The Quilts of Ann Brauer

Is simple as easy as it looks?

2012-01-30T07:47:00.000-05:00

I am not sure why but recently I have become interested in creating "simple" blocks of color that I can arrange to look like they just happened. I bet you think this is easy. One of those quilts that just happen. You know--the quilt that anyone can do. And maybe everyone else can do it--maybe it is just me that has problems with this--I don't know.

The last time I tried--years and years ago--before I had darling 2 Conway Street--and I was working in the basement of our house--my two kittens snuck into the studio and decided to "help" me by removing all the blocks of that quilt from the design board. Oh I was not happy. It took forever to re-arrange the work to get it right again.

Anyhow I decided to make a quilt that reflected the colors of the dawn through the mist. After all--these colors are soft and beautiful. How controlled could I be in adding different colors but still keeping the quilt cohesive? Could I get the quilt to look like it "just happened" but also work as art? I am doing the Baltimore Craft Show next month and I do need more quilts in my booth.

Sometimes you don't know unless you try. So I started sewing. Pinned up a few blocks. Amazing how a block can look out of place until it is surrounded by more blocks. What do I think of the dark block--will it give a feeling of depth to the quilt?

Is that orange block too intense? Out of place? What can I do?

Yes, moving it does help. I like how the greys in the upper corner anchor the space. What about the white as a counterpoint to the black? I will have to see.

Filling it in does answer some questions. Make what I know. I love how some of the prints are adding that bit of sparkle to the blocks--don't you? Still not sure about that orange though. Maybe it needs to be moved again. I keep piecing. One block at a time. Look. Squint. Sleep on the ideas. Make some placemats. This quilt takes forever.

Not bad. The orange now seems to be OK. But is the white too stark? Almost jarring? What if I redo it? Do I want to--no. I want it done but.... Let's see.

Yes, just that simple change makes the quilt more cohesive, doesn't it? What do you think? Does the quilt look planned but also spontaneous? Does it hold together but also interest the viewer? Have you ever tried to make a quilt that is just blocks of color? How do you maintain the integrity of the piece over time and still have surprises in it? The joy of the unexpected?

Getting into the zone--being creative

2012-01-24T08:02:00.003-05:00

How does one design new quilts? What is the inspiration? I think of the theories of evolution--Stephen Jay Gould claimed that life evolves in small steps and large leaps. Is it the same for art? Certainly one of the secrets is to work at your art regularly--you know that old saying--how do you get to Carnegie Hall? Certainly I know that works for me.

Beyond that--it is a bit of a mystery to--and I think I like it that way. Such a fragile time when one is inspired. I don't want to over-analyze. Jinx it. Anyhow--yesterday I had the new quilt--cold ocean --pinned up on the design board. Looks good doesn't it?

Sure I need to change the red. A bit more orange if you know what I mean. I think that will make it pop. Tomorrow I will play with it--see what happens.

Meanwhile I have a potential order for a large quilt for a Miami home. A great customer. Only she wants the quilt to be lighter in weight than I normally make. OK--I have an idea. Not sure if I can piece without doing the quilt as you go. After all, the customer likes my work--so I want the quilt to look like I made it.

Now yesterday was a grey day. Cold. Rain. Freezing rain. Even frizzle--yes, there is such a word. I had a couple more hours left in the studio. My pile of pieces that I had cut for other projects and not used was getting out of hand. The new studio is much smaller than Conway Street and I am trying to be neater--can an artist really be neat?

And in the back of my mind was a great web site that my friend Kari Lonning had just sent me--the textiles of Gunta Stolzl--have you seen it? So many designs condensed into a few images. Worth studying if you haven't seen it. http://design-milk.com/fabric-designs-by-gunta-stolzl/.

In any case I had an idea. A question. I needed to see if I could really piece blocks without doing the quilt as you go that I am known for. Worth a shot. I wasn't sure it was possible but at least I would be cleaning the studio a bit in the process.

Hmm--not bad. Not sure about the colors but what happens if I continue.

Okay--I play with the ideas. Get into the colors. Add some life and something unexpected to the quilt. Not bad is it? Enough for now.

There is a there there--isn't there--to paraphrase Gertrude Stein. Of course now I have to figure out how to finish this quilt. After all I am not known for my quilting. Indeed one of the reasons I love the quilt as you go is that I like keeping the designs of the fabric open--if you know what I mean.

Hmm--I will have to experiment. I have a couple of ideas--but there will be so many questions. So many little details. What design to use for the quilting? What color thread? Can I even do it? And how many other quilts can I make using this concept?

What do you think? Do you get into the zone? What do you think of machine quilting? Any great resources to share?

the color of sand

2012-01-22T08:36:00.003-05:00

Recently I read that scientists have figured out the precise color of the Milky Way and the color is--and let me quote:

"fine-grained new spring snow seen in the early morning light, about an hour after dawn"

You can read more about it on www.space.com Isn't that wonderful? So precise. Such a specific--well defined moment in time. Can't you just picture it in your mind's eye? Even add the freshness of the snow. The sparkle in the sunlight. The shimmer on the trees. Even the warmth of the sun. Amazing isn't it--how one statement--one color can evoke so much. But isn't that just what color does. Of course, as scientists are wont to do--they also come up with a more precise definition of the color--but I digress.

Instead I was thinking of color when I started my latest quilt. I knew I wanted a dreamy quilt--the ocean in the fog--when the possibilities are endless and undefined. One of those quilts I can picture in my mind's eye and so I begin. First I pin up the colors that I want--just a few fabrics. Then I start to sew. As always I tell myself to make what I know.

And that is where the questions begin. I try the first block of sand. Now I know that sand actually comes in absolutely gorgeous colors. Indeed I had just seen a magnified image of sand--so jewel like. But that wasn't what I wanted this time. Now I just wanted the sand to exist in the same dreaminess as the fog and the sky. So I got out lots of tan fabrics and made a block.

Stood back and looked. Squinted and thought. Close I thought--but not quite what I wanted. Too intense. Too yellow. This sand would dominate the quilt. Make the sky be brighter than I wanted to balance the sand.

I pulled out more fabrics. Looked in my drawers of greys and taupe. Resorted the browns and tried again. Can you see the difference?

Just a hint of the grey. Toning it down. Yes. This is more what I want.

I play with breaking it up. Still not sure if I like that. May need a few more tweaks. The teal on the right may be too bright. Not sure of that yet either. But I don't have to decide just yet. I know what I want the next row to look like.

Isn't there a wistfulness--a longing in this piece? Not sure of the colors for the next row--but I will see if I can do that today. What do you think? How do you use color? Do you ever use it to convey a feeling? What colors do you think of when you think of sand?

having fun with color

2012-01-17T10:02:00.000-05:00

I love this time of year--I always feel like there is just that bit of a new start. New colors are forecast for the year. Do I want to use it? I check out the Pantone projections of colors--always fun isn't it? You can see them Pantone Fashion Color Report here. Love Solar Power and Margarita. Not sure about the Tangerine? What do you think?

I must replenish my stock. After all, the Baltimore Craft Show is just around the corner. Yikes. So much to do. I know that I need more smaller items. I just read this great article by Bruce Baker in Craft Reports : 6 Simple Tricks to Make Money and Beat the Economy . Yes, I must make more work that people want to purchase--like duh!!

Well actually there is more to it than that. I must have enough work that people can find a place for. Get them shopping in my booth--thinking about my work in their home. Baltimore is HUGE for those who don't know the show. Hundreds and hundreds of exhibitors. Thousands of visitors. It is competitive.

Now I know I won't get a chance to make all the quilts I want. Stock is still pretty slim since Irene--UGH!! So much floated away. I still feel like I am running around just trying to keep my head above water. (Maybe not the best image to use?)
Anyhow, I decide to make a selection of my skyscrapers. Long thin pieces--great for those narrow spaces that everyone has. Also good table runners. Don't you just love this one in bright blues and greens? So happy and interesting.

What about this burgundy and soft tan? Lush and happy.

And the teal with the yellow green? Wouldn't that look great hung near the blue one?

Oh so many more colors I want to make. Maybe even have them hanging as a group in my booth. What should I do next? A purple and rust? A blue with sea foam green maybe? Blue and lavender might be lush? What about tangerine and margarita--is that too much? What do you think? How do you decide what colors to use next?

why quilts take so long

2012-01-14T07:50:00.000-05:00

Now, in my opinion good art is supposed to look inevitable. Like this was the only way this idea could be conceived and executed. Sure, the process of making it may take some time but isn't there just one resolution for any given statement. By this I don't mean that Josef Albers can't take the same concept and create many different color statements from this concept. But if he had started with one or two specific colors and wanted a specific effect, isn't there just one way of doing it?

At least that is my theory this morning. You see yesterday I spent a lot of time working on the green center for the quilt I have been working on--remember I blogged about it here:

How to do you make a quilt sing. The green in the center I felt was wrong--too yellow, clunky. Not enough of the dark green. So I got out my green fabrics again. Spent time arranging them in order.
Then stepped back and squinted. What do you think?

Lovely colors. But isn't one of the jumps too strong? Is it too brown? What if I change it like this?

Amazing isn't it, how one fabric can make such a difference. I looked at it some more. What about this area?

Again it is lovely. But I am not sure how yellow I want the piece. I switch it out.

One change. Such a different look. I fret. I pace. I do other things. Drink some coffee and even clean the studio a bit. Amazing the things I can do as I ponder. I wonder what the people on the street in Shelburne Falls think as they peer into the studio. Mad artist at work probably.

Finally I take the plunge and sew. Pin it up. Pace some more. Luckily I have my sewing machine placed so I can look at my design board as I work.

I like the feeling of going into the sky. A window. But that is this the right location? Not sure. I bring it down and look.

Somehow that seems better. Not sure yet. Maybe it is a bit too white at the bottom. How will the quilt change as I sew it together? I think I will let it sit there for a while. Make more items for the Baltimore Craft Show. See what I think about it today--maybe even tomorrow.

And you--do you believe that good art has to look inevitable? Do you wake up at 5 in the morning with "the answer". What do you think about the green?

how do you make a quilt sing?

2012-01-12T07:55:00.000-05:00

Now sometimes I know how I want the quilt to look before I start. Maybe I have sketched it out. Maybe it is a custom order. Maybe I have made a similar quilt and I just want to change the colors or the size. Now that doesn't make the quilt any easier to make--now changing one fabric changes everything. You can't swim in the same river twice, can you?

Other times though I like to just play. Start and see where it goes. Of course I do have an idea in my mind. Maybe I know the colors and the sizes. I can almost visualize the quilt. It is there--I just have to discover it. Figure out the solutions. Make it sing.

That was the case with the quilt I started a couple of weeks ago--blogged about making it--one block at a time. I do want this quilt for the Baltimore Craft Show. So I started making what I know. That is the way I have found to keep moving forward. So I made the blue blocks. A deep rich blue. Not too busy. Gradually changing color. Isn't it wonderful? And I realized I wanted an intense green yellow window. Great color, isn't it?

So I pieced a rectangle using those thin tiny strips. I can remake this piece later. I just want a guide to see what it will look like.

Not bad is it? But is this where it should be? Down at the bottom of the quilt? This time I don't even know if this is the bottom? Hmmm. Squares of green against squares of black? Is this too simple?

What if I move it up? Test out a couple of colors for the bottom. Time to make what I know--the next two rows of the top.

OK--this is coming together. What do you think?

The black seems too dark. Let's see about the teal. Should I include yellow with the teal? Or is that too much?

Yeap--too busy for this quilt. Let me try a block of teal. Interesting.

Too light--that won't hold the bottom enough. Let me try again.

Much better. Finish piecing it. Aren't the colors great?

Now to work on the green--that looks a bit clunky. A bit expected. I think I have an idea. But that is for today. We'll see. And as for the next quilts in this series--don't I have lots of other possibilities? What will I make next? And you, what do you think? Is the quilt starting to sing? Do you ever work like this or do you know what it will look like when you start?

moving forward--one block at a time

2012-01-09T08:15:00.000-05:00

Now it is not that I have been lazy during the first week of the New Year. No, I have been going into the studio every day working on orders, making potholders and placemats, pillows and purses. Work that I know will sell. Help pay for the rent of my new studio space. Keep me in my booth at the Baltimore Craft Show--yikes, that is less than two months away. February 24-26.

No, I have been working hard. Though I feel like I am standing in place. Swimming against the current.

