Welcome!

I've been quilting for just over five years now ~ Contemplate Then Wait has become a place to reflect on that journey, one quilt at a time.

I hope you'll stop by often to enjoy 'trunk show' photos/stories for each of my quilts.

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The following was written a year or so into my quilting adventure, in response to several frequently asked questions . . .


How do you make a quilt?

It depends.

Depends on what?

Well, it depends on oa mixture of the following: the time of year, the way I feel, who it is for, what fabric I have on hand or fall in love with, how big it needs to be, whether I feel like spending more time designing and selecting fabrics or cutting the pieces or sewing them together, but especially whether I want to make a "formula" quilt or leave my efforts open to serendipity.

Okay. So how long does it take you to make a quilt?

[Pause] Let's just start at the beginning.

At any moment in time, I have at least a dozen partially formed quilts in my head. The ideas come from pictures in catalogs and magazines, nature, memories, artwork, poetry . . . in other words, anything I see or feel.

For example, I spent a year or more gathering an assortment of royal blue and sunshine yellow fabrics with roses, tea cups, florentine swirls, vines, and other classical elements. Since I believe in waiting for each quilt to tell me what it wants to be, the fabrics were washed and stacked neatly on a shelf in my closet, waiting for that moment to arrive (they finally became a glorious quilt named Afternoon Tea, created using the Yellow Brick Road pattern and gifted in December 2006 ~ in the end, it wasnt' about the pattern, it was all about the colors and the fabrics).

When I started on Decadent Dreaming (the chocolate quilt made for our older son and his fiancee), I knew exactly what pattern I wanted to use and that it would be made from a scrappy mix of dark browns and rich creams. What suprised and delighted me was putting the first block together the wrong way and ending up with a wonderful design I never anticipated.

The sunshine and shadow quilt I made (Garden of Grace) was triggered by a pattern that had appeared in a quilt magazine six months earlier. I loved the simple yet complex feel and the unlimited possibilities it offered. When I chanced upon the focus fabric, I knew instantly how the quilt would proceed. Then life got in the way.

Waiting is a very important aspect that it took me a while to learn. Even when I don't want to, I need to wait and let and quilt tell me when it is ready to be created.

Early on, I purchased yards and yards of fabric to make quilts for our three nephews. I chose a single pattern and three very different color palettes. But, over time, none of the quilts became what I originally intended. One became a wedding quilt while the other two became high school graduation quilts ~ each as unique as the recipient(s).

Another example involves a fat quarter bundle of flannels ~ I designed at least a dozen different quilts with those rose-strewn greens and burgundies but nothing was cut until, one day, I realized I was simply trying too hard. Within a short time, Wintertime Roses happened. Created using the reliable Yellow Brick Road pattern, the fabrics became the focus and the quilt has become a favorite when one of us is home not feeling well.

So, what is a formula quilt?

Something that I rarely make. I don't like to make quilts that look just like everyone else's quilt. Even if I use a trusted pattern like Yellow Brick Road, my quilt will be unique because of the fabrics I choose and remaining open to letting the quilt choose its own destiny.

But how do you actually MAKE a quilt?

The first step is combining the thoughts in my head with a design and the right colors. These can arrive at different times and usually do.

Once I have the fabrics, they get washed and dried (and sometimes ironed if they're too wrinkled out of the dryer).

Next comes the cutting out stage. I have to be in the right frame of mind to cut. Sometimes that is when I'm really stressed out and wound up. Other times, I prefer to cut because I just don't want to sit and stitch. I've learned that it doesn't work for me to cut too late at night because I can't keep my quarter inches straight and I make too many mistakes.

After enough of the pieces are cut out, comes the stitching. Some quilts are put together one block at a time but I get bored if all of the blocks are exactly the same. That's why I love scrappy quilts so much.

I have a design wall in my studio, so as soon as I finish each block it goes up on the wall. I am energized as I watch the quilt begin to appear before my eles. I've tried to make all the blocks, piling them neatly on my sewing table as I go, then laying out the quilt all at once ~ but that method frustrates me. I need to see the evolution (which also means I often change directions as I work).

Once the blocks are assembled into rows and the rows into a top, the borders are added.

I audition border fabrics the entire time I am stitching blocks ~ and I love the 'eureka' moment when the 'right' one becomes obvious.

The back of the quilt is very important to me. I've made strip-pieeced backs, solid backs, and scrappy pieced backs ~ always so that the back sings in harmony with the front, or I am miserable.

At this point, I hand off the top and back to my trusted longarm quilter, who works her magic and turns the separate pieces of my work into a cohesive whole. She is passionate about her art and it shows. Even though we talk about the feel and intended purpose of the quilt, I give her complete freedom to use her artistic talent to do whatever the quilt asks for and needs. I've never been disappointed.

After she returns the quilt to me, I 'tame' it by trimming off the extra backing and batting. All at once, the quilt is no longer an unwieldly mass that refuses to be folded neatly, but a quilt in need of binding ~ and my heart soars.

The binding strips are cut 2-1/4" wide, pieced end to end, and pressed in half lengthwise before being stitched to the outer edge of the quilt.

I hand stitch the binding to the back of the quilt. There are quilters who machine stitch the binding, but I treasure this time that I spend with the quilt (and usually a kitty) in my lap.

Finally, unless it is a wall hanging, the quilt is washed and dried. I can't adequately explain what happens during this process except to share that the quilt comes out all crinkly and soft. I adore those first few minutes with a quilt fresh from the dryer.

The last major steps involve the entry in my quilt journal. I always take pictures of each quilt. I prefer to take these outdoors in the sunshine ~ with the quilt draped over the wicker rocker on our front porch, on a park bench, over an iron fence, or laying on a huge rock. My journal entries don't contain the brand of fabric or type of thread used, but rather how creating the quilt made me feel, or why I made it, or how it taught me something during the process.

I am not a production quilter, nor am I a show quilter. I quilt because I love the colors, because I love seeing the response in the viewer's eyes, and because I love being able to share myself through the quilt.


Quiltdivajulie


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"Not everything you do is going to be a masterpiece, but you get out there and you try, and sometimes it really happens. The other times you're just stretching your soul."

(Maya Angelou)