Rachel Donnison - My First Quilt
In August this year I finished my first quilt. 'About time!' you might say considering I've been a member of London Quilters since late 2009. In March that year I'd walked into WH Smith and bought a copy of Quilting Magazine. I remember the moment clearly because, while nobody else took any notice, to me it felt defiant, even transgressive. For years my life had been taken up in caring for home and family and long hours of often stressful work. Just occasionally a yearning would steal over me to do something creative with my hands that had absolutely nothing to do with the relentless demands of the 'time is money' work culture and serving the needs of others. I'd successfully suppressed this feeling for so long but that day it had stood its ground and refused to be ignored anymore.
I pored over the pages of that magazine entranced by photos of bright traditional quilts, trying to work out how they were constructed. I was intrigued by the textile art pieces. It seemed that fabric could be dyed and quilted to resemble ripples on a lake! (That was a shibori piece by Janice Gunner, whom I have now seen in real life at LQ). There were ads for quilting courses, shops, even quilting holidays. In fact, in this magazine was a whole world of creativity that I hadn't even known existed. It seemed to be populated almost entirely by plump middle aged women - and they all looked happy. Perhaps one day in the distant future I might join them.
In this life-changing magazine was a full page advert for the Festival of Quilts. It dawned on me that even though I didn't have the time to start sewing, I could go to Birmingham for just one day - all by myself, to do something that had nothing whatsoever to do with work or family. Even if I had to wait till August this thought would keep me going.
I remember clearly that when entering the NEC for the first time I was stunned by the sheer scale of the show – it was like being hit by a tsunami of colour, shapes, textures and other people's creativity. To see so many quilts traditional, modern and art pieces was a revelation. Here was the world of the quilters and yes, they were mainly plump middle aged women looking happy to be there - hundreds of them!
I returned to London and work but soon after I bumped into Sabi Westoby who invited me to visit LQ. 'But I can't quilt,' I protested feebly. 'That doesn't matter,' she insisted so I visited and joined up immediately. I have attended many meetings since then and learned so much not just about techniques, colour, texture and design but also discovered a new way of looking at the world as you do when your approach becomes visual rather than verbal. Leaving the hall after a meeting, ordinary things outside were transformed. A block of concrete flats that looked so bleak when I'd passed it earlier, now with some windows lit up, appeared to be a collection of dark and bright rectangles with a background of subtle curves and shades in the night sky behind. The wet pavement was a tessellation and the branches of a tree could be rendered in stitches on top of the hard shapes of the buildings behind. Once you get this insight it's like wearing special glasses and, with practice the effect doesn't wear off. So a field of bright oil seed rape surrounded by hedges with blue sky above perhaps reflected in water below with dry reeds in the foreground, immediately suggests a landscape quilt design. Even if you never do anything to realise that design yourself, the thought process fires your imagination.
I was still working and not sewing but I discovered a shop, The Bead Company, a few doors down from my office. Occasionally I managed to steal away for a few minutes to go there. So quiet after the thundering traffic and sirens on Kentish Town Road outside, it was like a portal into that other world, a tranquil place where no phones rang, where women thoughtfully examined beautiful ribbons or took their time to choose intricate embellishments for a wedding dress. There was a wall display of specialist sewing equipment whose uses were a mystery to me. In this special place it seemed there was no pressure to continually measure time and output.
I was embarrassed to be the LQ member who had never made a quilt when others had made so many beautiful creations. There was a waiting list for the group - perhaps I should leave to make space for someone more productive? I'd walk in feeling like a fraud and almost dreading the usual greeting, 'How are you? What are you making?' But I needn't have worried because when I confessed I still hadn't made a quilt, the response of other members was always along the lines of, 'But you will!' often followed by kind offers of help to get me started.
So I kept coming to meetings; I listened to the speakers, carefully examined the amazing work of others and borrowed many books. I retired in 2014 - so what held me back from starting my first quilt for so long? Truly it was the fear of embarking on a project however small which would all go wrong, wasting time and money as well as inconveniencing my family while I monopolised the kitchen table for days maybe weeks. I'd already made blocks for two group quilts, both of which had had to be rescued by more experienced hands.
But the time came when it had to be done and I decided to make a lap quilt for my father-in-law who at 92 years was not getting any younger. I kept it very simple made of squares with two borders and straight quilting. Despite my best efforts, not all the squares lined up with total accuracy, which was demoralising because I couldn't have done it any more carefully. LQ members were very reassuring that these little discrepancies would disappear under quilting (not entirely true but encouraging nonetheless!).
The themes in this lap quilt for my Welsh father in law were tea drinking and gardening (him) plus beekeeping (me). The backing fabric was a design of hundreds of tiny sheep to celebrate the Llandovery Sheep Festival which he set up there. The photograph is not very good but gives an idea of the quilt. However, if I had known in advance how much time and, indeed, money this small quilt would require of me I might have hesitated. But when I finally presented it to him, the genuine happiness it gave him was far more than I could have hoped for. Truly some things really are priceless and not to be measured.
Having spent so many hours on this small quilt only to give it away, there is now a gap in my life – until I start making another one.
I'm grateful to London Quilters, not just for laying on such interesting professional speakers and providing all the resources, but also for the friendship, the patient encouragement and the generous sharing of skills and inspiration without which I never would have got started. Such voluntary societies are so valuable and no-one should underestimate just how much work and goodwill this requires from those who run them.