Each morning as I wake up I think of the new quilts that I want to make. The ones that I am curious about. How will they work? How can I push my art to show something new and unknown. Work that I want to study in my studio after it is done. I know I need it. After all, I did sell capturing the sky and need a similar piece.

Something has been holding me back. It is so much easier to make a collection of potholders. I know they will work. Short, sweet and simple. A success. Am I afraid that the new quilt will not work? Am I just tired? How understandable. I have been going non-stop for the last five months after all. I did need a break--if only to make potholders.

Still I must do more. After all, I did not spend all this time and energy re-establishing my studio just to make potholders, did I? Somewhere I must find the energy to start a new quilt.

I must stop procrastinating. Regain my focus. I read on the internet a blog post on Seven Ways to Quit Procrastinating. Check it out HERE. I decide I must just take the plunge. I can see the quilt in my mind. The colors--such a solid strong blue that radiates sky and promise. Different from capturing the sky--but the next in a series. I must just start. Here goes. Make that first block--that is easy.

So lonely it looks up there, doesn't it? Just a small little statement of hope. OK--I can do it. Make a row. See what happens. Now I can make more potholders.

Nice color. Not as strong as I might want. But I must keep going. Will more blocks--another row--add to the color I want. I keep focusing on the idea. The concept of a dark sky with a few trees lit in the setting sun. I want to capture that light.

Yes, this is getting better? Feel good to just start doesn't it? Now to make another row--and another. Make what I know. Today at least one more row--maybe two more. Then add the zing. That part that I can see in my mind but I am not sure how it will work. I will have to experiment and try. Will it work? I see the next quilt already in my mind's eye. But I must finish this one first. Get this quilt to the point where it has its own momentum. Pulls me forward. Becomes the focus of my days in the studio. Where the potholders and placemats become the things I make when I need to study the quilt. Isn't that their rightful place? Then I can start the next one? Isn't that the trick to getting the energy to move forward?

What do you think? How do you get started? Where does your momentum come from? Any hints?

Should we better promote quilts as art?

2012-01-05T08:36:00.000-05:00

Let's face it--I love to browse through these glossy magazines--the ones advertising lovely decorator homes. What is the latest style and trends? Cutting edge bathroom systems. Sleek furniture. Kitchen with all the latest ovens and refrigerators. The wine coolers. The decorators who bring this all together. The builders of these homes. Don't we all love to imagine we live in them?

But then I noticed. In the bedrooms with the rich well polished furniture--the beds had comforters with simple covers on them. White down comforters. Or generic prints in bright--but not too bright--colors. With geometric flowers.The walls had paintings--simple, generic landscapes. Again you know the look.

Now--let's face it. Staging is important. There is a home about to be put on the market in my family. An architect designed home in a stunning location. The agent wants the home cleared of all the furniture and possessions. She will rent items to create just the look that potential purchasers might like. Create an atmosphere where the browsers can see themselves living there.

I'm sure that must be the same for these magazines. But certainly there must be a lot of images of fiber art on the internet--right? I go to pinterest. Now I have been on pinterest for a few months--I love it. You have to sign up for it. They approve your application. Then you create boards of lovely images that you like--gardens, the color blue, bedrooms, favorite places. Designs that inspire you. An interesting way to share and refine your style, your colors.

Yes, I found a few. But not enough. Shouldn't we as fiber artists post more images of our work in homes and offices? Isn't it important that others realize how autumn afternoon can draw you down that modern--almost sterile hallway? Add warmth to an environment seemingly lacking it?

Or what about showing that quilts are art? That prairie dawn can hold its own with any painting? Doesn't it look fabulous?
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Don't these images show that fiber is not just for country homes any more? What do you think? Are you on pinterest? Do you know of any great installation images that use fiber? How do you promote fiber art?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--Happy New Year

2012-01-03T07:36:00.003-05:00

Well--we made it to 2012. How quickly time passes, doesn't it? New England weather here--my DH and I went for a lovely long walk New Year's Day--even saw forsythia blooming. But now there is a dusting of snow and dropping temperatures. As they say, if you don't like the weather--wait a minute.

As for me--I am busy trying to finish orders and get ready for the Baltimore Craft Show in February--can you believe it is less than two months away!! Yikes. I am working on some new pieces that I am very excited about--can't wait to show them to you. I'll write more about the Craft Show next month but if you are in the Baltimore area do mark February 24-26 on your calendars. I hope to see many of you there. In March I will be doing the Paradise Marlboro Craft Show for those in the Boston area. Meanwhile, I will be in the studio most days--drop by if you are in western Massachusetts although as always I suggest calling first if you are coming from a distance.

And now for the Quilt of the Month. This is a quilt that I am surprised that I still have. Maybe it is because it is slightly smaller than some of my quilts--it is only 40 x 40 inches. Maybe it is because I enjoyed looking at it so much at the late great pink building that I did not always take it with me when I did a craft show. Maybe it is because the colors are of the more interesting, haunting nature--teals and rasberry. Soft yellows. Anyhow I still own it and for the next 10 days or until sold my quilt "out of the mist" will be the Quilt of the Month. This quilt was $800--as I said, I have had it for a while--but as Quilt of the Month it will be $600 plus shipping and applicable taxes. Here is its snapshot--it is just a bit less green than this image suggests. More of a teal, turquoise. But there is a softness to the colors.

It is SOLD already.

Have a great January.

looking forward not backward

2011-12-30T07:42:00.000-05:00

OK--it is December 30. The radio is busy summarizing the highlights of the year--actors we lost, best songs, controversies that weren't. You know the gist of it--they do it every year--just the details are different. That's what people do at this time isn't it? Auld lang syne--singing in the new year with memories of the old.

Not me. Not this year. Sure there were good things in 2011. I started working with very thin strips of fabric. I loved the concept when I began last winter and I still love it now, don't you? The wall hangings that have that splash of intense color.

The smaller pieces--the eyeglass cases, the purses, the wall hangings--that just have the power of those tiny strips. Love them all. Hard to keep them in stock actually, I guess that's what you call high class worries, isn't it?

Of course, there was Tonks. I must remember that I got her this year. What a sweetheart.

I can't forget how wonderful my DH was. What a hero. Working tirelessly to help me after my studio floated. And speaking of help--I must also say how amazing my friends, the community of Shelburne Falls, other quilt makers and the crafts people and artists and my customers are. The most generous, kind, giving group of friends anyone could possibly have. I just can't thank you all enough. Amazing how people show there true nature in such times.

You see, I am avoiding talking about the obvious. My friend John Sendelbach published pictures of Irene in his blog if you want to see them HERE. He has got the videos posted there too. I looked at them yesterday--or was it the day before--I have met people who saw the images when they were in France. South East Asia. Australia. Not what I need to see again thanks. I loved that building. I didn't need to get my 15 minutes of fame like that. Nope. Thank you. Enough.

So that is why I am thumbing my nose at 2011. No farewell for me. Think of that word--fare well. Nope. Not this time. It is good bye, good riddance. Don't forget to shut the door on the way out. Can't wait to see the end of you. As for me, my DH and I are going out on New Year's Eve to celebrate the arrival of 2012. Remember I have the walnut table in my studio--that is where I come from. You can read about it HERE. We will raise a glass to 2012. Cheer. Celebrate the dawn. It has to be better, doesn't it?

And you--how do you plan to celebrate 2012? What will you remember about 2011?

the turning of the seasons

2011-12-22T08:24:00.000-05:00

Today is officially the first day of winter. The solstice occurred at 12:30 am this morning--that mysterious time of year when the earth seems to slow down and dark prevails. Soon the days will get longer until finally the longer days will lead to spring and the return of warmth. Already, thanks to some strange rotations of the earth, the sun is setting a couple minutes later in the afternoon--don't ask me to explain, I just know it is (and if you are really curious you can read more about it HERE.)

For me, it is time to stop concentrating on eyeglass cases and potholders and think of new designs. My sketchbook is full of ideas. Directions to pursue.The Baltimore Craft Show is only eight weeks away--YIKES!!!

But first, I must finish orders. The ones I took at the craft shows--the ones the customers did not need until January. Free my slate so to speak. First, the big one I saved especially for this time of year. A smaller version of endless fields.

Now maybe you remember this quilt--the wonderful lush colors of the fields changing and stretching into the horizon. How simple and complex this quilt is. How rich these colors are. I made it last year. Love the quilt. Love the design. I even made it in more greys and browns as you may remember.

This time, I have an order to make it smaller--single bed size. The color progressions will have to occur more quickly. The fabric selection must be just right. There is no room for error.

I spend months shopping for just the right colors. Replacing the burgundies and greens, the reds and rusts that I need to make the quilt sparkle. I make a special trip to get enough wonderful blacks--some with a bit of pizazz so it is not just a solid band of black. New blacks with spirals and leaves. Black blues and black greens.

I study the quilt--trying to absorb the colors and movements. I make more placemats, purses. Yes I am procrastinating. Winding up for the large project. Wind up. Take a deep breath. Try to overcome my fear. The customer is kind and patient but this is the time to begin. Now as many of my readers know, my studio in Shelburne Falls is open to the public. I like it this way since I never know who may drop in. What may happen.

But that also means that during this time of anxious anticipation--as I await the holidays--I am in the studio working. So much to do. A meal to prepare. Gifts to wrap--will the step children--such wonderful young adults--like their gifts? What tales will they have to tell. What about my DH--he has been so wonderful this year--I can't thank him enough. I didn't even do Christmas cards this year--I hope everyone understands. Will I get to see my young friend who told me that she had been in Hollywood too long--unless a movie is a blockbuster, it is just another film.

I know myself--making this quilt will anchor me. The slow steady progress of a large piece. One block at a time. Until the quilt finally takes off. Assumes its own life and propels me forward. So I make the first block. How lonely it looks on that board by itself, doesn't it?

Am I moving in the right direction? Are the colors right? Will it work? Amazing how a few more blocks create a pattern. The light is faded in the image but the design shows through.

Do I need to make the colors change more quickly? Are the greens getting light enough? The burgundies the right shade? So much to think about as the light returns. As I check off one more order from my to-do list. As I welcome the visitors to my new studio.

And you--what do you do as the seasons change? How do you prepare for the New Year? How do you schedule those large works? When do you notice the days getting longer?

can a quilt be too thin and too purple?

2011-12-16T08:06:00.000-05:00

Now I must admit I tried very hard not to express my fears as I kept discussing the order with my customers. Sure I agreed with them that the color and design of red sky were wonderful.

It would be easy to make a quilt half as wide. Keep the sunrise--or is it a sunset. That would be fun. But--that was not what the customers wanted. No, they wanted the quilt one panel wide and long--64 inches long. And they didn't want the light colors up at the top. Just colors as dark as possible. With a hint of the sun. One panel of the ocean at the very bottom of the quilt. And they wanted it before the holidays. Sigh!!

Of course I smiled sweetly. After all, they had ordered from me before--twice. And I could certainly understand why they wanted it before the holidays--their daughter was coming home. She lives across the country and of course they wanted to show off the new quilt to her.

But quite frankly this has been a very exhausting year--as I am sure you can understand. Even if my studio had not floated down the river, it would be hard to have enough different colors of purple and blue to create an interesting piece. Now--with a reduced fabric selection, the challenge would be even greater. Would the quilt be too dull? Too thin? Too dark? Where would the story come from?

As you can tell, I was more than a bit wary of this project. Sigh!! Where would I find the energy to work on this piece that might not even succeed--no matter how hard I tried. Well, there was nothing to do but take a deep breath and start to cut the fabric. I made the first blocks. Added some dark grey to create interest. And kept piecing. Hmm.

The first effort looked great--but not as warm as red sky. OK--add some navy and blue. I have just time to remake the quilt. See if that is closer to the initial design. Put up a test piece of the yellow sun.

Yes, this is working. Will it look better when I sew it together? More polished and complete?

Yes, this is a quilt. Not bad. I see lots of possibilities. Maybe I should make several. Hang them in an arrangement. Oh, don't you love it when a custom order points to new directions? New ideas?

What other colors can I use? What other designs? Should they be the same length--or different? Change the colors? Sold in groups or individually? How to display them? Can I get a few ready for the Baltimore Show in February? Or is this an idea that I should not pursue? What do you think?

the walnut table

2011-12-09T07:50:00.000-05:00

Now of course I never met her--she was before my time--although I have seen pictures. She was a stolid, solid woman of uncertain age that you did not mess with. I knew her house quite well. It was a modest two story wood frame house painted yellow. You have been there and can imagine what it looked like. Downstairs was the obligatory parlor separated by a sliding wooden door, living room and large country kitchen. That is where the walnut table with the many leaves reigned supreme. Upstairs were where the bedrooms were supposed to be.

