On hope and the creative process

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about hope, and it's part in the creative process. I've been putting together thoughts about how hope drives my making.

My first thought with this idea of making things as an outpouring of hope, was "I'm sure someone else has already made this connection, and has better articulated it." I was right. I discovered Sister Corita Kent.

So, I quickly checked out two books featuring the works and ideas of Corita Kent, and they did not disappoint. Her words contain so many gems, that I have started to think, but that she clearly lays out, and seemed to live out, in such a graceful way. 

Another quote that kept springing to mind, to mix in with this flurry of thoughts, was from one of my favorite Sufjan Stevens songs. In his song Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid), there is a line that has always resonated with me. 

The song is soft, slow, and not so much hopeful. But this line connects something I have always believed, and something that the art and craft community act on daily.

So, what am I trying to say? What am I learning, connecting, and understanding from these ideas? Why post about these? 

I don't know, is the short answer, and one that I use frequently in life. 

But these ideas are drawing me out, and helping me become more of who God has created me to be. 

Hope is my struggle. It does not come easily for me, and I have often approached it wearily and cautiously. 

So, as I more and more understand that hope is in the essence of my making of things...

Well, it's a bit baffling, but it explains so much. It explains why I turn away from creating things, when I feel hopeless and depressed. 

So, I am learning. This is part of the creative process for me. 

This inner dialogue is still percolating and waiting on the God's wisdom for what it all means for me. 

A Fairy Pouch, but really so much more.

So, last week I was struck with inspiration. The fast as lighting, flying by the seat of your pants, type of inspiration.

So, I picked out some fabric and drew up a pattern for a purse.

I then cut out some grey fabric with sparkle polka dots. I started layering other fabrics over it. 

I then glued those fabrics down, stitched them down, stitched the outside of the pouch together and then waxed them. All of this happened quickly and excitedly, acting on the passion that comes with initial inspiration. 

Then, after the waxing, I realized that my hand does not fit in. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to attach the lining though the layers of waxed cotton. I was sure it was a complete failure. I was frustrated, and flustered. I didn't know how to proceed. I was going to put it on the shelf and move on to something else, as I have done many times before with these types of projects.

But, but... 

But then something amazing happening. I didn't stop. I kept going. I decided, oh, well, it's not exactly as I envisioned it, from a function point of view, but I can figure it out. It's okay if it's not perfect. It can still be a lovely finished object. I feel as though the Holy Spirit stepped in, and kept me moving beyond my old nature, into the grace that God has for me. It was certainly beyond my own capabilities. 

I finished it. It's lined, and although it doesn't have a handle of any sort yet, as I had originally imagined it, I feel like it is complete. I decided it looked like something that a fairy might collect important items into, like dew drops and starlight.

 So, it's my fairy pouch, a reminder that God's grace (that inexplicable magic of love and mercy) even enters into my humble acts of creating. 

Linked up at Off the Wall friday, Confessions of a Fabric Addict, and Crazy Mom Quilts

A Special Quilt Finish

I have finally finished the first quilt I ever made.

After piecing, and quilting this quilt over a decade ago, last week I sat down and finished hand stitching the binding.

Last week, my Aunt who helped me though almost every step of this quilt, passed away unexpectedly. When I was in high school, she went through her scrap bins with me, helped me cut, stitch, quilt, and start the binding on this pretty crazy quilt. We made it big enough for the twin bed that I was sleeping on at the time, which it never actually adorned. I have so many wonderful memories of working on this project with her, and the week I spent at her home finishing it up (mostly) one summer. 

I loved the narration she gave about the various fabrics. I know the light pink kitten print, close to center, was a scrap from a nightgown she made for my cousin when she was a girl. She always endearingly referred to the fabric with the people in windows as her "people." She directed me towards alternating light and dark fabric, but as the end product shows I didn't follow that advice too carefully. 

We made up a handful of these star blocks (that I don't know the name of), and put them though out. She taught me how to square up the quilt (which I have since completely forgotten how to do), select and add the borders, quilt, FMQ and bind. Another Aunt who is an avid quilter helped me with the final layout of the blocks and stitched the top together. 

She helped me write and put a tag on the quilt.  We naively assumed that I would finish up the hand stitching on the binding within the month (July 2001), instead it took 15 years. So perhaps I should edit the tag to mention that it was actually finished May 2016? I no longer sleep in a twin bed, my last name is no longer Jeffers, but this quilt is still made with love. That is still true. It is made with tears now stitched in the binding, as I visited the fabrics and the time I spent making it with my now passed Aunt. 

I will miss my dear Aunt Sue. Looking over this quilt now, it is clear to me the love and patience she showed me while teaching me all about sewing and quilting during this project. She directed me, encouraged me, and overlooked the flaws of this quilt. She was a wonderful lady and she will be sorely missed. 

I FMQed my name into the border.
Her Bernina definitely did FMQ better than my Brother does. :)

There are so many imperfections that I used to see in this quilt, but now I mainly see love.