Begining of the End
As I'm still a beginner (albeit on the high end - this will be my 7th quilt) I'm just using the stitch-in-the-ditch method - even if I felt comfortable trying a pattern I think I would still use this method though. It lends itself towards the feeling of simplicity that I am going for.
|E's bed and cranes. You can read more about them here|
Every night, we do the routine - we read books, say prayers, turn out the lights and chat for a bit so they can tell me about their day. I kiss them goodnight and walk out of the room. And then the fun begins. For the next two hours I either have to hold their door closed, or like last night, sit down to my sewing machine (I need to give that thing a name) just to get up every five minutes because I hear the pitter patter of tiny feet and giggles. Inevitably Mommy turns into an ogre, there are tears (from all parties involved) and the girls fall asleep in a bedroom that looks like a tornado ripped through it since I put them to bed - on beds with no covers... you get the picture. It drives me batty, it makes me sad, it makes mornings less than fun and it cuts into my precious, creative, "me" time. Call me selfish if you will, but trust me - I'm a much happier person (and mom) if I get that time.
But, despite the obstacles I was able to spend a blissful two hours last night, working on my creation and listening to Peony in Love by Lisa See on my Kindle. If you haven't read her books I highly recomend them - I've read, and loved them all. As I sit there and work, listening to something so emotionally charged it led me to understand something about my work - and that I've read about in articles about pricing your work. I pour so much emotion into my work - and this quilt hasn't been any exception, that I have grown to love it. Before I put it away in its basket last night I wrapped it around me (getting stuck by a safety pin in my side in the process) and felt the comfort that quilts offer. But I felt even more than usual (and no, it wasn't pain or the blood dripping down my side), I felt all the love I've poured into it - linen is more difficult than cotton to work with so it has taken more time than any other quilt I've made. I felt the added wieght that the linen offers, and the odd (but wonderful) sensation it gives. It is cool, warm, smooth and rough all at the same time. As I am begining to finish this quilt I am excited to see the finished product, but I am also sad because it hopefully will be going to a new home. And yet I secretly hope that it won't. That no one will want it - because of the attachment I feel to it now.
I used to feel guilt and some doubt when I considered the price I would charge for this quilt. But after last night, reflecting on how much time I spent into searching out used and discarded linen clothing with life still in it, cutting out the pieces, piecing it together, the endless ironing at every stage, etc... combined with the attachment I've developed - I don't feel guilty at all.
I saw a quote a while ago "quality will be remembered long after the price is forgotten". I want this quilt to go to someone who is willing to pay my price because I want them to value it like I do. People talk every day about finding the best bargin, but I wonder if they value items that they get for the lowest price or if they just subconsciously think it doesn't matter if they don't care for it because it won't cost them so much to replace it.
|here is a treasury with a smattering of one of a kind items|
on etsy. To see more click here.