That changed though after first her infant son and then her quiet kind husband died suddenly leaving her with two young daughters to raise and of course the house. Her options were not great back then--move in with relatives and become a second class citizen, remarry to an uncertain future. The poor house--yes there really was such a place just outside town--was not even considered.She would not give up her children.

She chose to take in boarders. Moved her two daughters down into the parlor and rented the upstairs to single men working in town hunting for a clean room, solid hearty food two or three times a day on that same walnut table. For extra money she did their wash and ironing--spread newspapers on the table and heated those big flat irons on her cook stove. That much I know for sure--the table bears the imprint of the newspapers.

Somehow she scraped together enough money to buy a piano for the living room--maybe it was there already. Give her daughters piano lessons--that was what young ladies did in those days. Her daughters were to study not help with the boarders. They were going to be prepared for life. After graduating from high school, the older--my Aunt Jo--went to nursing school--became the first public health nurse in the county. Although she never married, she did know love--but that is another story (and a good one, I might add.) She lived in that yellow house until she died. Sleeping in that same parlor that became a bedroom. Eating at the same table covered in oil cloth. Doting on her nephew--my Dad. You see this is a very personal story.

I have written about the younger one before. You can read about her quilts HERE. She was my grandmother. The one who made quilts. She was sent to the Teacher's College. Oh how she hated boarding out with the farm families in the south part of the County. She quickly married a handsome young farmer who said little and came to resent his silence. But she had my father and her quilts. Her degree--the training served her well when she had to go to work in the local school system to save the farm during the Depression.

And I always knew that this walnut table would be mine some day. But first after Aunt Jo died, it was in my parents' kitchen. They replaced the oak table that was almost a carbon copy with the walnut table full of memories. Always covered in oil cloth. Then when they died, it was shipped to my home in Massachusetts where it was of course covered with more oil cloth and placed on the porch for our summer meals. How glad I was to have it.

Then after I lost my studio and got settled in my new space I realized I needed furniture. I thought of the walnut table just sitting there unused for half the year. Sure it was a bit beaten with age. One leg is cracked. There are a few dings and scars. I had forgotten the memories of this table, the stories that are a part of the fabric of my life. But don't I need it right now? We can find another table for our porch for a while.

It was heavier than I remember. I rubbed furniture polish on its smooth surface. No oil cloth this time. Did my great grandfather the carpenter make it? I don't think so. My sister has the baby cradle that he made. The table looks to be of a standard design. I have looked for his initials but I don't think that matters anyway. There it sits in my new space. Proudly showing the newspaper print which some day I must try to read. Proudly sharing its stories. Reassuring me that I come from a long line of survivors--don't we all? That we all have stories that help make us who we are, don't you think?

And you--what stories do you have to tell? How do you tell them? And if you are in Shelburne Falls, I do hope you will come into my new studio and see the table. It does look pretty good there doesn't it?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--cyber Monday edition

2011-11-28T09:00:00.000-05:00

Dear all,

Wow--is time flying even though the weather is trying to hold onto the lovely warmth of late autumn. This morning the sky was full of those wonderful peaches and brilliant reds of the dawn. Then the clouds came, and a gentle wind from the south. the temperature was up to 56 at 8 am. Yes, I just had to go for a walk in the woods. Indeed, it was all I could do to turn around and come home. But I must get to the studio. After all, I do have not one but two craft shows left this season.

First is the Washington Craft Show at the DC Convention Center, December 2-4. It is such an honor to be in this show--there are 190 of the very best fine craft artists in country in one location. Each booth is full of breathtaking, exquisite work. I do hope you will check it out for yourself--more information can be found at http://www.craftsamericashows.com Then the next week-end is CraftBoston at the Cycloramo. If you have never been to the Cycloramo, you are in for a treat. The building is a circular extravaganza with wonderful architectural details. Inside the show is so colorful and alive. I do hope you will check it out if you are in the area. http://www.craftboston.org

In between and after I return I will be working in my new studio. What a delightful time this is to step backward into the charm of Shelburne Falls. The colored lights on the Bridge of Flowers reflect onto the river. The light poles are wound with wreaths. I even saw a lighted tree floating on the river. Personally I find the charm of the village matches the feeling of hope and light that we all need this time of year.

Meanwhile I have decided to post the quilt of the month early this year. I actually do love this quilt--the colors are bright and rich. The size--40 x 56 inches would look great hanging over a sofa, buffet table or even a bed. Indeed it was hard to convince myself that this should be the quilt of the month. However, neither my new studio nor my booth have a lot of wall space and so I don't usually get a chance to show it. The colors are brighter than my snapshot of it--I can try to send you a better image if you would like. Anyhow, this quilt began at $1100 but until December 10 or until it is sold, the quilt will be $800 plus shipping and applicable taxes. As usual, this quilt it one of a kind and will be available on a first come/first serve basis.

For those hunting for smaller items, I do have a few posted on my website--HERE http://www.annbrauer.com/Ann_Brauer_Quilt_Studio/Small_works.html. Many other colors are available--please do not hesitate to contact me with any questions. Alas, I did not get a chance to set up a shop within my website just yet. Maybe next year...

Thanks again and have a great holiday season.

don't stop thinking about tomorrow

2011-11-25T08:02:00.000-05:00

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my abstract landscapes "painted" with wedges of fabric. The freedom of the piecing. The controlled exuberance of the colors. The endless quests for the horizons. But--and this is the big but in this post--on my drive OUT to Evanston last August I spent some of my time as I drove past endless cornfields thinking about the new quilts I wanted to make with the very thin strips of fabric. The ones that would have even more of the pop of the sun in capturing the sky. You must remember this quilt.

The power of the thin pieces in the sun. The sophistication and intensity of that square of purples and lavenders and magentas.

The same power of detail in the eyeglass cases.

I wanted to make whole quilts based on these colors. This effect. Can you imagine that? Indeed I had experimented last winter with a larger piece based on this concept. Days of working on a concept. Teaching myself how to do this.

Of course--sigh--as my loyal readers know--on the drive BACK from Evanston I had other things to think about. So I did what I had to do. Got the studio more or less in order. Made the eyeglass cases that I know will sell. And practiced working in the new space making quilts that had a bit of familiarity to them. Meanwhile thinking of the samples I had made that floated downstream because of Irene.

Still though--in the brief lulls, the early morning hours of the Paradise City Arts Festival last week-end I realized that I wanted to move forward. Indeed I needed to push myself more. After all, I hadn't gone through all of the hard work and emotion of re-establishing my studio just to make eyeglass cases. No matter how lovely they are. Besides I had sold my quilt mist on the ocean.

So I decided I just had to start a new quilt with the thin strips. Now I hope I will get it done before the Washington Craft Show next week-end. But even if I don't, there will be CraftBoston or the Baltimore Craft Show in February. Certainly I can show it in my new studio. Besides, I want to see what it looks like.

How tiny it looks at first. How long it takes to do the piecing. Is this the best use of my time, I worry again? After all, I do need money to buy more fabric. I do have orders to fill. Isn't this the time to make those eyeglass cases and potholders? Now is the season to sell, after all. In January shoppers hibernate and I do need money to pay rent these days.

Still I persevere. I think of my father-in-law--now confined to a wheel chair and requiring constant assistance--he still dreams of cross-country skiing this winter. Sailing on the open ocean. Thinking about tomorrow. And yes, that song runs through my mind as I start piecing this new quilt. How slowly it grows. Each strip an effort to figure out which fabric works. How tiny the quilt looks. Fragile and tentative right now.

The new quilt may not be as large as I want--this time. I will have to juggle the smaller items with the new quilt. But it feels right and I can't wait to see what it will look like. After all, this is who I am and what I do. And I need to think about tomorrow. So I admire the progress and keep cutting and sewing.

And you--do you think about tomorrow? How do you do it? How do you balance the dreams, the vision with the reality of day to day life? And will you be in Shelburne Falls for Moonlight Magic this year? Will you get to see the new quilt? What do you think?

a brief history of a quilt

2011-11-22T08:40:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it is the little things that matter most in making a quilt. A few weeks ago I had in my mind's eye a quilt similar to gentle dawn. But with more of a horizon. And the sun--I wanted the sun to have just risen with the reds and oranges, the yellows and pinks streaking across the sky. A joyful dawn.

Now those who follow my work know that I have a constant fascination with the sky, the horizon, the promise of the dawn. Just look at prairie dawn. A quilt from a few years ago.

Or prairie sky. Another piece from a couple years ago.

I wanted it similar. After all, I am still getting used to my new studio. One day at a time. One step at a time. But still I wanted to use the knowledge that I have gained since making these pieces. What can I now add? How can I say more? Some days as it is I feel like I am just treading water. It is not that I am not trying--there are so many quilts that I see just beyond my grasp. But there is only so much I can do. Besides, I love these colors and these quilts. I love working with the rich blues and purples of the sky. The reds of the sun. So why not?

Of course I begin by piecing what I know. The gradually changing colors of blues and lavenders. Pinks and yellows. How happy and cheerful on my design board. Pin up a piece of red to see what it will look like.

Not bad. But it lacks the zing of the color changes I want to add. Let's see what happens.

OK--still seems a bit stilted though, doesn't it? Shouldn't I use more oranges? Magentas? Where is the pop? Let me play with the colors. Cut lots of strips of fabric. Lay them out on the table.

Better. But should I take even more risks?

Yes, that marble looking fabric does help--doesn't it? Not sure who donated it to me--but thank you so much. Amazing how much one fabric can add to the quilt. I play a bit more and piece. How does it look?

Not bad--but could it be even better. Step up the yellow a bit more. Take more risks. I take out a few rows. Try again. Gotta love my seam ripper.

Yes, isn't this what I want? Doesn't it sing? It always feels like such a risk to begin sewing it together.

But yes, I like that effect. Enough yellows and golds to make it pop. Not so bright it feels garish. Now, I can't wait to show it at the Washington Craft Show December 2-4--check it out at http://craftsamericashows.com/WASH_main.htm

What do you think? How much do your quilts change as you play with them? How do you move forward?

what is the deal with horizons?

2011-11-12T08:13:00.000-05:00

Recently I have been thinking a lot about horizons--you know--that division between the earth and the sky. That line that stretches across the fields. Offering that promise of something. Is it the promise or the journey? After all, the more you walk to the horizon, the further it recedes.

Am I longing for the views from my late great studio? The expanse of sky and the distant everchanging mountain. The new studio offers instead hints of the clouds in the west rolling in and the endless promise of the trains carrying such power and industry. Amazing the difference a block or two can make, isn't it?

Or is it the order I have? The one for the quilt where they don't want that distinct line of the sky. A gentle horizon. Dreamy and subtle. More teal than this piece. But a good start.

Not sure why but I do have horizons on the mind. Interesting word. I check the etymology--of course it is from the Greek, via Latin and then French. Actually it is an abbreviation for the boundless circle of the open ocean. After all, the Greeks did know their geometry. If you were in a boat on the ocean and looked all around, from above this would form a circle. Think about it. Chaucer was apparently the first recorded usage in English. The question was whether the "h" should be used though apparently it was not pronounced at the time. The French don't use "h" very frequently.
You can read more about it here.

I had a class from the Academy in Charlemont visit my studio this week. What fun. Great smart kids asking a lot of good questions. Things that I don't normally think about. One of my favorite was whether my landscapes are inspired by a specific scene. No, I said they are a feeling. A sense of time and place that I am trying to achieve. Each quilt leads me to the next. It is a journey--almost like a horizon. The more I work, the more ideas I get. Searching for something I can never attain. But isn't the process in the searching? Isn't that what life is?

And so I start another quilt. Another experiment in horizons. This will be similar but different. I do have more teals. It will be dreamy. Just look at these colors. The first block says a lot. Sets the tone for the quilt.

I want to feel the ocean. The movement of the waves. Then the whole row. Is this right? Or too stark?

I put just a strip of yellow there--can you see it? Yes, this looks better doesn't it? Sometimes it is the little things that matter.

So I keep piecing. Slowly. Adding the colors. More teal. More dreamy colors. I must be patient.

And the sun. I want a red sun hanging just risen. Floating above the sky. That will come later though. After I finish piecing the quilt. And already I think of the next piece. How to give the effect of the open ocean. Turning. The full circle. I do love it when one quilt inspires the next and the next.

