A Quilt for Attawapiskat

Well, the First Nations community of Attawapiskat has suffered yet another blow. On the CBC, they reminded us of how, two years ago, the sewage system suffered a fatal breakdown, and the response was to install temporary housing for the families there.

Two years in temporary housing. Well, to some people that doesn't seem like such a bad thing. But have you looked at a map? We're talking just about Arctic here.

Families. That means old women and children. Babies.

One working toilet for 80 people. One working kitchen for 80 people.

I would hate to share my bathroom with 80 people. And I can barely tolerate my Boyfriend helping me in the kitchen, much less having 80 people trying to get meals going.

I'd be discouraged. Wouldn't you?

Then two months ago the power went off. Did Ontario Hydro rush to the scene? I mean, this is sub-Arctic climate here. Was it an emergency that all these people had no power?

Apparently not.

When we had the Ice Storm here, people started using fireplaces, Coleman stoves, candles, anything they could to stay warm.

And of course, that's what the people of Attawapiskat had to do.

Here, we had people burn their homes down in trying to keep warm. And two weeks ago, that's what happened in Attawapiskat.

Of course it happened. 

Now, I'm not a historian or a specialist in Aboriginal affairs. I can't begin to guess at how this situation got the way it has. I'm sure of one thing - there has been bad faith, mismanagement, lack of understanding and lack of trust, maybe on both "sides," more likely on "ours."

But I am a mother, a daughter, and a quilter. And I'm 56 years old. I've had experiences that have taught me that a little compassion goes a long way. That nobody gets up, yawns and stretches in the morning, looks in the mirror and says "Today, I think I'll become a statistic."

I've learned that life throws us curves. That some of us are luckier than others. We got born into a relatively affluent society, on the right side of the color-and-creed barriers.

And others weren't so lucky. The cynics would say "So what, that's life, it sucks to be you."

I'm pretty sure that if any of us had to live in these kind of conditions, we'd squawk. I'm also pretty sure that if the power went out here, they'd be working hard to get it back on.

Because. We. "Count."

Well, I could go on about this forever, but in the interests of getting to the point, I'm going to send a quilt to one of the persons who has been displaced by the fire.

It's nothing. It's a drop in a sea. It will actually be a large investment of my time and will take determination to see that it ends up keeping somebody warm, because I don't actually know anybody from Attawapiskat.

I'm well-placed in my job to have some contacts, and earlier this week I met with two Aboriginal women to discuss the way I could somehow get a quilt to one of these displaced persons. I'd like the label I will put on it to eventually read "You are not alone." Or "you are not forgotten." Or something like that. But that's even harder to figure out, because then not only does someone have to point the way to a displaced person, it means finding someone who speaks their language and can write the syllabics for me to embroider or appliqué onto the quilt.

One step at a time. If all I can do is send one person a quilt that will keep them warm, that's one thing I can do.

So, has anybody had experience with wool batting? I have a feeling it's warmer than cotton, but I wonder about shrinkage.

All kind comments are appreciated.

Welcome to the Blogathon - Quilting in the 21st century

How do you like it?

What is it? It's a QR code - hmm, though most people who are actively following a blogathon probably already know that. (It's like a bar code, but a cell phone can read it. You get the app for the phone, point it at the qr code, and the app then takes you straight to the web page. It also remembers it for you. No need to write down interminable URLs any more.)

I had hoped, when the idea first came to me, to actually get this made into a quilt before the blogathon, but life, as usual, got in the way.

You can make them in different colors, by the way, and they can still be read. (No pun intended!)

You can even, if you're very advanced technologically, put images into them. I will - one day - but for now it will be probably blue and white, and I'll make one for my guild, as a sample of 21st-century quilting.

A lot of us have been dragged into the online world (kicking and screaming!). My guild (Mosaique) recently held our bi-annual quilt show, and for the first time none of us were allowed to register by filling in a piece of paper - it had to be done online. The reason? It was me doing the registration, and I'm notoriously disorganized. Had it been done by papers, the papers would have been lost. Not an "if," but a "how many!"

