Not only do I not arrange and pet my socks correctly, I am emotionally bonded with my "quilt stuff" and find it excrutiatingly difficult to divest myself of fabrics, notions, and books I might need some day. Nowhere in Ms. Kondo's best-seller is there any advice for the sewer/crafter who naturally collects tools and notions for his/her eventual work. We are, simply, outside her norm. And that's fine with me.
Answering the call for a Spring cleaning-theme blog, (See the blog hop links at the end-)I have put it on the line and hope that anyone who's actually visited my premises will be forgiving and not laugh aloud. Thank you.
The explosion of red fabrics above serves to show you what happens when my mind overloads with "I must make a red quilt." The result of this red riot was a quilt I gifted to my friend Fran. And yes, all that mess was necessary to eventually come up with the quilt.
Most of the time the fabric shelves are bulging and terribly messy.
And from time to time, the fabrics are neatened, patted in place, sorted and stacked. I try to do this once every 2-3 years.
I planned that the corner with Mom's rocking chair would be my little piece of hand-quilting zen territory. Instead it's turned into the staging area for quilts going in-and-out of huge bags as I pack/unpack from teaching trips. This is truly as neat as it gets.
At least in #2
At least in picture #2 you can see the chair.
Meanwhile I ponder why my art is so messy in its making. The quilts I sew are mostly patchwork and arranged in blocks. Perhaps my lifelong obsession with quilting is my feeble attempt at controlling the world around me. The only way I know to present order, beauty, and warmth at the same time.
Meteor Shower left
Chinese Coins right
Flower Market right
To paraphrase the bumper sticker: shit happens, art happens, quilts happen.
Shimaco with sashiko stitching