And you--do you think of horizons? Is it the journey or the place? And what inspires you to make the next piece? What do you think?

the colors of november

2011-11-07T08:38:00.000-05:00

Ah November. The maples and birch have lost their leaves. The sky is now a wistful shade of blue. The bright flowers of summer are gone. The light is at that great angle where everything is more pronounced. And--yes--the October snow has melted--but that is another story. Instead it is the time to watch, to wait, to observe the splendors of this season.

In the distance, Massamont is soft in shades of brown and gold protecting the village of Shelburne Falls that I love so dearly. While the Bridge of Flowers is officially closed for the season, on bright sunny days it is still open. A good time to stroll, to look at the wonderful complex colors of November. So brilliant and subtle. So unexpected. Just look at these leaves--so many colors of red.

The many browns of the hydrangea. Yes, this is how it looks--so many shapes and textures.

The surprise purples and mauves.

Tiny purple berries. Each so precious. Like gems.

The shapes. The movements of the yuccas and kale.

Oh there is so much more I could capture. So much more to observe. The carefully selected stones. The bending shapes of the vines. Berries against the blue of the river.

But instead I must head to my new studio. Use my inspiration to choose fabrics for a new quilt. After all, soon the light will be even darker. It will be the time of fire and light and the crisp night stars. Although maybe tomorrow again I will walk across the Bridge again. I mean shouldn't one enjoy these colors while we still have them?

What do you think? Do the colors of November inspire you? What have you seen?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--Snowvember edition

2011-11-01T08:20:00.000-04:00

Wow--it is November 1 already. That is 11/1/11 if you write the abbreviation. How quickly time is flying. Yes, we did get 24 inches of that white stuff during the Snowtember storm although luckily it is melting and we did not lose power. About time Shelburne Falls caught a break if you know what I mean.

Thanks to everyone who has been so generous. I have been busy working in the studio most days trying to get ready for the Holiday season. Gradually I am beginning to fill my studio with new quilts, table runners, eyeglass cases and potholders for the holiday season--can you believe that it is almost upon us? This Saturday November 5 I will be participating for the first time in the Shelburne Falls Gallery walk--Art under the Stars which runs from 5 until 8 pm. Please--if you are in town, drop by and see my new space. I usually do not like to stay open late so would welcome encouragement to be there.

I will also be doing the Paradise City Arts Festival in Marlborough, MA on November 18-20. I do love this show--there is always something new and absolutely wonderful to admire. The music is good and the atmosphere is so much fun. For more information and discounted tickets check out their web site http://www.paradisecityarts.com In December I will be doing the Washington Craft Show Dec 2-4 and CraftBoston at the Cyclorama on Dec 8-10. What was I thinking? More on these shows in my post next month.

Meanwhile Shelburne Falls is basically up and running. Several more businesses have re-opened. Most roads including Route 2 coming from the East are open and from Williamstown and the West the route is only slightly longer and even lovelier. I will be there most days--although call first as I do still have errands to run.

And now for the news you have been waiting for so patiently--the Quilt of the Month is back!!!! After all, this is November and this is the perfect quilt for this month. November oak. I love the colors of the piece--the greys and mauves of the fields after most of the leaves have gone against the rusts and browns of the oak trees. The quilt is about 45 x 45 inches and began life at $1200. It has Velcro stitched on the back for hanging. I am offering for $700 plus shipping and applicable taxes. As usual this is a first come first served offer which will automatically end on November 10 so if you want it do send me an e-mail. For those seeking gift items, I will post images of potholders and eyeglass cases on my web site in the next couple of days in case you want to order a few--just contact me.

Have a great month. Thanks again.

Ann Brauer
6 Bridge Street
Shelburne Falls, MA 01370

413 625-8605

Web: http://www.annbrauer.com

email: ann@annbrauer.com

It's Snowtober

2011-10-30T10:02:00.000-04:00

Sometimes life forces you to rethink your normal patterns, in case you haven't noticed. Now usually I don't use much white in my work. Not sure why. Don't really like that stark contrast of color and white. For whatever reason. But maybe I should. After all, the snow against the colors of the leaves is just magnificent. Yes, as you may know--it is Snowtober. 24 inches of snow. In October!!! Yes, you heard me right. 24 inches of snow in October. It is still too early to even get the studded snow tires on my van. Ugh!!! I am stuck at home on the mountain.

We were lucky--our snow was fairly light and fluffy--there are advantages to living on top of a mountain even though it was a challenge getting up here yesterday afternoon. We have a wood stove, lots of dry wood and a delicious pot of chili in the frig. Yes, I feel sorry for those without power--ugh--some may not get it back for days. But still--time to go for a snow shoe.

How gorgeous to see the colors of the leaves through the trees.

And up closer it gets even better.

What an assortment of colors. Look how intense the reds of the oak are against the snow.

Aren't they fantastic? And the beech beckoning us down the driveway. A light of sunshine isn't it?

So much to see and absorb. How to use white and grey without it seeming forced. How to make it seem universal--after Snowtober is the most snow ever in October. Or maybe the most snow since 1804 in October.

Something to think about as I ponder the storm--maybe even go outside and think more about the colors. And you--how are you surviving Snowtober? How do you use whites and greys in your work? What do you think?

musings on what is modern?

2011-10-25T07:31:00.000-04:00

This week-end a couple of ladies came in to my studio. One loved my work. The other said she "loved" my work--maybe she was just trying to be polite because she then added that famous word but..alas..her house was "Modern". Oh I am sure you have heard this conversation before.

Now obviously this woman was not going to purchase. She was just coming up with one of those excuses. Understandable--don't we all do it every day. But it did get me to thinking--what is modern? Why are my quilts considered not good in modern locations? Yes, I've heard this conversation before. But after all, my quilts are contemporary abstract landscapes and even a Modern home does require an attention to detail, style and color no matter how much metal and stone you use, doesn't it?

I mean just look at this wall hanging--first light--in its very simple setting. Doesn't it make the room?

Or consider colors of my garden in a very modern office building--drawing you down the corridor and echoing the colors of the steel.

Or light on the ocean in the same building?

Isn't even this version of dawn on the hill modern even if it is set in a more "country" style room?

So what is modern? Recently there was a fascinating discussion on Interior Designer Chat as to what is "modern". Obviously the meaning can vary with when you are asking the question. For instance, at one time the style of Louis Quattorze was considered modern if you know what I mean. So was the Victorian style, Art Deco--I could go on. Remember "everything's up to date in Kansas City". But modern can also refer to a specific design period--mid to late 20th century. Lots of metal and steel. Glass. Simplicity in design. Not cluttered. You know the look.

So wouldn't quilts work in a modern home--especially my quilts? I got to thinking. Certainly modern can include works with patterns and textures--just think of Jackson Pollock. Can't really get more patterned than that can you? Quilts can be considered modern--think of the traditional Amish quilts--don't they look great in a modern setting? What about the quilts of Gee's Bend? The wonderful complex patterns and designs are modern, aren't they?

Maybe the issue is that I love to use commercially available quilting fabrics with all the associations they include. Is that the reason? But the quilts of Gee's Bend also can include fabric with design. Andy Warhol's Campbell soup cans include references to commercial patterns. Maybe they don't stop and think of the references to traditional fabric in my quilts.

Certainly I have had designers say that my work is "too busy" for them. Now up close there is a business to it--but not from a distance. Maybe the issue is presentation. Maybe it is just a matter of taste. Or what is considered stylish by others? Maybe I should write something profound about the associations that my quilts have to the quilts of tradition. Or maybe it doesn't even matter--just something to muse about in the slack hours of the day? After all I really don't want to sell my quilts to those who don't truly love them.

What do you think? How do you define modern? Does it even matter?

Or maybe the issue is that woman really just did not like my work

enough already

2011-10-17T20:15:00.000-04:00

No wonder I haven't posted for a while This morning I read this notice at my local post office.

Yes, that is a lot of rain. More than a yard of water. Almost an entire year's worth of rain. Oh, don't I wish I could send some of it down to Texas--at least five or ten inches. After all, Texas does not need to become a desert. And quite frankly we have had enough rain for a while. As a friend says, I have earned my right to complain about the weather even if I can't do anything about it.

And it is not just the rain. It is the endless potholders and eyeglass cases. So marketable. But do I ever have enough? Can I catch up? Isn't there more to life than this?

The clueless comments of the relatives. Trying so hard to be kind but just not understanding how huge the loss of my studio is. Why do we always expect more of them? Isn't that the problem?

Today the sun actually shone. I worked in my garden before work cutting back plants for the winter. Load after load of leaves onto the compost pile. Take that and that--incessant rainfall. Take that oh thoughtless relative. I think of the words of a new friend who lost her home to a fire a few years ago. I think I remember reading about it. Gave me great advice. Don't do everything at once Ann, she said. One day at a time. Surround yourself with those who do understand you. Your friends, your community, the unbelievable generosity of quiltmakers and artists, craftspeople and customers. These are the people to relate to. Their kindness keeps me on track.

And I tell myself I must make quilts. Not just the potholders and placemats, the table runners and eyeglass cases that sell out of my studio. But also the wall hangings and art quilts that enchant me. The ones I have to make. And so I start a new quilt. One based on the colors of autumn I can see on the Bridge of Flowers. Celebrating the blue sky and glorious colors. The greens and the rusts. The browns and even the blues. Don't you just love this picture? It has been haunting me even before I took it. This is not a quilt I need to make for an order but one I want to make. You must know the difference?

Slowly at first I start. One row like this:

Then another. Sketching out the next row. The rusts. So slowly it goes. Despite all the generosity my fabric stash is slim. I must search for that one piece that will hold it together.

But I can feel it coming together. I can see the outline in my mind's eye. And on Wednesday I can add more to it until it creates the quilt that I know it wants to become. This is why I do it. And you, what motivates you? What keeps you going? How do you squeeze in the art you want to do?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--still standing edition

2011-10-03T07:48:00.000-04:00

What a whirlwind of activity the last month has been. As you may remember my beloved studio at 2 Conway Street floated down the Deerfield River while I was doing the American Craft Exposition in Evanston, IL at the end of August. Fortunately I had my best quilts and my craft fair display with me. The building floated and then got held up by two maple trees just before it would have gone into the River--my DH managed to rescue my sewing machine, the two quilts my grandmother made and some items stored up high. Most of the quilts in the building, much of the stash and supplies and many of the furnishings were lost--sigh--but it could have been worse.

No, I did not have flood insurance--why should I?--the home nearest my studio had been standing for over 160 years. Unfortunately the water pressure at the Harriman Reservoir built up to the point where the utility company had to release water from the flood gates or risk having the entire reservoir go. Certainly if they had not had to do this release my lovely building would still be standing. Could they have drawn down the water level more before Irene? Could they have provided sufficient notice that this was even a possibility so more could have been save? Questions that haunt me in the wee hours of the morning. And no, FEMA does not help small businesses.

Meanwhile so many people and organizations have been so kind. I can't thank them enough--although I try. CERF+ has been truly outstanding. I must also give shout outs to the Mary Lyon Foundation, the Shelburne Falls Area Business Association and A Notion to Quilt. There have been donations of time and money from friends and even strangers--all much appreciated, quiltmakers who managed to give me priced donations of stash--usually managing to choose just the right fabric I needed for the particular project, customers who made purchases to help me, suppliers who waced fees and of course my wonderful DH who has born more than his fair share of helping me deal with these events. Oh so many people--I appreciate each and every thing that has been done. I could go on--but if you want to follow my progress more--I usually post about it on my Facebook Page--
http://www.facebook.com/AnnBrauerQuiltStudio

My studio is now usually open at 6 Bridge Street in Shelburne Falls--just across the river from where the darling pink building was. This week-end I will be at the Paradise City Arts Festival in Northampton, MA. I love this show--there is so much wonderful work there, as well as great food and music as well as plenty of free parking. Have you ever visited it? Definitely worth a trip or a visit while you look at the leaves changing into their autumn splendor. I am Booth 837. Do stop by. For further information or discounted tickets--their web site is http://www.paradisecityarts.com Note--when I do a craft show, the studio is closed.

Meanwhile I still cannot do a quilt of the month--I hope you will understand--but I did want to share an image of a new quilt I just finished that does show reflections of Irene. I call it "above the river". What do you think?

but do I have enough fabric?

