Could be the Last Baby Quilt

Max arrived recently. His big sister has one of my quilts, so he gets one too. I make them fairly quickly out of whatever is at hand, and take particular pleasure in giving them a complementary pieced backing made from my stash of flannel samples. Max's is a triumph of the scrap ethic, made completely from the left-overs from another quilter's project.

I've said it before: this is my last baby quilt.

Why? there are bound to be more babies, some with a family precedent of a quilt from Auntie Sarah, and all needing quilts. I have more than enough fabric, and get a lot of pleasure out of being able to bring a special gift.

I have to stop, because snuggling in behind that fuzzy feel-good factor they are thieves.

The baby quilts steal my most precious, scarce resources: time, willpower, focus. I do good work on them, but not my best work. I offer that work up to the least critical audience imaginable. I romanticise the beauty of the motherhood I don't participate in. I choose to make a pretty baby quilt rather than struggle with the challenge of creating the weird wonderful unique images that rarely get past the sketchbook.

I make the baby quilts as cuddle rugs to comfort my own fear of inadequacy, of failure, of success. Knowing this, how can I make another?

Full and empty

Wow, I got full on vacation. Eyes and ears, mind and heart wide open to everything around me. And there was so much! Museums, galleries, concerts, classes, conversations, scenery, activity, shoe-shopping... Enough already!

I even came back about 8kg heavier, and no, this was not my shoes.

So despite my ambitious plans to stitch every minute, exercise every day, blog every week, I've actually "done" very little. Because I have been TOO FULL. Too full to chase an idea & catch it, too full to flex myself around it and figure out what it is, too full to tip-toe up to it and invite it to dance.

Instead, I've been emptying.

My do-list: caught up on baby-quilts & birthdy quilt blocks for my group and a bunch of other small, no-brainer activities
My stash: gave away almost everything I took to the US (more room for shoes!), using up fabrics more generously in shared projects, working from the stash rather than the shop
My ideas: reviewed the outstanding projects/ideas list and realised that I've outgrown many of them. I don't need to make them now, just because they were a great idea at the time. Just because it's in my sketchbook (thanks Kathryn) does not mean I am committed to making them.
My heart: took a good hard look at some grief I carry around, and made some more steps toward valuing that pain that is no one's fault and nothing will change

Current state? Light, empty, free... and ready to commit to the first large and serious project since Floating Cubes. This new work has a working title of "Pharmaceutical Comforter" and you will be hearing quite a bit more about it

Blogging every day of June?

well, not so much. Life got so interesting to experience there was little time to write.

There was, in no particular order:

singing in Carnegie Hall,

shopping in SoHo - 5 pairs of shoes & nearly 3 specs frames,

art at the Guggenheim, with a side-order of deepening friendship, an opportunity to share timethat real life at home would never allow,

antiquitity and fearsome modernity at the Met, with another friendly bonus,

dancing to the blues till the small hours of the morning,

joining a party and having a fun little flirtation,

a glimpse of what's the big deal of mirrored buildings

...and all this before I got to the really serious bit. It will be weeks before it's all caught up. Patience, grasshoppers

Enough already!

Today I experienced a couple of strong contrasts, both rather poignant, and one not very flattering to me.

I visited Ellis Island. Unlike most of the "lower socio-economic status" immigrants who were processed here, I was free to move through the buildings and grounds as I pleased, and to depart on whichever ferry I chose. These are different times, my status vis-a-vis the state is different. I feel lucky to be here and now.

The other difference is that most of the immigrants were very poor, right on the borderline of acceptance in the test of ability to support themselves. Whereas I walked up Broadway, and bought four more pairs of utterly frivolous shoes. Since then my greatest worry has been how I'll fit this abundance of personal wealth into my luggage. Still feeling lucky, but it has a taint. Say what you like about supporting the economy, sometimes nothing but the word greed will do.