminder of our innate ability to keep moving onward through the unknown (even when we doubt) as well as a willingness to trust and follow our inner voice. Passion is meant to be shared; it's important to remember that we don't have to face our challenges alone... we can explore together and achieve something magnificent, something unique that will delight and inspire.

Words to live by, indeed.

All or Nothing...

If the only way to win is all or nothing, an unbearable expectation is placed on every action, every decision and every choice... and if we were to lose, all of our efforts would be valued at zero.

If my only choice is to give all or to give nothing, then the activities I enjoy, the people I spend time with, the charities I support, my job, my home, my life would all suffer... because giving all to one would mean giving nothing to another.

I may not win, I may not succeed; but if I have tried, then the result is not nothing. If I have learned something, the reward is not nothing. If I faced my fears and challenged some obstacle—even if I fail—I am not nothing.

If you haven't figured it out yet, I don't believe in all or nothing.

What I believe in is something.

I understand the concept of high stakes. I recognize that in a life-threatening situation, we may at times be called to truly "give our all". But in most of life, we need a balanced approach and a compassionate attitude towards ourselves and others.

We should be honest with ourselves about giving what we can, doing what we can, accepting what we can. We should try hard to move along the path we set for ourselves. We shouldn't give up, we shouldn't beat ourselves up... because we're not lazy or lackadaisical—we strive, we train, we make progress.

We achieve something, we believe something...we ARE something.

Treading Water

This is the time of year when I am beginning to tire of endless winter, and start looking forward to warmer weather and spending time in the water at the cottage.

I love to tread water for a number of reasons; I can look around and appreciate my surroundings, rather than having my face submerged as I concentrate on pushing forward; it gives me a chance to catch my breath after a few lengths of strenuous effort; I can chat with family and friends as we float and paddle together at the cottage; it reminds me that I can keep myself afloat in case of a boating mishap... and best of all, it keeps my feet out of the seaweed on the bottom of the lake!

When I was about ten or eleven years old, I went to Girl Guide camp at Lake Wa-Thik-Ane in Morin Heights for a week. Waterfront safety rules were pretty strict; you had to pass a swimming test and earn a coloured bracelet showing just how deep you were allowed to go during the swim period.

We had to swim a certain number of lengths back and forth between the docks and then tread water for a specified length of time. I started off fairly confidently; at that point, I had probably been swimming at least half my life, visiting family cottages near lakes and oceans and taking regular swimming lessons at the local indoor pool.

But halfway through my lengths that day, I caught a wave in the face during an inward breath and panicked. I sputtered to the dock and hung on for dear life. I dog-paddled to the ladder and climbed out. It seems to me that since I hadn't completed my lengths, the time requirement for treading water was also cut in half... and I was fine with that. I think I was embarassed by that point, and just wanted to get it over with; I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself. How ridiculous to imagine myself a mermaid if I couldn't swim...

So over the next few days, while everyone else was gleefully jumping off the end of the dock into the deep water, one other girl and I paddled and waded within the roped-off limits of the shallow zone. My mother (who was one of the Girl Guide leaders and who had been a camp counsellor for many years as a teenager) tried to persuade me to take the test again. I stubbornly refused, day after day.

But early in the morning on one of the last days of camp, without much fanfare or audience, we went down the water and I tried again... and succeeded! It was too late to enjoy many of the benefits, other than the most important one... knowing that I could do it.

Thanks, Mom.

Quilters ABC

This past weekend was full of reminders about why quilting feeds my soul. Our bi-annual quilting retreat is a time to escape from the time pressures of daily life and allow ourselves the luxury of immersing ourselves fully in the creative flow.

When reflecting upon the retreat, I think of the basics that brought me to quilting in the first place and so I share my thoughts in the form of the Quilters ABC.

QA could stand for Quilters Anonymous - you might be surprised how many quilters describe the quilting bug as an addiction. Like any other addiction, a support group is helpful in dealing with our issues... although in this case, the objective is not to eliminate the addictive substance from our lives as much as it is to encourage us to accomplish our quilting goals (and twelve steps is more likely to describe pattern instructions or a complicated technique...or the distance from the sewing maching to the ironing board or snack table!)

