Hack It!

A confession: pillow covers escaped my repertoire until a couple of weeks ago. They pop up all over the place, the perfect "easy" way to redecorate one's living room or bedroom. I suppose they take less time than painting the walls, but painting the walls always seemed much easier to me. After all, I've done my fair share of painting. I pick my favorite saturated color of the moment, get some painter's tape, collect the drop cloths, and start painting. Pillow covers, in contrast, require design. It's best, therefore, to start simple, right? Or to hack some templates.

Fresh off my successful foray into piecing curves, I decided to forego practicing more basics and dive into the next challenge: a big circle outline. There are lots of ways to achieve this, and I could have gone with Dale Fleming's Six-Minute Circle method. But the point was to practice my new curve-by-curve skillz. I had some New York Beauty templates, but of course I had printed the super-advanced kind, the ones with many many spikes and layers. To limit the crazy-making, I wanted 2 curves, not 5. And I wanted a particular width that existed in my head, but not on the template. Obviously the solution here is to hack the templates. I drew a line where I wanted the curve to be, adjusted both the inner quarter-circle and the outer edges and held my breath. Well, not really. I just cut out the templates, cut out some fabric, sewed some pieces, and hoped it worked. For the most part, it did. With a little trimming, I got just the circle I wanted.

Then I set about making the pillowcase. In theory I knew how to do this, but I did check a few blog tutorials just to make sure. In an ode to simplicity, I decided against fiddling with zippers and opted for an envelope closure. This also let me use the small, not quite fat quarter, of a Tula Pink Parisville print that brought together all the colors I was using. The colors being lavender, mint, and gray, all chosen to match my roommate's room decor. Because this pillow cover made its way back to Michigan to celebrate Marie rocking her prelims. [For the non-graduate-school-immersed, prelims (or comps or orals or name-your-test-word) are the big exams between coursework and the dissertation.] Anyhow, since I was unavailable for the in-town celebratory drinks, I sent a present instead. Whether a fine adult beverage or a classy modern pillow cover is a better way to celebrate is a decision I leave to others.

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Dog Days

Am I the only one who listens to new (to me) albums on repeat, for weeks on end? Maybe I'm just weird like that. Florence + the Machine tells me, about every 50 minutes or so, that the Dog Days Are Over, but I'm still stuck in sweltering DC. Summer in DC is supposed to be sweltering -- which is why I don't like it and try (not always successfully) to avoid it. But the end of May? It's not supposed to be this damn hot. But before it got too hot to move, much less wield an iron, I made a bag. Well, I made a few other things too, but we'll stick with the bag for this post.

At this point, I think I've trained my friends to not expect timely birthday presents. As per usual, I knew I wanted to make Claire a Lickety Split bag -- I find it to be one of the most versatile bags I've made and own. At a Del Ray Fabrics tent sale a few weeks ago, I snagged some fabric for it. When I last saw Claire, she mentioned surrounding herself with bright colors to make her black-clothes-base shine (and she rocks both bags and shoes). This is one of the few prints from Amy Butler's Lark collection that I liked, and I think it will play nicely with black clothes.

I make a couple modifications to the bag pattern -- I add some fabric ties in the center but make only 2 pockets. Usually the side with the pockets seems like the de facto "inside" but with this bag, I'm not so sure. Because these pockets, they are awesome.

See: awesome! Shiny, happy, awesome. Home-dec weight birds that pretty perfectly match the olive snail scallop print (from Tula Pink's Prince Charming collection). It's a good thing the pockets are on opposite sides because I think they're about an 1/8" different from one another, due to some winging it while fussy-cutting the bird. I'm quite certain it has no effect on its utility.

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Curves Ahead

It's only taken 14 years, but I've finally taught myself how to piece precise curves. I'm glad I waited, because I'm a big fan of the "no-pin and trim" method (also taught in Rachel's Curves class). I only pin when absolutely necessary, and even then I try to find ways around such tedium. I have a plan for a larger quilt, but the goal was to smart small. I thought I had printed some templates out before I left Michigan. I mean, I had printed them, but I thought I actually had them with me. But no, I left them in a pile of papers back home. And I don't have easy access to a printer right now.

Never fear, there's always a way. Such a way might include, for example, tracing templates from the laptop screen. Press gently. It will work. Even with drafty templates and no pins, the pieces basically line up. That looks pretty circular, right? Trimming is the key, and it's really quite effective with drunkard's path blocks. Even if the block sews up a little tipsy (because that Belgian beer was super delicious), it's fixable.