Now, some of the ladies needed a bit of help. I took dictation from one lady to make sure she sent in her quilts to be exhibited. She's a repeat prize-winner, so it was necessary to help her along if we were to get her entries into the show. And yes, she won a prize, again!

And I made two mistakes anyway, in the transferring of data from one program to another, but it wasn't lost and I managed with help to get everything fixed in time for the show. (whew!)

But it made me think...

We quilters are practitioners of an ancient and honorable art. Our heads are full of thread count and color, patterns, techniques that have come down to us, mostly through family members, over generations. We are not necessarily the most technologically-oriented individuals.

And yet...and yet...Didn't long-ago quilters, women who were denied any education beyond how to cook and clean, work out complex patterns that go way beyond my (educated) understanding of geometry? Didn't they invent clever systems of dividing fabric and multiplying patterns without our modern systems of measurement?

The patterns I'm willing to try pale by comparison to those of these pioneers.

I'm an AV Technician. I grew up playing with machinery. But even I'm being left behind in the dust of the information revolution. I am struggling in my day job to keep up with the young whippersnappers and "propeller-heads" who I work with, me trying not to look too stupid in their young eyes!

In the guild, I'm pretty near the forefront of technology. At least I'm not actually afraid of it. But while technology is a tool, and a very powerful one, it is not the driving force behind quilting. Social media doesn't actually replace social get-togethers.

The simple act of putting a needle into fabric I find to be a calming, almost meditative, practise. A way to calm my mind, to re-connect with the past, to slow down for a little while and do something that can be done faster, better, and cheaper by machine. But I take pleasure in it.

And there's the key - we people who are drawn to the needle arts take pleasure in this physical activity which calms our minds.

Technology is a wonderful tool. Here we are in a blogathon, women from across one of the largest land masses in the world, who don't know each other, sharing pictures, ideas, tips, techniques... But above all, sharing a fascination with fabric and thread.

We can use technology the way we use thread - to hold us all together.

A Learning Experience

Brace yourselves - I've been humbled.

When I first took up quilting, I couldn't for the life of me understand why people didn't do more adventurous machine quilting. Why longarm quilters seemed obssessed with continuous line patterns. And why quilters everywhere seemed to love doing baby quilts and wall hangings.

Well, I can now say I finally understand.

There have been a number or births recently among my family and friends. I was bemoaning how many years I was behind in quilting, how I wanted to give baby quilts but I had such a backlog...

Well, this week I made three baby quilts. The first one went together easily - all 4-inch squares from a precut set. Add borders, quilt on the diagonal, and bind.

Then I discovered in my stash two Laurel Burch panels, each with 9 images of cats with kittens, including baby carriages.

Now, in quiltspeak, a panel is a "cheater." But I've just mostly finished the first panel, and boy, did I learn some lessons doing it!

Firstly, I thought I'd never get through it. Because of course, I wasn't quilting this one on the diagonal, I was outlining all the animals and flowers.

And, since I'm no longer a beginner, I left the beginning and ending threads nice and long so I could later bury them in the quilt.

Lesson one: machine quilters use continuous line patterns because then they don't end up with five million threads to knot and bury!

I sat down with my panel and began to clip threads at eight o'clock this evening. It is now midnight, and I've just finished.

Actual hand quilting is soothing. Tying off the ends of hundreds of threads is not. It is tedious, uncomfortable, and boring.

About half way through I wanted so badly to just clip all those thread ends, like I used to, before I knew what I was doing! Who am I kidding - this thing ain't gonna be around for a hundred years! Why didn't I just backtrack over the seam ends and cut the damned things?

Because (unfortunately) I now know better. So I threaded, tied, buried, and clipped. For four hours. And the sad part is, there is more quilting to do on it again tomorrow. But at least the worst is over for now.