QB harks back to the traditional quilting bee, where women gathered around the quilt frame to work together and share stories about their lives. Although each of us brings our own projects to the retreat rather than working on one common project, we still share stories over the buzz of the sewing machines or across the table at meals. We compare notes on parenting and grandparenting, marriage and friendship, vacations, sports, entertainment and just about any other topic you can think of under the sun. (The "B" might also signify the opportunity to "be all that you can be" as we learn from each other.)

QC is an abbreviation we use to represent the province of Quebec; along with all the other topics listed above, politics do come into the discussion from time to time, particularly in an election year with an uncertain outcome. However, I prefer to think of the "C" representing the sense of connection and community that comes from belonging to a quilting group like a guild. This is further strengthened by sharing with members of other guilds when we attend a retreat together, coming together to share our different approaches and backgrounds with a common and mutually beneficial purpose. (Maybe we could use a bit more of that in our province as well!)

Maybe I'm NOT the Main Character...

Several years ago, some friends shared a story about a T-shirt they had seen in their travels... and their regret that they hadn't bought one. I think the image was a crowd with a speech bubble hovering above it proclaiming the realization "Maybe I'm NOT the main character..."

That image pops into my head frequently. Haven't we all had that experience, in either a negative or a positive way? Someone else wins the race, gets the part, says it better, makes it prettier, sells it for more money...you get the picture, I'm sure.

We've been enjoying the TV show "The Voice" with my stepdaughter when we go over to visit our infant grandsons (twins). I love the positive vibe and good humour of the blind auditions, and the weird combination of competition mixed with cooperation as the chosen singers battle it out. I especially enjoy the frequent advice given by the coaches to the competing singers: don't step on each other's moments; build on each other's strengths; challenge yourself to rise to new heights; find your own moment to shine.

It reminds me that we can't all sing the melody all the time. Sometimes we are the backup vocals providing harmony and richness to the song... sometimes we are the drumbeat in the background keeping the rhythm going... sometimes we are way out there in the audience providing support and encouragement.

All of those roles have value; it's knowing which one to play at the proper moment that makes the whole performance sing.

Showing Up Or Showing Off?

Here is the conundrum. We live in an increasingly social world, where almost everything we do and say becomes public at some point. It's easy to get caught up in that idea and spend a lot of time grooming our image for public consumption; but if we're not putting in our time and following some kind of internal call to action, we begin to value style above substance... and spend more time talking about greatness than actually working towards it.

I watched three great TED talks yesterday: Chris Hadfield on fear and how to overcome it (What I learned from going blind in space); Anne-Marie Slaughter on overcoming our cultural bias towards the relative value of breadwinning and caregiving, moving from the era of feminism to the era of humanism (Can we "have it all"?); and Aparna Rao, sharing a comical yet profound artistic expression regarding the nature of performance and interaction (Art that craves your attention).

The juxtaposition of these diverse presentations causes some internal reflection and a pattern-seeking response. How do one and one and one add up to five or ten when we combine these insights and apply them? How do these ideas overlap and interact with each other and with my experience? What do I take up and run with in my next steps forward?

You may come away from these talks with something different, but this is what I gleaned:

• Glamour and glory can only be achieved through persistent belief in a goal, anticipation of any potential obstacles (including our own fears), and extensive training and practice at overcoming those obstacles. We always need to be prepared and alert; recklessness or heedlessness can lead to catastrophe.
• Listening to our inner voice about what is important is vital to our well-being and success as individuals, families, corporations and as a society... and conversely, negative judgment about the relative worth of how other people respond to their inner voice is detrimental to all of those groups. We need to follow our own call and respect that of others.
• Performance is an attention-seeking act, but it is built on the premise of sharing a greater truth from an unusual perspective. Although we may appreciate the performer, it is the idea that must take center stage.

Speed of Light

Here is a first draft of a quilt design based on photos in one of my blog posts last week (Window of Opportunity).

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“We stroke through the changing tides of light, kept afloat by hopes and dreams held tight.”

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And here's another one, called "Long Drive Home (The Light at the End of the Day)"

Sigh...It would be nice to actually have time to MAKE some of these quilts one day... :)

"Quai" Sera, Sera

Canadian ports are bustling hubs in our economy, channels for all kinds of industrial resources and consumer products. I have been mulling over some ideas for geometric quilts based on those striped rectangular containers we see stacked onboard or by the waterside for some time.

But the marine industry offers all sorts of other interesting shapes for the visual artist, so I have also been playing with some of those more recently and sketching out some potential fabric designs. Still in the very early stages, but thought I would share them anyway. Enjoy!