2011-09-29T08:42:00.000-04:00

OK--I finally decided I must make a new wall hanging. Not just a small square but a mid-size one. Sort of like the ones I used to make. Back in the good old days before Irene. When my quilts were selling well and I had plenty of stash. Just a month or so ago as you may remember. Sigh!! How life can change.

After all, I do need to have quilts to sell and I did lose about half my quilts, much of my stash and my darling building thanks to Irene. GRRR!!! Sometimes though the only way out is through. Luckily I will be doing the Paradise City Northampton show in a few days--hope to see many of you there.

So I told myself a few days ago I must start. I will make a quilt that I have made before. A few tweaks here and there of course. I never make the same quilt twice after all. But I don't want to reinvent everything at once. I know it will be hard enough to work in the new space. Figure out which fabrics I have. Ease myself gradually into the process.

Why not a variation on desert hills? Nice quilt isn't it? Some of the greys that I have been working with. I think I have a few golden browns. Not sure about the darker colors--but A Notion to Quilt has been very generous and they are just up the road from me.

But will I have enough fabric? After all each block requires 10 or is it 12 different fabrics--all related in color and progressive. Not just any grey will do. A grey with mauve is so different from a grey with green or rust. Each block must be different--although I do allow myself to use the same fabric more than once. And each row is a different color combination so this means a lots of different fabrics. I can't overthink it though so I start.

Hmmm. Not bad. I look at it for a day and add another row. Let's see what happens.

Yes, there is a color here. Definitely some variation but not bad. I don't think I will add another row of even darker down at the bottom. Instead some pale yellows and tans. Let's see what happens.

Is the sunshine too bright? Can I find the colors for three more rows of golden brown--not too bright?
I don't want to overwhelm the grey. I am thinking about a bit of the thin piecing in the center. Maybe. Luckily I just received a lovely package of stash from a quiltmaker in Washington State--what lovely browns she included. Just what I needed.

Hopefully today I can add another row. How nice it feels to be working again. What do you think? How do you start working again? Will I see you at the Paradise City Show? Or my new studio?

thoughts on kindness and color

2011-09-26T07:45:00.000-04:00

I wake up at four in the morning--sometimes five if I'm lucky these days. My mind is reeling with so much to do. Tasks everywhere. Plans. Ideas. Each seems to take twice as long as before. There is a definite order that must be followed. A process. The back room is cluttered with boxes. The box from the new open flag must be broken down. Boxes from my track lights. I can't put them in my van--it goes into the service station again. Will they have the time today to fix the check engine light--this will be the third time I have taken it in. Normally no big deal--but right now just added hassle that I don't need. Then the inspection station. Ugh again!!! Then I can put the boxes in the back. See what I mean.

To send out the order of pillows I must open the carton. Stuff the pillows. Find a box. The packing tape. The address. Things that I used to do automatically now require careful thought.

Where is my seam ripper? I think I have seen it. It used to be on my counter top--right there. When will it resurface? For now I can use scissors--it will reappear. I must make order out of chaos. One day at a time. One project done every day. One day at a time.

Today a friend comes to help. She can do some of those tasks that hang over my head. How nice it will be not to worry about those things again. How kind of her to help. How lucky I am.

Then I must make more quilts. After all, I do have a craft show in a couple of weeks. The Paradise Northampton Show--love doing that fair. So much great work there. A crowd that is enjoying themselves. Will you be there? Delicious food. Great music. Great art and crafts. I must have enough potholders. A selection of placemats and eyeglass cases. I know these will sell.

A new friend had sent me a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye probably the best known Arab-American poet. Have you heard of her? I hadn't. Wonderful work. So sure of herself and pictorial. She tells a story. The poem I received is called "Kindness". The gist of the poem is that only after you have been knocked down to the depths by life, lost everything and seen the loss of all--only then can you know that what is left after such loss is kindness. Just read these words.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

She concludes that only after the sorry can you know kindness--let me quote some more.

only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere

like a shadow or a friend.

Isn't it wonderful. It is worth it to check her out more. Here is a link to a short poem she read at Earlham College in Indiana. Great isn't she?

Yes, kindness is left and will sustain me. So many people. So kind. But for me also there is more. There is color. This is what I do. This is what propels me further. I must make more squares with the colors of autumn. What do you think?

This is part of what I dream of at four in the morning. This is part of why there are still boxes in the back room. This is what keeps me sane.

And you--what do you do when life overwhelms you? What are your tricks? The things you tell yourself? And kindness--what are your thoughts there.

Mud season

2011-09-21T19:54:00.000-04:00

Oh no--no matter how nice everyone has been--and people have been very very kind. Businesses and friends have gone out of their way for me in ways I dare not expect and can't but appreciate and cherish. Still no matter how hard I try to accept it--and I do try very very hard--there is a part of me that is screaming inside--"NO!" "Let me wake up from this nightmare. This is really not happening to me. Tomorrow I can go back to my happy contented life at 2 Conway Street and create the quilts of my dreams."

OK--I know that is not going to happen. I know I should be so grateful. And indeed I am. After all, I lost my studio--my home away from home--but not my home. More importantly I did not lose any one near and dear to me. That would have been unimaginable. And I don't want to seem unthankful for all those who have been so kind to me. This is just a passing moment and I do appreciate and cherish your lovely and gracious actions--please do not get me wrong.

I did have my best quilts with me and within me. I can rebuild. Maybe even making better quilts or a better career. I have an absolutely wonderful husband who will do anything he can for me. I have great friends. A great community both in Shelburne Falls and in the general art/quilt community.

I know deep in my heart that I was/am very very lucky. Yet sometimes I cry. I scream with rage. I hope to wake up. I hope this is not wrong. I hope this is just normal.

Meanwhile I try to make quilts that contain the mud. Maybe it is too soon. Maybe I need to make quilts about rebirth. Dawn. Maybe a complex quilt will contain my feelings. Not sure. I will try a new quilt tomorrow--see if that tames the anguish inside me.

For now though this is my first quilt of the mud season. I hope you will bear with me as I try to sort through this random act of whatever.

What do you think? How do you cope? Is working through mud the answer or should I go to dawn? How do you use the rage against the night?

the colors of mud

2011-09-17T08:39:00.000-04:00

I wake up early one morning this week--now that is not surprising. I have been doing that a lot recently--3 or 4 am--if I am lucky I sleep until 5. Thanks Irene--and Good Night to you too.. But this time I am thinking of a new quilt instead of worrying about that to do list. Sweet. The way life should be.

Now I had been telling myself that my first quilt should be optimistic. Bright colors like first light. Happy and joyous. A quilt about hope and rebirth.

But instead I think of one in the soft colors of greys and taupe, steel blues and mist. I am scared to make it. The Deerfield River is still flowing strong and brown right now--remembering its rage and sorrow. I can see it from my new studio. Do I really want to go there? Is it too soon? Or maybe this is what I need to do? I am not sure.

I plow through the lovely boxes of stash I have received. Such gifts from the heart. Each one does cheer and encourage me. The one with two pieces--just the colors that I need. The customer who sent a lavender color that I had sadly used up a few years ago--how glad I am to have it again. The quilt maker who wanted to interview me--much like they do at the Animal Shelter--would I promise to use and enjoy the fabric as much as she had? I tore into that package.

Yes, maybe I need to be making the colors of the mud and river part of me. Yes, this is what interests me right now. It is my life.

Don't you just love these fabrics? And the new cutting board--thank you Notion to Quilt. And I start to sew--slowly at first. It is a challenge to figure out the fabrics. A few that I had stored high in the studio--these I know. Many from others that I need to learn about. To study and absorb. But I am sewing. This feels right.

Gradually I regain confidence. Add the strips one at a time. Right now I can't add that dusky muddy green--that feels too close to home. Instead just a bit of the mauve and pink. That hint of sunrise and rebirth.

Not bad is it? Maybe the next one needs that green of angry water--not sure. Probably I do need to work through that. But today I must finish this one--just a simple square--but from the heart. What do you think? What inspires your quilts? Do you ever find yourself making a quilt to deal with life?

after all, I am a craftsperson

2011-09-12T07:06:00.000-04:00

I remember years and years ago--I was at one of those very prestigious craft shows inside a large convention center. This was back when booth fees were much more affordable and they wanted people to have L-A-R-G-E booths. So I had sprung for a 15 x 10 foot space which used every piece of display I had to create my booth. For those who don't know, my booth is made from 1" steel pipes that very cleverly snap together with some connectors designed just for this purpose. It is a wonderful strong system that does not sag under the weight of my quilts but the one drawback is that it is not very flexible. The booth must be made with right angles and must be the size of the pieces. So 15 x 10 works great, 14 x 9 requires a lot of thought.

Anyhow, this particular space had a huge supporting pillar--about 3 feet by 4 feet right in the back corner of the booth. I did not have the display parts to deal with this pillar so I asked one of the very friendly volunteers if there was anything that could be done. Her answer was so cut and dry it has always stuck with me.

"No," she said. "Nothing can be done about it. But," she added with a smile, "you are a craftsperson and I am sure you will figure it out."

And in fact I did. I jerry-rigged some method of tieing the booth together and taping a curtain over the offending pillar--I forget exactly how but remember lots of duct tape and bungee cord--and I had a great show.

Needless to say, this is a skill that I have had to use more than once.

The last couple days as I was getting the new studio ready for a "soft" re-opening I found that my coping skills lacking. Little things wore on me. The young reporter--who was herself overwhelmed by the numerous tragedies of Irene in West County--and many are far worse off than I am--asked me one too many questions that showed she did not know how hard I was working to set up the new space. The friend who wanted to sell me something. You must know the feeling. Hey, I even started to hold a pity party for myself--and trust me, I don't like pity parties--especially when I am the hostess. Time to snap out of it.

I needed my quilts up. I needed to be open for business. The new studio had been so lovingly cleaned by volunteers--both wonderful old friends and new ones that I have made. Sure there is a ton more to do. The floor needs lots of TLC. Storage space needs to be in place. Lights. But that could wait. I just needed to get the quilts up. Display the smaller items. But how?

Sure, I had received a wonderful grant from CERF+--do check them out--such a marvelous caring organization. My friends had out-done themselves. How lucky I am. I had even pre-shopped for used furniture that would look great in the space. The new studio is half the size of the old. That will come in a few weeks.

But I wanted to be open NOW. I needed to be sewing NOW!!! That is after all, how I stay sane and cope with life--or at least as sane as I normally am. So when a friend said, "You are a craftsperson. Use your booth display furniture for now," I realized she was absolutely right.

Why not. This I know how to do. This I have been doing for so many years. So I enlisted yet another friend to help me hang my quilts. Set up my booth furniture and tables. Put out the table runners and purses that I had taken to the craft fair. Made a stack of the placemats that had not sold in Evanston. Don't want to do it for long, but not bad for now, is it?

Now I can sew. After all, I didn't have flood insurance--only two people in town did, FEMA does not help small businesses--GRRR--I had not known that before, and I am not sure I want a loan from the SBA, so the only way out is to make the very best quilts that I can. There is a tax write off for losses--I just need the income to write off . I need to make the orders I have received.

And though the studio still looks unfinished, I can now see there is a bit of normal in my life.

And you what do you do when life takes that unexpected turn? Whether it is health or family or business? How do you stay sane? Return to normal? If you are a craftsperson or an artist, how do you return to work?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--Good Night Irene

2011-09-01T15:37:00.000-04:00

What an amazing few days this has been. This will be a short note for now. For those who don't know, my beloved studio was washed down the Deerfield River as a result of Hurricane Irene. I can't really bear to go into the details again--for those curious I have been posting regular updates on my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/AnnBrauerQuiltStudio If you want you can google me on YouTube--just look for Ann Brauer Hurricane Irene. Luckily for me I was doing the American Craft Exposition in Evanston, IL and had my best quilts with me. Because the studio floated down the river and came to rest against a valiant maple tree, some of the items I had stored on higher shelves survived. Most importantly for me, the two quilts my grandmother made were dry. Some of my equipment can be salvaged. Some fabric was OK. Much of my stash was lost.

Indeed much of Shelburne Falls suffered very serious damage although we were very lucky that the entire town was not destroyed. The whole community has pulled together in so many wonderful ways. Already the streets are lined with equipment pumping water, clearing streets and helping people put their lives back together. Many businesses are still open including McCusker's, Salmon Falls Artisans Showroom and many of the businesses on the Shelburne side of the river. The Iron Bridge is now open for pedestrian traffic.