I limited myself to one storage box of fabric when I left Michigan for this temporary jaunt away. I chose to bring my box of solids plus a few other prints for a couple of planned quilts (this not being one of them, of course). But one of the prints worked for the back, and Betty's Orange clamored to serve as the binding. That's a siren's call I can't resist. Ditto on the seductive curves. Now that I've made them, I'm captivated.

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Topo Map: A Quilt

I've been waiting to show off this quilt for a while now -- the delay is all my fault, as I forgot neglected to take a full dose of pictures when I had the chance and had to ask its new owner to make up for my flawed execution. I scurried to finish this in March -- literally sewing on the binding the day I hopped on a plane to deliver it, or to meet up with my Bad-Decision-Dinosaur^TM-embracing and general-ruckus-making friends, Joel and Jenny. Joel was my fabulous roommate when I lived in Madison, and aside from being one of my closest friends, he has -- in the past 1.5 years -- defended his dissertation, found a job, bought a house, gotten engaged, and done all sorts of awesome things because he is awesome.

And awesome gets you a quilt in my book. It might be a super-late quilt, but it will get to you, one day. It will even be size-appropriate, because when you're tall, you need a tall quilt, obvs.

As previously noted, I accidentally channeled Denyse Schmidt's brain as I made this quilt. I'm pretty sure her technique does not involve making a bunch of half-square triangles (hsts), arranging them, abandoning that arrangement, realizing that said hsts could form giant flying geese with tails, piecing said geese, chopping the tails, and arranging them asymmetrically. Except maybe that last part, because DS, like yours truly, embraces the asymmetry. Sometimes being a little off-balance is a good thing.

I'm usually a mix-the-fabric-lines kind of quilter, but for some reason, my acquisition of Joel Dewberry's Modern Meadow led to some MM-only projects. Or MM+solids. In this case, 5 or so yards of Moda's Bella White (I should order that stuff by the bolt) and this lovely light brown courtesy a Target sheet. Because when you've taken all the quilt materials with you to Cincinnati to finish the quilt after working at the archives and then change your mind about what the back should look like, a sheet is a smart option: it's financially responsible and super soft to boot. This picture is theoretically upside down, if the location and direction of the quilt label matters, which it probably doesn't.

I don't have a great close-up of the quilting, but it resembles a topographic map -- you know, the ones that indicate elevation by the density of contour lines -- hence, calling this "Topo Map." Which is also perfect because Joel a) loves maps, b) sometimes makes maps, and c) taught me much of what I know about cartography. And flying geese love topo maps, or they should, if they want to fly efficiently and not run into trees.

Sometimes we go for the quizzical-hipster-in-ice-cave look, where a quilt would probably be quite useful.

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Spring Green

 

This quilt started with the green (Moda's Dill, possibly?). I had visions of a very green, a very spring quilt. The idea came to me in February -- seeking spring, I suppose -- but I didn't act on it until April (there was a touch of travel and work and whatnot in between). It took me a while to decide on what colors to use with the green, and in the end, more green -- lime? -- won out. With a touch of yellow and white.

This quilt was all about play -- with color, with shapes, with ideas, with lines. I started piecing and let it develop. The small lime rectangle was a fairly last-minute addition, when I wanted some oomph. It took a few nights for the quilting plan to gestate. I felt the improv piecing needed some structure for balance. The single chevron-esque quilting is the result.

This quilt is a classic case of looking more simple than it is. It's not that the piecing or the quilting were complicated, exactly. But the piecing had to feel right, and the quilting, well, getting straight lines the same distance apart is not all that easy. I got impatient midway through and let it settle, returning to it the next night, when the quilt + sewing machine + sewing machine operator were a little more in sync.

This quilt back started with about 4 other pieces of fabric. Only the bright turquoise was a constant. I began with a focal print that was white with colorful gear-like wheels on it. But it felt off. Then I remembered the Laura Gunn's lemon tile mosaic (except it's not called lemon), and it hit just the right spot. It adds a little texture but keeps the color scheme united around green.

This ripply picture makes me chuckle. I'm not sure why, I just like it. And after I mailed it off to a friend whose baby is coming any day now, I realized that Dartmouth is the Big Green and she teaches there, so there's that. But it still started with wanting to make a spring quilt for a spring baby.

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Black Hole

The last 2 weeks of April and the first week of May pretty much escaped from my life. I mean, I know where I've been -- the travels include 3 different time zones, some flights, a set of two 11+ hour and two 5ish hour drives, work involved writing a couple conference papers and conference remarks, tooling around in multiple archives, and life included trying to take care of basic things like laundry and food preparation during this insanity. I'm not sure I've ever experienced quite as much zig-zagging about as I did in April 2012 (which in my mind includes May 1-5 as well).