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Osmosis

Science classes formed a large part of my high school and university education; there were elements I heartily disliked and have forgotten as quickly and completely as possible (dissection, and memorizing Kreb's cycle, amongst others)... but there were other topics that pleasantly surprised me at the time, and continue to intrigue me to this day.

Osmosis is defined as "a process by which molecules of a solvent tend to pass through a semipermeable membrane from a less concentrated solution into a more concentrated one, thus equalizing the concentrations on each side of the membrane."

As students, we often joked about playing tapes while we were sleeping or putting books under our pillows in hope that the knowledge would somehow seep from those concentrated sources into our less-concentrated (i.e. fairly empty) brains... but I'm not sure that those inanimate sources were really able to play any role in the process.

My fascination with osmosis these days is more on a personal level, and more about the idea of balance. Life seems to be full of opportunities to take things in, to receive learning, listening, love... and we are given equal opportunity to put things out there, to transmit teaching, talking, tenderness.

I think the trouble happens when we forcefully alter our "semi-permeable membrane" and make it an impermeable one, stopping the flow in one direction or the other out of fear or greed or pride. We can refuse to learn anything new, to let anyone help us... or conversely, we can refuse to share any of our wealth (material, emotional, mental or physical) with those around us. Neither of those choices ultimately enriches us or those around us.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, renowned psychology professor, formulated the concept of "flow" to explain both creativity and happiness... a concept that deserves more time and space than I can offer here today, so I include a link to watch his TED talk on the subject and invite you to explore a bit further on your own.

And as we move into another busy Monday, I wish you all a day that flows with opportunities... to give and to receive.

Finding Beauty in Unexpected Places

We have a lot of preconceived notions about beauty... But I think that if we keep our eyes and minds open, we might be surprised by how much beauty surrounds us almost all the time and almost everywhere.

(I finally remembered my Instagram password yesterday, so I took a few celebratory photos to play with before I left the office last night)

Window of Opportunity

Like a strong river current, time flows relentlessly over and around us; it never really stops and waits for us to be ready, to get organized, to have it all figured out...we have to swim or tread water, be carried along or strike out in the direction we want to travel and keep working at it. I have no objection to floating along peacefully at times and enjoying the sun on my face and the wind at my back... but ultimately, I want to chart my own course, even if it means going against the tide sometimes.

These photos show the passage of the light through my office window over the course of a winter day; I enjoy the colours and shapes, but they also inspire me with an idea for a quilt about the fleeting nature of opportunity.

Impressions

This is a picture of the kitchen wall at our cottage after we had taken down a plastic teapot shelf that had been hanging there as long as I can remember. It makes me think of a story I heard once about a child who was always losing her temper. Each time she got angry and said hurtful things, her father would lead her out to the backyard, quietly hand her a hammer and a nail and have her hammer the nail into the fence. Before long, the fence started to look like a hedgehog!

But as the days and weeks passed, the girl gradually learned to control her temper and bite back her mean remarks; there were days when no new nails were hammered into the fence. In fact, on those days, the girl and her father would go out to the backyard and remove one nail from the fence.

Over time, the girl became good enough at recognizing her triggers and thinking things through before she spoke that there were no extra nails left sticking out of the fence. On the day the final nail was removed, her father stood beside her and asked, "What do you see?"

She said, "The nails are all gone... but the fence is still full of holes."

"Yes," said her father. "Even when we are ready to take back our angry words, it's not always possible to undo the damage they've done to those around us... it's much better if we can avoid making those holes in the first place."

There's a particular technique in quilting which uses light sensitive fabric to capture the shape of objects and create unique designs. It reminds me of questions I need to ask myself often: What kind of impressions am I making on those closest to me every day? Am I adding light or shadow to the world? What will I leave behind to mark my passing? 

Time to get out there and mend my fences... :)

Teachers and Guides

Where would we be without the talent and inspiration of those who are generous enough to share their learning with us?

I was privileged to meet Rosemary Makhan many years ago when I was program director at West Island Quilters guild. We invited her to come and teach us appliqué techniques based on her beautiful Rose of Sharon quilt, and she graciously accepted.

In case you don't already know, quilts made from Rosemary's patterns are consistent award winners at quilt shows across the country and around the world (I believe one member of our guild has won at least two Viewer's Choice awards based on Rosemary's designs.)