I also gained a flash of insight into why people quilting on home machines don't do more adventurous quilting - lots of twisting and turning and creative stuff. Becuase the stupid basting threads keep getting snagged, that's why! Had I been quilting on the diagonal, this thing would have been finished in an hour! But it took four hours to quilt it, plus the four hours to clip the threads!

I even tried out the free motion foot - wisely testing it out on spare fabric. And I couldn't get the tension right for the bottom thread. And yes, I put the presser foot down to adjust the tension. I have no problem doing free motion sewing on my home machine - except the bobbin thread lies flat as a pancake on the reverse side. 

A few years ago, I would have just used the free motion foot, damn the tension!

But I know better now. Now I want the reverse side to look nice.

So I went back to the regular foot, with a renewed understanding of why most quilters who use home machines don't go in for fancy stuff. Lesson two.

And as to lesson three - why quilters prefer to make wall hangings and baby quilts? Because you can finish them on your home machine and they don't take half a year to make.

I don't know which of the seven babies born recently will be getting my three baby quilts. But I'm glad I made them. I'm glad I took a break from the other projects that have been weighing me down. Back to them next week.

Too Much Fabric

I got all worked up yesterday at Fabricville. I found some sheer cotton/silk fabric in the right colors for my kitchen/diningroom curtains. I've been hoping to find this kind of fabric for some time, sheer enough to see through but not made of organza, which in this country only comes in polyester, not silk.

The idea is to use my quilting skills and create a simple design: one white patch, one yellow patch, alternating. Checkerboard. In a soft fabric that lets in lots of light.

The first barrier to this notion was finding the right yellow. I hate scatological colors. (I.e., piss-yellow.) There is a plethora of scatological yellows out there, and I detest all of them. Finally yesterday, when I was browsing, I found exactly the right color of yellow and a matching texture of white. I had to act.

But how much to buy? I didn't have the window measurements with me.

I stood staring at the cutting table for about half an hour, picturing the windows. I estimated one window to be two meters wide and the other one meter. Remembering that French pleats take three times the width of the window in fabric, I estimated I needed nine meters of fabric - 4.5 in yellow and 4.5 in white. I bought ten meters in all.

On the way home I began to wonder if that was enough. I hadn't thought about how much fabric would be used up by the seam allowances, especially since I intended to do French seams, which take double the seam allowance.

When I got home the first thing I did was measure the windows. One was exactly two meters wide, and the other just under a meter. Yay! I had estimated correctly! I had enough fabric and the right amount of tape for French pleats.

The this morning it hit me - I wanted to tab curtains. Tab curtains, not French pleats, in the kitchen/diningroom!

So, anybody want six meters of yellow and white fabric?

It ain't over yet...

I was so thrilled to hand over the quilt to my friend J. to be quilted. The "memories" project, formerly known as the "dead-guy" quilt. After lugging his clothes around for five years and finally cutting them into rectangles last winter, after picking a pattern where I could use quilting cotton to control the stretch and sewing my strips and putting 30 squares together at last, I had decided, since I had two more of these things to do, that I would let J do the quilting of it, that I had "done my time."

But alas, it was not to be.

Seems the stretch is bogging down her longarm quilting machine. Even though she's doing free-motion stippling on a Gammill, she says the foot is still stretching the fabric and pushing it along. She's tried every way she can think of.

She thinks I'll have to tie it.

I know there's a solution, a way to have it quilted, but I don't know if I'm prepared to go there, after all the time I've put in (for free) and have yet to put into this project.

It's called hand-quilting. Now mind you, hand-quilting this puppy would be hell on earth - the fabrics are all different thicknesses, but the range is mostly from exta-thick to fluffy.

It would be extremely difficult to needle.

What is this part of me that longs to pass thread through 3 layers, be they as thick as seven? Why is it that I don't feel that a tied quilt is good enough?

I don't know.

I only know it ain't over yet.