For this portrait of me at two, mother dressed me in an organdy dress she lovingly made. The 1947 snapshot, at right, shows me wearing one of the two silk kimonos my father brought home as gifts after his WW II service in the Philippines--he brought one for mother and one for the daughter he hadn't met. I grew up living with a mother who loved fabric and loved creating with fabric. I have fond memories of shopping for cloth with my mother, Marie, of fingering it and ohing and ahing over quality fabrics. I remember my delight when, as a teenager, Mother gave me one of her Liberty of London scarves made from an exquisite piece of silk. Forty years later I still treasure that scarf. I believe her enthusiasm for creating with cloth is one source for my lifelong passion.

The other major influence on my consciousness about creating with fabric was the emphasis on the endless creativity of women acknowledged by those of us involved in the Women's Liberation Movement of the early 1970's. We were rediscovering the inventiveness of  women and their desire to weave beauty into their daily lives--often by creating with needle and fabric.

When I start something I have a general idea of where I'm heading, but I'm constantly open to ongoing ideas and inspiration. It's building without a blueprint. It's vernacular building, that is, the building of the common people. I value my roots as an "untrained artist." In fact, I have built my own house in this way. Yes, of course I take classes, but I have no formal art training  to unlearn. I am interested in the ideas and opinions of others who create. At the same time, I value my own intuition, interests, opinions and passions as I create with fabric and needle.

Making cordage, which includes thread, yarn, string, cord, netting and rope, was a survival skill for women for thousands of years. Perhaps women began by imitating spiders and birds who weave with fibers of plant and animal materials. Clothing, bedding, thatching (roofing) and containers (baskets) were made from various types of cordage and were used by a woman to keep herself and her people alive. Woven nets were used to catch small birds  and  animals.  Creative use of plant and animal fibers sustained, for humans, a place in the web of life. Ancient artifacts indicate that the common woman of ancient civilizations created harmony and beauty in her everyday objects. By learning some of these fiber skills, I've expanded my own conceptual abilities. This is the artistic heritage I claim and encourage in myself and others.

Arkansas Star: Unfinished Blocks Find a New Home (size: 62" x 80") The central four blocks were  collected over a period of 30 years and were made by unknown quilters. I appliqued each to a background to create the center medallion. Friends gave me a stack of antique red and green Arkansas Star blocks because, they insisted, I needed those blocks to use with the medallion. After using four of the blocks to surround the medallion, I cut apart four other blocks to become the pieced border. The sashing, setting triangles and wide borders were reproduction fabrics designed by textile historians Barbara Brackman and Terry Clothier Thompson. All the blocks are about a hundred years old and the new fabric features designs popular in the mid to late 1800s.

These castoffs came together to become this visually  interesting  quilt because I took the first steps down the road, shared the work-in-progress, and friends responded with enthusiasm and generosity. For me, much of the fun and joy of quilting is the sharing and the connecting. 

My first challenge was to find a compatible background  fabric. I auditioned everything at my local shop, Quilt Your Heart Out, that seemed appropriate. Nothing worked, except this hand dyed batik--a thoroughly modern fabric here in the U.S. My mind told me I needed a reproduction looking fabric, but my eye insisted on this batik. The batik contains small splotches of color similar to the distinctive chrome yellow of the late 1800s as found in the antique fabric of this star. After basting the star to the background, I took small tucks along the seam lines to ease in the fullness of the star. After appliquing  the edges under, I created borders using fabrics similar to those of the original. The machine quilting is minimal in-the-ditch quilting for the star itself and large scale stippling of the background.

 In the past three years,  I've completed nine different "TimeSpan" quilts. It's just one of the diverse avenues of quilting that draws me. There are many ways to honor our foremothers, but certainly finishing projects they had to set aside for unknown reasons would please them. I enjoy adding my own creativity to the original work. It pleases me to imagine some unknown quilter discovering one of my UFO's (unfinished objects) in the future and her choosing to add her own ideas to mine.

 Mother was dedicated to doing her best work when sewing for us. At the same time, I remember a  phrase she often used. Sometimes I'd be standing and turning and turning as she turned up the hem on a skirt when she would finally declare, "It will never be seen on a galloping horse." That was my release. Today I recall her words and read a different meaning there. I use the "galloping horse phrase" to remind myself that once I've done my best work I have satisfied myself. I have no need to criticize or apologize for the outcome. Striving and fretting to achieve standards set by someone else doesn't make sense or seem much fun to me. I want to gallop on....