Which leads me to the very good news. I just rented a lovely studio space on the Shelburne side of the bridge. I am right next to Dick and Dianne Muller--whom I have known for almost as long as I have been a quilt maker. I could not have nicer neighbors--and if you don't know their leather work--especially their wonderful handbags--I know you will want to stop by and see them when you visit me. The space is actually really nice with those wonderful patterned tin ceilings and those wonderful windows overlooking the sidewalk.

Sometime next week I hope to begin getting moved into the space although I am sure it will take a while to become accustomed to my surroundings. I will be at the Paradise City Arts Festival in Northampton on Columbus Day week-end as usual. If I was supposed to contact you for any reason, please forgive me.

Here is a picture of my new space.

Soon my address will be 6 Bridge Street, Shelburne Falls, MA 01370 I plan to keep the same phone number. As always, if you are coming from a distance do give me a phone call since there will be lots of meetings with FEMA, MEMA and probably others. For now if you need to reach me, you can e-mail me or call me at 413 628 4014. My mail is getting held at the 2 Conway Street address.

And I am sorry but this month I just can't do a quilt of the month. I am sure you will understand.

I get blown over--and not by Irene

2011-08-27T08:58:00.000-04:00

One of the things I love most about doing a really good craft show is seeing the work that my friends have done in the last couple of years since our paths have crossed. You see there are lots of good shows out there--sometimes I get into them, sometimes I don't. Sometimes my friends get into them, sometimes they don't. But what makes it interesting is that these wonderful people get into the shows because they keep pushing themselves to try new things. To take an idea and see where it goes--while still maintaining their essential focus.

Let me show you. First I stop at the booth of Renee Harris. Now it feels like I have known her forever--though it hasn't actually been that long. Her graphic images were always strong and always portrayed just that right space in the imagination. This year I looked at her booth--still Renee's work--but the images seemed a bit softer. There was something about the colors. Different but I couldn't put my finger on it. Yes, the image was framed--sorry about the reflection but I hope you get the idea.

What is it? I asked Renee. It looks different.

By now she has become fascinated using Japanese papers and upholstery fabric. She said she was doing almost no felting. Instead she loved using the upholstery fabric. She could manipulate it so that sometimes the design showed through. Sometimes it is almost hidden by the surface detail.

If you look carefully in this fish you can see the colors of the fabric shimmering in the water. From different angles bits of the hidden surface re-emerge. Hard to photograph all the detail through the glass--you really do want to see it in person if you can. They are absolutely wonderful. She told me how hard it was to learn to sew over the paper--the needles did not want to go through the surface. But so much fun to go into the studio and play with these new materials.

Then at home--yes, she and her husband do have the joys of a new puppy. What exuberance. Lots of embroidery here too. And check out the wonderful use of fabrics.

More of her work can be seen at her website: http://www.reneeharris.net

Then it was time for me to move on the booth of Susan Hill. Now I will be to the first to confess that I don't know Susan's work as well as I would like. Sure I can recognize it but she is from Kansas City and our paths have not crossed that frequently. However, who could not be in awe of the amazing spaces full of light. As she told me each one is based on a particular story although she reassured me that you do not have to know the story to understand the work.

Just look at this piece. Wonderful isn't it. So exuberant.

It turns out she weaves her own tapestry fabric and then appliques other fabrics and designs on top of it. There are so many textures and motions. So much detail. I could study it for hours.

Just look at all the detail and motion. She assured me that her work is framed in museum quality glass. Gorgeous. For more info check out her website: http://www.susanhilldesign.com

I could have studied her work for hours but time was getting short though and I did want to see the work of Martha Fieber. Now I first saw Martha at this show in Evanston a number of years ago and fell in love with the art. So subtle and soothing. Embroidery that conveys her love of the natural surroundings in Michigan and tells a story.

This time she had a stunning piece on the back wall. The largest she has ever done, she told me. How difficult it was to work with such a large--for her--piece. The detail and the rhythm had to be just right. When she first finished, she said she would never do anything that large again, but... Isn't it lovely?

I think it might be twenty--maybe twenty four inches long. The key is examining all the detail she includes in the work. Just look at the care. So many tiny French knots. Such rhythm and depth in the trees. Never repeating but seeming to open up into another enchanted space.

Oh I do love her work. And she doesn't only do scenes from late autumn. Here is a detail of a lovely brighter day. This piece is just exquisite. Can you imagine the skill that it takes and the patience? Her website is http://www.marthafieber.com.

But now the show is opening. I must return to my booth and think about all I have seen. So much inspiration. So much design that conveys the message. I know that when I return home I will work with renewed enthusiasm having learned and observed so much. The show continues today and tomorrow at Northwestern University in Evanston, IL.

For more info: http://www.americancraftexpo.org If you are in the area--do stop by. Talk with these and the other wonderful artists about their work. What do you think? Do you follow a favorite artist? What inspires you? Whose work blows you away--figuratively not literally please?

the power of begonias

2011-08-25T17:22:00.000-04:00

Today after I finished setting up my booth for the American Craft Exposition I took a stroll outside in Evanston. What a lovely town it is--wide streets, a feeling of openness, such promise of prairies and sky. The sun pouring down on me. What lovely plantings on the street I thought--such care to add color on the sidewalk. Then I looked again.

These were wax begonias. A flower I confess I have always found hard to take seriously. Not splashy like a tuber begonia. Not powerful like goldenrod or daisies. No--just seemingly ordinary wax begonias in classic pink. But here they looked just perfect, don't you agree?

Square after square of pinkness against the soft grey of the locust trees became a pattern. A dance between the froth of the pink and the grey locust trees. What a daring combination.

Then I started to look some more. In the central square there were impatience--another flower that I just don't grow. Yes, I am a bit of a flower snob I guess. But here the simple color in seemingly random fashion filled the space with an unexpected lushness.

The planters overflowed with sweet potato and some dark vine I did not know. Again so rich in texture and fullness. There was something so complete here.

What does this tell me about design and the power of repetition? Why did this look so right and perfect?

I confess I don't know the answers yet. But there is something so human in the repetition and the detail. The feeling of texture. The richness of the life they show. And there is also something so wonderfully simple in the ordinariness of the flowers. Maybe these plantings remind me of quilts--I don't know. Something so simple in their humbleness that when knit together sours with a color and emotion. Or am I reading too much into them? Should I just enjoy their beauty for beauty? Does it even have to be explained?

step by step

2011-08-22T13:31:00.003-04:00

In just two hours I must start packing for the American Craft Exposition in Evanston. Oh I am not in the mood to do this. The fair is at least a 16 hour drive away. Just as you are almost there--you get to drive through Chicago. Ugh!!! Why did they put all the interstates converging on downtown Chicago. What a slow slow mess that is. Then off load the van and set up.

Now once I get set-up I will be glad to be there. The show is lovely. One of the best in the country. I always feel that it is a privilege to get in. The volunteers are simply splendid. They do everything and then some to help you. So kind and well-organized. And I do love being right by Lake Michigan. It is so huge, such powerful waves. Wonderful rocks along the shore line. An inland ocean without the smell of the salt water. Already I have one customer who has said he will be there hunting for another wall hanging. Nice. I didn't do the show last year--others hopefully will also want new work.

But for now I must get organized. Stay calm. Finish up the new placemats--a bright fresh green that will add just the right accent to the stack of placemats. Customers do like to have a selection to choose from. Clean up the brand new quilt--I have named it ancient light. What do you think?

I can't wait until I can get the reaction of the customers and other artists to the new line. Do you know the excitement of showing new work?

Then take the seats out of my van. Yes, I can lift them--barely. Check my lights for the display--make sure they work. And pack the van--slowly but surely. Trying to decide what to take--no room for pillows this time--but I think I will take the purses. I do have lots of eyeglass cases--they should sell well. Remember my order book. So many things to do. So methodically. I have done this before. I must just be sure and steady.

Remember that the longest journey begins with the first step. Calm and thoughtful. Make sure I don't forget anything. And then drive--go west quilt maker--go west. This is a journey to do one step at a time knowing that I can do it--without thinking of the overall big picture.

And you--how do you prepare for a big craft show? Or a big trip?

the new kitten

2011-08-18T18:03:00.000-04:00

I know I haven't published a new blog post for a few days. Don't worry I have a good excuse. You see, my DH and I decided we just HAD to have a new kitten. There was this little grey kitten advertised at our local shelter--so cute. I was immediately in love. And--for those who don't already know--I do have the best DH. So if I wanted it, yes, we should get it. The Animal Shelter--a very good animal shelter--was also delighted. For no reason related to either the animal shelter or to Tonks--she had been at the shelter for half of her entire life--and she was going quite bonkers in her cage. I mean, the shelter tried so hard to keep her entertained but there was only so much they could do after all. Cute though isn't she?

But what we didn't know--until we got her home--was that not only was she glad to get out of her cage--she ran wildly around the house for hours just stretching her legs after all--but that having been in that cage for half of her little life there was just so much for her to learn. What could she do? What should she do? Every fly or wad of paper was a new adventure. Her first attempts to jump up on the sofa were quite funny, actually. Almost-- but not quite--and she would slide off onto the floor. (Yes, I am a cat lover and I would rather cover my sofa than not have my cats on it.) What was safe? What was not a good idea? So much to learn all at once?

And this is where the blog actually begins talking about quilts and not kittens. Yes, I really do make quilts--if only to support my love of cats. For I just got back from a craft fair where I got told over and over again how they were going to make a quilt just like mine. I always get told this. Then I just got an e-mail from a lovely woman who had actually seen my quilts--she was trying to make her own wall hanging for her living room only it was much harder than she thought. Where to begin? She had a vision but it was harder than she thought.

I got to thinking about the whole concept. How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

Practice.

How do you make a quilt?

Practice.

Start small. Make one area of the quilt that you envision over and over again until it has become what you want. Then make the next area. Study, read, observe. But always keep practicing. Isn't this just what Tonks is now doing? Practicing jumping up on the sofa over and over again until she can do it without thinking. Learning where she should go and where is not safe. Learning the signals of my voice. Good Tonks. No Tonks. Down Tonks. I think of the Japanese potter Hamada who--when asked how long does it take to make a pot--answered in all seriousness--a lifetime.

At least that is how I learn. And how I hope that Tonks will learn. Already she can make the sofa without thought. And even sometimes she just lies down and rests. And you--my reader--how do you learn to make a quilt? What advice would you give? Any thoughts on taming the wild kitten?

filling the square

2011-08-16T08:16:00.000-04:00

Let's face it--quilts just don't happen. Designs don't just show up. There is a thought process and at least for me, understanding my thought process usually comes after I have made the quilt. Or at least several in the same series. Sure I have standard tricks. I make lots of sketches. Try out lots of different fabrics and designs. For me it almost becomes a jazz composition--one design dictates what the next design must become. Then I riff on that and circle back to the initial design. A complex dance of design and thought limited by techniques and the colors of fabric I want to create--simple and complex at the same time. For instance I wrote about creating this quilt HERE.

Anyhow, I love this act of designing the quilts and paying careful attention to the rhythms of the designs but I am also fascinated with the process that others use. What can I learn by talking with other artists? Picking their brains. At the Berkshire Craft Show last week-end I was really taken with the wall panels of Sheilagh Flynn. Now I have known Sheilagh and her work for a number of years--even had a booth next to her once or twice. You can read more about her HERE.

Her colors are lush and soft--the dreamy colors of shebert or foggy mornings--she does live near the ocean after all. Wonderful textures in her work. There is a consistent feeling that makes it recognizable. Sure she makes lots of lovely bowls and vases. Teapots. But this time I noticed the wall panels. Such simple designs--relying not only on the different textures of clay and the color she creates. Aren't they lovely?

But how--I asked her--did she create so many designs? Each one so different but related. It turns out this is a great story and a slightly different approach. Easy she says. She thinks of it as filling the squares. She loves popsicles--couldn't you guess it from the lovely colors she uses? So she decided that she had to save the popsicle sticks and each night cover a popsicle stick with graphic designs. Only one or two per night. But isn't that such a wonderful idea? Wouldn't you love to see her popsicle stick collection? Aren't the textures delightful?

Now I am not sure I want to draw designs on popsicle sticks but I do realize that simple designs are all around us. For instance I look at this image of a window I took. Simple colors. Great textures. Should this be a new quilt? Hmm I will have to think about this. So many possibilities. And aren't the popsicle sticks almost the outlines of a jazz composition just like a square is?