Rosemary was meticulous in her methods and generous in sharing her insights. She was a gentle and lovely teacher; I was saddened to hear of her death in January this year.

In her memory, I have given the two blocks I completed at her workshop a place of honour on my design wall, to remind me and to inspire me. I have been working at my version of her quilt periodically for the past couple of years. Progress is slow but small steps are being made.... And I think now that the name I chose for my version all those years ago, based on the X and O shapes of the two repeating blocks, is more fitting than ever: Hugs and Kisses.

Thank you Rosemary... for sharing your spirit and your talents, and for continuing to inspire. Rest in peace.

Studio Archeology

Sometimes we are surrounded with so many good things that it's hard to remember and appreciate them all.

Case in point: my studio has become so full of fabric and resource material that it's often hard to find a place to work or to remember all the things I'm currently working on.

I got in there again this weekend and started an archeological dig down through the layers of fabric waiting to be put away, magazines open to an inspirational page and projects (some almost finished, some only just started and some still waiting for the glimmer of my eye and a moment in time when they can take their first step into being.)

One of the projects I unearthed was one of the first I ever started, more than 20 years ago. I had decided to make a calendar quilt, with a block representing each month while simultaneously moving through the colour wheel. I had completed an appliquéd basket of flowers for May, a wedding ring block for June, a Snail's Trail for July, a variation of Birds in the Air for August and a schoolhouse block for September... and then, for some reason, I never got back to it... for 20 years!

On Saturday, I pulled out some fall fabric, ironed a few pieces onto fusible backing and fussy cut some leaves for an October wreath.

On Sunday, I gathered some plummy purples and one red with small figures for my November block, and made a modified Rail Fence block which I have decided to call "Flanders Field".

I have also gathered some of the few purples I have in my fabric stash and photocopied the necessary foundation patterns to make a paper-pieced block for December. Stay tuned for updates! :)

Dancing with the Muse

[And no... I didn't mean "music"... in case you were wondering.]

Last night, I got home late (I went to see "Abraham in Motion" at Place des Arts as part of the Danse Danse series...it was excellent, by the way). I wasn't quite ready to sleep so I pulled out my computer for a few minutes to organize and clean up some quilt designs I had started years ago (for example, the Hollyhocks and Lilies design above.) I pulled a few elements out of the design and began rearranging them into repeating patterns and playing with colour placement. Before I knew it, it was 2:30 in the morning and I had created preliminary versions of four different fabric patterns, some in at least ten different colour ways. I'm not sure how final they are, but I have some new ideas flowing now...

When our creative muse beckons, we sometimes need to drop what we're doing and get out on the dance floor... even if we're not dressed for the ball.

For what it's worth, I think that we're also more likely to get invited to dance if we make space for those kinds of opportunities in our calendars and plan to show up...even if we're just sitting on the sidelines, waiting for someone to ask.

Either way, if we're willing to follow our muse's lead, we're bound to learn a few new steps along the way.

Living in a Bubble

I love our little Boler trailer. It's 13 feet long and just over 6 feet wide, and seems to have almost everything you'd need to live comfortably for quite a while (not that we've ever tested that theory out for more than a week or so). Actually, there's no bathroom or shower... and we don't hook up the water tank... and we ripped out the stove and the icebox since we have separate camping stove and coolers...and no heat source...but you get the idea. :)

The colourful version above is a fanciful representation (ours is plain white) inspired by a gift of fabric featuring funky colourful trailers from my friend Heather.

Our Boler (made in Canada c.1975) is lightweight and mobile; we could take it almost anywhere and pull it with almost any vehicle... in fact, my husband has been known to fascinate other families camping in the vicinity by dragging it around by hand when the orientation doesn't quite suit him.

We think it wants to be an Airstream when it grows up.

In the meantime, the Boler's retro curves and tiny size make it an object of interest whether it is parked in our driveway, on the back lot at the cottage or travelling along the open road. We play a new version of the punch-buggy game when we see its brothers and sisters bumping along behind their owners.

We attended a camping weekend with other Boler owners (called Bolerama) quite a few years ago; it was fascinating to see how people had customized their trailers to suit their own personalities and interests, with everything from microwaves to solar panels.

We could retreat into our little bubble as if it were a turtle's shell, a place to escape from the world (and sometimes we do)... but I have also come to think of our little egg as a gathering place, a drawing card that allows us to invite others in and take us out of ourselves to meet and greet and share our stories.