Rachel Donnison 7 October 2016
In August this year I finished my first quilt. 'About time!' you might say considering I've been a member of London Quilters since late 2009. In March that year I'd walked into WH Smith and bought a copy of Quilting Magazine. I remember the moment clearly because, while nobody else took any notice, to me it felt defiant, even transgressive. For years my life had been taken up in caring for home and family and long hours of often stressful work. Just occasionally a yearning would steal over me to do something creative with my hands that had absolutely nothing to do with the relentless demands of the 'time is money' work culture and serving the needs of others. I'd successfully suppressed this feeling for so long but that day it had stood its ground and refused to be ignored anymore.
I pored over the pages of that magazine entranced by photos of bright traditional quilts, trying to work out how they were constructed. I was intrigued by the textile art pieces. It seemed that fabric could be dyed and quilted to resemble ripples on a lake! (That was a shibori piece by Janice Gunner, whom I have now seen in real life at LQ). There were ads for quilting courses, shops, even quilting holidays. In fact, in this magazine was a whole world of creativity that I hadn't even known existed. It seemed to be populated almost entirely by plump middle aged women - and they all looked happy. Perhaps one day in the distant future I might join them.
In this life-changing magazine was a full page advert for the Festival of Quilts. It dawned on me that even though I didn't have the time to start sewing, I could go to Birmingham for just one day - all by myself, to do something that had nothing whatsoever to do with work or family. Even if I had to wait till August this thought would keep me going.
I remember clearly that when entering the NEC for the first time I was stunned by the sheer scale of the show – it was like being hit by a tsunami of colour, shapes, textures and other people's creativity. To see so many quilts traditional, modern and art pieces was a revelation. Here was the world of the quilters and yes, they were mainly plump middle aged women looking happy to be there - hundreds of them!
I returned to London and work but soon after I bumped into Sabi Westoby who invited me to visit LQ. 'But I can't quilt,' I protested feebly. 'That doesn't matter,' she insisted so I visited and joined up immediately. I have attended many meetings since then and learned so much not just about techniques, colour, texture and design but also discovered a new way of looking at the world as you do when your approach becomes visual rather than verbal. Leaving the hall after a meeting, ordinary things outside were transformed. A block of concrete flats that looked so bleak when I'd passed it earlier, now with some windows lit up, appeared to be a collection of dark and bright rectangles with a background of subtle curves and shades in the night sky behind. The wet pavement was a tessellation and the branches of a tree could be rendered in stitches on top of the hard shapes of the buildings behind. Once you get this insight it's like wearing special glasses and, with practice the effect doesn't wear off. So a field of bright oil seed rape surrounded by hedges with blue sky above perhaps reflected in water below with dry reeds in the foreground, immediately suggests a landscape quilt design. Even if you never do anything to realise that design yourself, the thought process fires your imagination.
I was still working and not sewing but I discovered a shop, The Bead Company, a few doors down from my office. Occasionally I managed to steal away for a few minutes to go there. So quiet after the thundering traffic and sirens on Kentish Town Road outside, it was like a portal into that other world, a tranquil place where no phones rang, where women thoughtfully examined beautiful ribbons or took their time to choose intricate embellishments for a wedding dress. There was a wall display of specialist sewing equipment whose uses were a mystery to me. In this special place it seemed there was no pressure to continually measure time and output.
I was embarrassed to be the LQ member who had never made a quilt when others had made so many beautiful creations. There was a waiting list for the group - perhaps I should leave to make space for someone more productive? I'd walk in feeling like a fraud and almost dreading the usual greeting, 'How are you? What are you making?' But I needn't have worried because when I confessed I still hadn't made a quilt, the response of other members was always along the lines of, 'But you will!' often followed by kind offers of help to get me started.
So I kept coming to meetings; I listened to the speakers, carefully examined the amazing work of others and borrowed many books. I retired in 2014 - so what held me back from starting my first quilt for so long? Truly it was the fear of embarking on a project however small which would all go wrong, wasting time and money as well as inconveniencing my family while I monopolised the kitchen table for days maybe weeks. I'd already made blocks for two group quilts, both of which had had to be rescued by more experienced hands.
But the time came when it had to be done and I decided to make a lap quilt for my father-in-law who at 92 years was not getting any younger. I kept it very simple made of squares with two borders and straight quilting. Despite my best efforts, not all the squares lined up with total accuracy, which was demoralising because I couldn't have done it any more carefully. LQ members were very reassuring that these little discrepancies would disappear under quilting (not entirely true but encouraging nonetheless!).
The themes in this lap quilt for my Welsh father in law were tea drinking and gardening (him) plus beekeeping (me). The backing fabric was a design of hundreds of tiny sheep to celebrate the Llandovery Sheep Festival which he set up there. The photograph is not very good but gives an idea of the quilt. However, if I had known in advance how much time and, indeed, money this small quilt would require of me I might have hesitated. But when I finally presented it to him, the genuine happiness it gave him was far more than I could have hoped for. Truly some things really are priceless and not to be measured.
Having spent so many hours on this small quilt only to give it away, there is now a gap in my life – until I start making another one.
I'm grateful to London Quilters, not just for laying on such interesting professional speakers and providing all the resources, but also for the friendship, the patient encouragement and the generous sharing of skills and inspiration without which I never would have got started. Such voluntary societies are so valuable and no-one should underestimate just how much work and goodwill this requires from those who run them.
Rachel Donnison 7 October 2016