And you--how do you create new designs? Do you ever think about filling the square? Do you fill notebooks? Or popsicle sticks? Do you take images of designs? Or do they just come to you?

thoughts on set up, baskets and a gang of dogs standing on the lawn

2011-08-11T16:57:00.003-04:00

Now anyone who has followed my blog knows that I don't really like setting up for a craft show. Sure I look forward to the show itself with nervous anticipation--will the customers come, will they like my new work, what will I learn from my neighbors. But set up itself can be a nerve-wracking experience no matter how well run the show is and how much help the promoters offer.

Such was the case this morning setting up for the Berkshire Craft Show. Now this is an absolute gem of a show that I have done periodically throughout the course of my career. It is set in a wonderful public high school in Great Barrington, MA and sponsored by the teachers at the school to raise funds for different school functions--they actually included a list of all of their accomplishments in the info they gave us during check-in but I confess I have not yet read it thoroughly. Trust me though--the funds go to worthwhile causes.

The students at the school volunteer to help unload your van--they have to do a community project before graduation and this counts. What could be easier?

Of course the "problem" is that instead of standard 10 x 10 foot booths--all booths are nominally 10 x 6 feet. Now you can't really object to this--after all the school is not that big and if they did not have smaller booths they couldn't attract the diversity of fine crafts that they offer. But this is always the dilemma of this show--how to convert one's booth to the right size. Habits can be hard to break. And I haven't done the show for several years so I forgot how I resolved it in the past.

This time I just made the booth 10 x 5--that worked. But then what will fit into my booth? I don't want it to look too crowded. I decided I still wanted a large quilt hanging in the back--the promoters did give me a booth with a wonderful view down the aisle. Just look at the location--sweet huh? You can see it down the entire aisle.

Then I do want to get reaction to my newest piece--so that hangs on one of the side walls. What do you think? Nice combination.

Lots of my other quilts are folded up. You can see them there--hopefully I will have lots of customers who want particular colors and sizes. I can easily pull them out and make the booth look "busy". That is always good isn't it? I brought pillows--they get tucked underneath--not bad. Tomorrow I will put out the eyeglass cases. Not too many potholders--they take up space that I don't really have. Hopefully I will have to rearrange the booth several times during the show.

Meanwhile I am delighted with the quality of work at the show this year. It is always nice doing a show with other artists whose work I admire. As luck would have it, my booth is next to Joanne Russo. Now for those who don't know her work--she makes wonderful very elegant looking baskets with great attention to detail. Just look at the sophistication of this woven wall hanging. Lovely, isn't it?

Look at all of the textures and materials she incorporates. I also love this tall elegant basket. Consider the lines and rhythms that are formed in its design.

When I examine it closer I see that some of the shapes are actually hooks and eyes that she carefully incorporates into the design. How clever is that? If there are slow moments in the show, I know I will be studying her work more closely. There are lots more fun elements in it. For more info check out her web site HERE.

Then finally as I leave the fair, I glance at the lawn in front of the school. Now I had read that they were going to have some of Dale Rogers steel dogs on the lawn but I hadn't expected this. A whole pack of dogs standing there in seemingly natural configurations.

Yes, those really are dog bone shapes cut out of them. Even though I am a cat person, I can't help but smile at this grouping!!! It must be a good sign.

Already I am excited about the show. It runs Friday, Saturday and Sunday 10-5 in Great Barrington, MA. There is so much wonderful work here. I haven't seen the entire show yet--but I can't wait to walk the aisles.

And you, do you have mixed feelings during set-up? Do you check the show to see who your neighbors are? Do you anticipate the excitement of shows? And did the dogs bring a smile to your face?

telling a story that has no words

2011-08-09T07:40:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I have to make the quilt to determine what it is about. Sure I know the colors and mood I want. Those mystical colors of the forest--the greys and taupes which have no name. The unexpected warmth of the rusts and yellows. The feeling of light and motion juxtaposed against the dark lines. A jazz composition in fabric determined by rules and sizes--riffs that I know as I discover the whole.

Each day I come home from work exhausted. Trying to get it done for the Berkshire Craft Show this week-end. So many choices. So much careful detail to the colors and potentials of the fabric. Make what I know. Then stop and think. This is a quilt I can feel but not see. I know it is about the woods. Light in the forest I call it. A good title. I can see the motion--not sure how to get there. What does it mean?

Gradually I sew it together. How to get this line. This beat of the quilt.

I pin it to the design board. Do I want the lines to continue--is that the answer or is it too regular? What is the quilt about? These colors--where do they come from. Each one dictated by the last one. Haunting aren't they?

I change the quilt. Move the right hand side down a couple of inches. Sometimes I think better by actually moving the fabric if you know what I mean? There is a story here--but I must discover the words for it.

Yes that is better--more unexpected. Creates new lines. Amazing what a couple of inches can do isn't it? Makes the story complete.

Sew the quilt together. Hang it for a day. Let it age into place before the final finish. Try to learn what I was doing so I can make the next quilt. The colors brighter than the snapshot I take. Not muddy but complex.

I think of the motion and colors of the quilt. The hike up Stratton Mountain. The constant stride--up and up we climb. Through the roots and rocks. Noticing the colors of the trees. The light that changes as we reach the summit. I wrote about it HERE.Yes, maybe that is the origin of the quilt. Not that this quilt is about hiking or Stratton Mountain. This quilt does not have a story but a mood and feeling.

How scary it is to work without that safety net. But also fascinating. Where will it lead? Do you ever work like this? What do you think?

the wind up

2011-08-04T07:52:00.000-04:00

Now I am of course a Red Sox fan--after all I have lived in Massachusetts for years and years--so how can I resist rooting for the home town team. But my hidden secret--don't tell anyone--is that I don't watch the games--didn't even when we used to get TV. They take too long, if you know what I mean.

You know the routine. The pitcher strolls to the mound. Looks around. Kicks the dust a bit. Maybe winds up once or twice. A few signals to the catcher. Then the manager strolls to the mound. Confers with the pitcher. The routine starts again. And again. Finally just when you have quit paying attention, there is the pitch. A strike. Or was it a ball. And the pitcher begins again.

Now I have had true fans explain to me that this is part of a dance. Where the action is. A game of psyching out the batter. This is what I should be watching. But I just find it so so slow--if you know what I mean.

Of course I find myself doing the same thing when starting a new quilt. Especially if I like the new quilt. I finished scenes from a summer a little while ago. Even blogged about the it HERE.

As you may remember I want to make a series of these quilts using the thin pieces as accents for jury slides. And I want to have at least one more quilt done soon. After all I am doing not only doing the Berkshire Craft Show in about a week but then I have to drive to Evanston for the American Craft Expo--what was I thinking?

Working in series for me can be hard. I can overthink the process and make a quilt that is too expected. Too defined. A quilt where the thin accents would be expected. Or I can start a quilt and get stuck. And I don't mean stuck as I have to sleep on it over night--I mean stuck as in no clue what I am going to do next. Put the quilt aside for months stuck. UFO stuck. Not good when I have a deadline.

Instead I must psyche myself out. Wind up. Make some eyeglass cases. Maybe some placemats--I do need some in gold.

Sketch and think. Make more eyeglass cases--at the last show I sold twenty--I do need a lot. After all they keep me in my booth. The money does add up. Sketch some more.

Then finally at the end of the day I start the quilt. So lonely the first pieces look up on the design board don't they? Will it work? I don't know. I tell myself to make what I know. There is still one section that I don't have a clue about. Maybe it will come to me as I sew. Maybe I can experiment once I get more on the board. At least I will have something on the board to play with. Maybe I will need to make some more eyeglass cases. More sketches.

And you--how do you start a new quilt? Do you do a long wind up dance? Skuff up the dust on the mound? Clean the studio? Make something you know? What tricks can you share?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--August news

2011-08-01T08:01:00.000-04:00

Can you believe how quickly the summer is going by? Already peak season in my daylily garden is almost over--always somewhat sad but as it winds down my attention turns to the late and very late daylilies upon which I can focus. Always gorgeous in their own right. Besides soon it will be time for peaches and tomatoes--what more can I ask for?

Meanwhile I am busily preparing for not one but two craft shows in August. The first one is the Berkshire Craft Show at Monument Mountain High School in Great Barrington, MA on August 12-14. For those who have never been, this is a charming small show with artists from across the Northeast displaying some wonderful work in the air-conditioned comfort of the high school. Do check it out if you are in the area--http://www.berkshirecraftshow.org. Then later in the month I will be doing the American Craft Exposition in Evanston, IL. This is one of the few shows that I will gladly drive a distance to participate in. This time it is set in the air-conditioned comfort of the Gymnasium at Northwestern University right along Lake Michigan--do you notice a theme here? There is some absolutely amazing work from around the country and I am honored to be doing this show. The show runs from August 26-28 and is definitely worth checking out if you are in the area. For more information the web site is http://www.americancraftsexpo.org

I have added a few new images to my web site--http://www.annbrauer.com I am particularly excited about my quilt desert solitaire in which I used my fine piecing to accent the more free form background that I am known for. What do you think? If I am not doing these shows I hope to be in my studio working but do call or e-mail me first as I also may be visiting an elderly relative who is trying to live by himself.

And now for the quilt of the month--this month the quilt is prairie sky. I love the bright image of the sun rising over the horizon. This quilt hung in the U.S. Embassy in Dili, Timor-Leste next to a work of Josef Albers for a year. The quilt is 40 x 56". For the next ten days the quilt which normally sells for $1200 will be $600 plus tax and shipping. As usual, it is available on a first come/first serve basis. At the end of ten days the price will return to $1200 so if you are interested, please e-mail me.

Thanks so much. I hope I get to see many of you soon.

time for some R & R

2011-07-29T08:27:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you just have to say "Yes!!!" "Great idea, hun!!!"

Vacation with my DH--a trip to the Green Mountains of Vermont--one of those wonderful parts of the world--so beautiful. So close to home. Having a great time just being with my DH--how rare those moments are--you must know the feeling.

"Let's hike to the top of Stratton Mountain," he suggested. Just under 4000 feet. There is a fire tower at the top. 360 degree views. We know Stratton Mountain--have always wanted to climb it. Have hiked bits of the Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail.

I love those activities. Step after step--carefully--up the mountain. A trip with a purpose. A destination. A feeling of accomplishment. Almost like making a quilt--yes, of course I think about quilts--even on vacation. That is just who I am--if you know what I mean.

Slowly, steadily we climb. The path at first easy-- a little muddy in places. Lovely hard wood forest. Tiny streams crossing over. Then the tree roots cling to the ground. A tangle to pick through on the trail. Carefully. Up, up we go. More rocks than roots on the trail now. R & R--Roots and Rocks get it?

We stop for a break at a wonderful boulder. Actually it is two rocks taller than me almost touching. The space in between. I love the power of these large boulders. Such force and reassurance.

The tension of the space between. The cracks just waiting. Paused in the evolution of the mountain. Such simple shapes defining a moment larger than I can comprehend.

A tree seeming to hold up the rock. The twists in each counter-balancing the other.

The small details. What wonderful compositions. So much to absorb.

Simple. Complete. Just colors and shapes that happen--just waiting to be noticed.

The greens of the moss. The colors of the rock. So much to see.

But how long can I delay. The trail beckons. Up. Up. The trees turn into balsam spruce. Shorter. The sky is more visible. Lighter. We are ridge running. Catch just a glimpse of distant water. It can't be far now. Hikers on the way down urge us on--the fire tower is worth it. The goal. Finally we are on top of the world. We have done much harder trails--this one just requires slow and steady care. Water breaks.

Then finally we are there. The fire tower beckons. And the views. Greylock. Monadnock. Killington. Ridges of the Green Mountains. What is so essential about this expanse? What is its power to take our breath away?

Why do we like to see the distant lakes mapped out for us? What longing and desires do we see here?

And you--do you climb those high peaks? Seek those views? Do you find inspiration and patterns in the simple designs of nature? Do you see quilts here? What do you do for R & R?

sometimes it is the little things

2011-07-25T08:10:00.000-04:00

Oh--don't you love it when ideas come together? I piece and plan--piece and plan. What a great concept. Jazz and summer scenes. Wonderful colors. Ideas flowing. The quilt just sitting there--so full of promise and anticipation. You must have had moments like that--at least I hope so.

Then I sew it together. In blocks of colors first. It always looks so different then doesn't it. Ooops. I knew I had not measured the two sides to be quite the same--figured I would work it out when I sewed it together. Give me some wiggle room. But....