Not that ends, exactly, as tomorrow I'll get in my car again and head to DC. But, quite remarkably for my life this academic year, I will be in DC for 4 weeks. Four weeks. In one place. Amazing. I should also note that while all my clothes for the next 7-8 weeks fit in 1 carry-on sized bag, the same cannot be said for my sewing stuff. Since I'll in one place for so long and driving, it seemed like a good idea to bring my sewing machine. I tried to keep it reasonable by pre-selecting some fabric for some projects, but we'll see how that goes.

In the meantime, I was able to squeeze in a little sewing over the crazy month. Last weekend, I eked out my do.Good Stitches April string blocks just under the May wire (which might bear some resemblance to a May pole, at least in my fogged mind). There was a also a little piecing and quilting, though not much else. Which is a problem since I really wanted to finish some bag gifts for some friends, but luckily, they're very patient people. They may have to be patient for another two months, alas.

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On Timing

In January, I joked with some of my fellow Ann Arbor Modern Quilt Guild friends about designing a Moda Bake Shop (MBS) Quilt. I had a charm pack I wanted to use, I didn't want the quilt to scream "charm pack" (40 precut 5" squares for those wondering), I wanted to find a way to use one charm pack in a big quilt, and I had an idea for just such a quilt. I confess that there might have been some cackling and goading about what exactly "counts" as a MBS "recipe" (for more on that, keep reading...).

When I got home, I looked up the guidelines for submitting a pattern. I knew I would need an image and for some reason decided I should make the quilt top rather than just draw a mock-up. Making the quilt was easy and let me write notes about yardage and steps and helpful hints. About a week later, I returned to the form, ready to fill it out. At which point I was stymied by how to link my quilt top picture to the submission. I decided to post it on flickr, not add it to groups, and hope that was ok. After I did this, I realized that I should have added it to picasa, made it available only with a link, and sent the link. Oh well, lesson learned.

And then I waited. And waited. And waited some more.* Now I can't pretend that my design was revolutionary. It was not. In fact, it was very much inspired by many of the half-square triangle quilts I had seen pop up over the past year, especially those made with solids. This one (which I love) popped up in my Google Reader the day after I finished piecing my version. My twist, as it were, was using 1 charm pack along with several solids, to allow for pops of different colors scattered through the quilt.

My idea very much built on the work of others -- as, I think, most of the MBS quilts do. It's a useful collection of quilt patterns that often spin relatively traditional patterns or ideas floating around the internet in a slightly new way, or use a slightly new method, or simply showcase Moda precuts instead of cutting from yardage. There's nothing wrong with this -- heck, I was interested in playing too. It seems to be an advertising boon for Moda that simultaneously gives crafty folk free patterns, creates a buzz around bloggers who have a chance to reach a larger audience, and hosts a vault of ideas that anyone with an internet connection can tap into. It is, of course, limited -- its focus is Moda precuts, there is a rather opaque selection process, and its designs are not going to appeal to everyone.

Three months later, I feel pretty confident that Moda isn't interested in my idea. And, frankly, that's fine. Maybe I was cocky in thinking they'd like what I could offer or maybe they didn't like my suggested gender-neutral/"masculine" charm pack option (Salt Air + a bunch of different grays/silvers) or maybe they just had a lot of other applications in line they liked better. If there's interest, I may write up the basics (which is to say size/yardage/cuts, since the rest of the instructions could be summed up as: make half-square triangles, arrange them randomly, sew squares together). Or maybe I won't since this morning Sew Mama Sew posted a pattern that's a riff on what I came up with which is a riff on what others, especially Katie, have done.

Timing, as they say, is everything. I waited, perhaps a bit too long. I waited, perhaps, on the wrong venue. But, I realized this morning, it just doesn't matter. Because lots of people can come up with the same plan. Inspiration can co-exist. Patterns need not be the domain of monopolies (see Rossie on being a copy-leftist.) Credit isn't the point. For me -- a small-time blogger who sews when I have the time (make the time?) because I like to play with fabric and make things -- a free-flowing exchange of ideas is more valuable. However that plays out, as long as it does play out, is fine by me.

Edited to add: talk about timing -- Design*Sponge just posted a tutorial for geometric triangle wall art.

November 2012 addition: tutorial/mini-pattern here.


*To clarify: I received a confirmation of my submission but never heard from Moda again. Apparently others have received rejections but that wasn't my experience. If anyone from MBS stumbles upon this, I would offer the unsolicited advice that some form of clear communication is preferable to none, even if it's simply "if you don't hear from us within 3 weeks of submission, you can assume we're not interested."

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HST

Way back when, or in January, I started making a quilt for a friend. It was a long time coming and I finally settled on the fabric -- lots of Modern Meadow -- and semi-decided on a pattern. Which is to say I decided to make a lot of HSTs -- half-square triangles -- and then see where that led me. At first I thought I might make a little something like this and then I changed my mind, considering a modified pinwheel along the lines of this. Even as I started sewing, none of them quite felt right. Which ultimately led me to some big flying geese:

I can't pretend me method was precise, frugal, or smart. It was ad-hoc, a tad wasteful, and not-so brilliant. See those extra white flaps on the bottom? Yeah, I just trimmed those off. Because sometimes simple solutions are the best way to cover mistakes uncertainty. Once I got to this point, however, I became decisive. I knew what I was doing and how I was going to do it.

So I did it, at which point I discovered that Denyse Schmidt has a pattern that bears a distinct resemblance to my {clearly brilliant} quilt design. I'm going with great minds think alike, because why else would Denyse Schmidt make a pattern for the quilt that existed in my mind? I mean, her pattern probably uses more logic than my process, but it probably involves a lot more steps and templates and planning and numbers and yardage and whatnot than my, shall we say, intuitive sewing. And I'd show you the whole quilt, but I made the mistake of giving it to my friend and failing to take pictures of the whole front and whole back.

I thought about picture-taking. I thought about it when I plucked it from the dryer and placed it in my backpack. I thought about it when I gave it to Joel. I thought about several nights later when we were both packing again. I thought about it on the plane, after we got on different flights. And I thought about this afternoon as I sat in the Harry S. Truman archives, when I typed in my kickin' wireless login that begins with HST, which makes me smile and reminded me to post. So I will wait, with as much patience as I can muster, until Joel returns from his work trip to Asia and snaps some photos for me.

In the meantime, I'm crossing my fingers that I finish my work quickly enough to sneak in a little trip to the Quilt Shoppe in Stewartsville before I drive back to Michigan.

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Purple

Purple is a finicky color. Or I'm finicky about purple. I like it, but I don't like a lot of purple fabrics. It occupies the least space in my stash (to put it in perspective, I have much more pink fabric than purple fabric, and I could easily live my life without any pink in it). There have been more "good" purples of late, especially on the cerise end of the deep purple spectrum, but very few deep bluish-purples. But I know several people who love purple and like to find ways to include it.

This challah cover was a long time coming. Or just really really late. Sivan and Igor, a pair of my closest friends, moved to LA and bought a house. More than 12 months ago. And I intended to make them a challah cover as a housewarming gift. When I visited them in November, after they'd been in their house for more than a year, I planned to bring said gift. But it existed only in my head, and even there it was a mere figment, with no real plan other than using some purple.

When I playing with all sorts of rainbow road quilts, I had a few extra purples. Like three, maybe four, 5" squares. Not really enough for much. But they played well with creams and browns, and the purple-brown-cream combo is, I think, adult and gender-neutral and not-frilly and very Sigor. The challah cover now lives in LA, where it is probably stashed somewhere during Passover (two more days...I can handle two more days of always feeling slightly hungry, right?), and will make appearances anew when bread is again permissible.

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Suspicious Animals

I could probably win the real-life suspicious animal competition, given how infrequently I'm in the same place these days. I think every phone conversation with a friend begins with "where are you today?" But there are other suspicious animal contests to win as well. In a stroke of brilliance, my friend has a birthday tradition of bringing all sorts of craft materials to a local bar and making the evening into a drinking/crafting spectacular. This year's challenge was to make a suspicious animal, and the bartenders were the judges.

My strategy, if you will, was "use as many materials as possible." And as I noted to Rossie, one of the minds behind this genius birthday affair, I approached the composition of my animal much like I often piece and quilt: with no real plan. So when the glitter playdough and toothpicks didn't play together quite as well as I thought they would, I added some glue, some rubbery discs, some more playdough, and some pipe cleaners. At one point I looked up and realized I hadn't yet used a pom-pom, so I added one, stuck on a googly eye, and then needed additional pipe cleaners as support. Finally, in what was I thin the best move of the evening, I added a crepe paper braid. Indeed, I think it was the zebra-striped crepe paper braided tail that won me the evening's top prize. I mean you wouldn't want to encounter this entity in real life, right?

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