Where to cut it off? What to eliminate? Is there too much white in this design? I pin it up. Squint. Use my hands to square it off in my mind. Obviously I must tuck in that tail of fabric--that is distracting.

Still too much white, isn't there? Maybe that is the clue?

More images. Yes, that shows the color progression but doesn't glare. Time to let it sit there for a couple days. Amazing how a picture can help define the quilt isn't it?

Do you ever do this? Get inspired and then stuck? Which do you like better? Am I missing something?

it's too damn hot!!!

2011-07-21T07:37:00.000-04:00

OK--the heat wave has finally made it up to New England. Now I know that for those of you in other parts of the United States you are probably thinking what a spoiled quiltmaker I am--after all, so far this weather has been relatively pleasant up here. And we do know that a bit of hot weather is good for the tomatoes and basil. But--let's face it--I am a spoiled. Enough said.

Luckily I just got new images back from my photographer John Polak. You can check out his web site HERE. I even posted them on my web site last night which is HERE. So without further ado--let me preview the images for you. What do you think? Which is your favorite?

Desert solitaire--45 x 45 inches.

Don't you just love this close-up?

Reflections on the night--45 x 45 inches.

Hidden lake--45 x 43".

Autumn dawn--50 x 70 inches.

Into the woods--99 x 99 inches. Used as a bed quilt.

Isn't my photographer great? Which is your favorite? Which themes should I work on? And more importantly what are you doing to stay nice and cool?

is it okay to actually use your art quilt?

2011-07-19T08:04:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it seems to me that the simplest questions can be the most loaded, if you know what I mean. This time I get an inquiry from an interior decorator--"Do you make quilts for beds?" she asked. "Of course," I reply. After all, isn't that why people originally made quilts--to cover their beds. And certainly that is the reason that many people still make quilts. Just go to your local quilt guild if you don't believe me.

And yet, when I do a craft show I inevitably get asked again and again if my big quilts are meant to be placed on beds. Now most of these are just questions--making conversation. Speaking with the artist. No problem there really. Hey, I even have people who hang my potholders as wall art in the kitchen. Fine by me.

But when I wrote a blog post about a quilt I had made that the couple envisioned as either hanging on a wall or being used as a bed quilt, I received lots of e-mails advising me in all sincerity to not mention that the quilt might actually be used. I was told that I was hurting the Art Quilt movement by suggesting that the quilt go over a bed. Even devaluing it!! These are not supposed to be your grandmother's quilts, after all. You can read the bog post HERE.

I got to thinking about this question. Now about half of my large quilts are put on beds and half are hung on walls. Nothing wrong with that. The quilts on walls certainly do look great--the colors blend from a distance. And I certainly know that not everyone can afford one of my quilts on their beds. But shouldn't it be an option? Does it make it any less a piece of art if it is actually used?

Blue hills is used on a bed. The couple wrote me that sleeping under it every night is like sleeping in the gentle calm of the ocean. Nice, isn't it.

Dreams of the dawn is hung in a large office entry way. But the companion quilt--dreams of the sky--is on a bed. The gentleman who owns it told me it is the best piece of art he owns. He uses it every day.

I think of other examples of art. Isn't the design for Central Park art even though it is used every day?
What about the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial on the National Mall in Washington, DC? The lamps of Tiffany? Certainly they are not meant to just sit there--unplugged? Or an outfit by Chanel--would you just hang it up and never wear it? Indeed I wonder if the problems that the homes of Frank Lloyd Wright have in usability--I assume that is a word--may even detract from their artistic nature? Just a thought.

So why shouldn't we make art quilts that are put on beds? I glance through a magazine for interior decorators that specializes in fiber for interiors. Lovely rugs. Great pillows. But the bed covers are chenille bed spreads. Comforters with large designs. Throws. Lovely beds--but isn't there something missing? Such a large empty canvas that could be covered with art. Are we as artists losing an opportunity?

Now certainly making a quilt for a bed does have specific requirements. For instance the quilt must cover the bed. The design must look great on the bed. How does it drape over the edges? What does the design look like as you approach it? Does it co-ordinate with the bed itself? There do need to be concerns for durability in terms of the materials and techniques used. But that can't limit the nature of art can it?

So what do you think? Do you make quilts that can be used on beds? Do you use a quilt on your bed? Are we missing an opportunity or is this sacrilegious?

is there ever anything new?

2011-07-15T10:14:00.000-04:00

Recently there has been a great discussion on the daylily robin that I belong to--the question is whether with more than 60,000 daylilies registered and more than 1000 more getting registered every year--is it still possible for a backyard hybridizer to create a new and distinctive daylily. What more can be done? Sure, there is still the quest for the blue daylily--good luck. And some of the daylilies from the South just don't open in the North. But--don't many of the daylilies begin to look like each other anyway? How do you tell one from the other--is a flower that is four inches across that different from one that is 5 inches across?

Great questions. Indeed on my Studio Art Quilt forum the same issues are being raised. Is it possible to create new quilts that are distinctive and art? Has everything that can be said, been said? How far can the medium of quilts be pushed? And is the act of pushing sufficient or should we just make quilts? Are we too eager for the new?

I look around at my garden. There are so many flowers I love. I love watching new flowers open up. See the clumps develop in my garden. The mysteries of trahlyta. Exuberant. Unfolding patterns that resonate in a clump.

The joy of morning for flamingos--notice how the petals curve round and the slight ruffling at the edge.

The lush color of imperial lemon that opens up into the sunlight. Note the distinctive veins.

These are all lovely--but isn't there something more I want? Not only in terms of more flowers--although it may be possible to have too many flowers. No, I want to know my flowers better. I am a curious person and the potential discovery of seeing a new flower I created interests me. But I can't do it all. A scattershot approach does not work. It takes two or three years for a daylily up north to grow from seed to mature flower. How many duds do I need on the off-chance that I get something lovely? Shouldn't my time be well spent?

I read a wonderful post by Bob Faulkner--a backyard hybridizer known for his intricately patterned daylilies. He began his expedition into hybridizing because he did not have the money to purchase the flowers he wanted. You can see images of his work here--well, worth checking out. The key he says is FOCUS. Create an image of the daylily you are trying to create--maybe sketch it out. All of the characteristics. Verbalize it. You know--the elevator speech we are all taught to give. What are you trying to do in two sentences. Research. Keep notes. Compost those plants that are not on the path to the goal.

I think about it--yes, I want a tall plant. Dainty and dancing in the sun. Not necessarily yellow. I get some ideas. Start the research. I can begin to picture it. I make notes of ideas. Polly love--but much taller. Maybe a bit pinker? More trumpet like? Not sure yet.

But this is fun. I love the tall flowers I have--citrina. Dancing in the sunlight. I love the process--careful and planned with of course the element of surprise. Isn't that the same thing that quiltmakers or artists should be doing? The same FOCUS that will make our work truly unique and distinctive. After all if we are true to ourselves then our work will only be like us and we are each unique individuals. I think of the mysteries of landscapes. That edge between what is and the place we take ourselves. Isn't that what I want to keep exploring? Isn't that an answer? At least for me at this point in time.

And you--what are you trying to explore? What is essential? Or do you approach it differently?

what to bring

2011-07-12T14:30:00.000-04:00

Today I packed for the Guilford Craft Show this week-end. Set-up is tomorrow on the Town Green and the show opens on Thursday. But what to take?

Now I do know people who bring everything they have to a craft show. They travel in big vans--leave the vans packed between shows. This is what they do. Some of my friends from the West Coast just store their work on the East Coast. That makes sense for them. But--as most of my readers know--I also sell work out of my studio. I don't want to pack and unpack everything after each show. It wouldn't be good for the quilts. It wouldn't fit in my Honda Odyssey. And it wouldn't be good for me--if you know what I mean. Besides customers get confused if they have too much choice--have you noticed that? K.I.S.S.

So what to do? How to decide? Now some of it is obvious. Of course I always want to bring my best work. There is no point in paying all this money and taking all this time not to show the very best I have. But lots of my quilts are great--if I do say so--and right now my stock is high. So let me think.
Guilford is along the ocean--have you ever been there--really a lovely little town. Upscale but charming. I think light on the ocean should come with me.

A couple more pieces in blues. Midnight ocean will look great in my booth, don't you think?

I need some browns and tans. Wonder what people will think of desert solitaire. I just had it's picture taken. I am very curious to get reaction to this piece.

This show hasn't seen rainbows of summer. Definitely I will bring that. I try to remember what I brought to the last show in any venue so that my booth does not seem stale.

Ditto with blue hills--what a dynamic piece. Perfect for your beach house, don't you think?

I have a customer who wants to show her husband out of the mist. That's easy--I don't always bring that one but...

But I think I will leave first mountain at home--not a quilt for the ocean. Indeed the only interest I have had for that quilt is someone looking to add it to their Colorado ski cottage.

There are a few other quilts that will stay behind--the ones that I am still thinking about. Not quite complete in their ideas. Or work that has been seen in Guilford already. This is July--I don't want too much work in the colors of autumn--this is not the season for that. I go through and try to create a collection. Add some smaller quilts that I think will sell. Not everything I make. Again I don't want my booth to look cluttered. But a selection. I hope I chose right.

And you--how do you choose what work to take? Do you take everything? What do you think?

So how do you

capturing the sky

2011-07-08T08:18:00.001-04:00

How do you capture the colors of my iris--the wonderful blues and purples. So dreamy but also with a definition. This one a Japanese iris--dirago star. Wonderful isn't it? So intense and varied in their subtlety. The colors of the sky. I sketch and resketch the quilt. A simple color progression of light to dark blues above a horizon of teal--or is it green? And then the focus--the "story" of the quilt. That square of fine strips of fabric that echoes the looser pieces of the quilt but makes the quilt pop.

This is new for me. I tried it once with desert solitaire and loved the effect. You can read about it HERE. Now I want to do it again and again. There is something here if only I can discover it. I can see it in my mind's eye but not sure how to realize it yet. Again I want the finely pieced square to echo the quilt with a color progression.

But first I tell myself to make what I know. I piece square after square of the quilt. I want blue with hints of purple. Just that bit of warmth. Not too busy. Just color gradually changing. How long this takes. I must see if the idea is working so I pin up a purple square--it seems a bit lost. Maybe it is because I still have to sew the top row of blocks?

Then I think. Look through the squares I have already pieced. Pillows not yet made. What about that rust-orange? Yes, I have made that top row--that also helps the quilt, doesn't it?

Color pops doesn't it? But the square is too high. The quilt looks like a study in geometry although it is hard to visualize with the blocks not sewn together. Let me lower it.

That looks better. But is it right? Aren't design boards great? What happens if I lower it further?

Yes much better. Amazing how small changes can make such a big difference, isn't it? But is this the right color? What about the lavender purple I had originally thought of?

So different that feeling is, isn't it? So soft and subtle. Yes, that works doesn't it? One more color-- this yellow. Interesting.

Now the square isn't just going to be a solid block of color--it will go from dark to light just like the quilt. No idea how I will piece it into the quilt. First though to make the teal blocks--don't think that will change much. Then on to the square of color.

So what do you think? Lavender, rust or yellow? Will this quilt work? Can I get it done before the Guilford Craft Show next week-end?

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2011-07-06T13:17:00.000-04:00

I had only read about how lovely Louisiana irises were when I saw this Louisiana Black Gamecock iris for sale at my local nursery. For several years it lounged in my garden under the shadow of my roses. I moved it a couple years ago and weeded it with the faith that it might actually bloom. This year it graced me with one lovely intense bloom. I can't wait until next year...

oops I did it again

2011-07-03T15:24:00.000-04:00

I have been hurrying so to finish the new quilt--have you ever done that? Working as hard as I can--totally concentrated and driven. Piece it and sew it together--I want to see the finished work now. I want to get it done before the Guilford Craft Show so customers can react to it. Then I look at it--half sewn together--the colors do not flow as I imagined. Was it really just my choice of fabrics?

Or maybe I sewed a row on upside down. Could I really have been that stupid? Ugh!!!

Now normally I carefully mark the top side of these long rows--but maybe the pin slipped out. It happens. Maybe in my haste I hadn't noticed. Sewing this quilt together is slightly different from my normal procedure because I want the lines of the solid color to be straight. Maybe that is where I made the mistake. It doesn't even matter now does it?

Nothing to do about it though but get out my seam ripper and pick away. UGH!!!! How securely I had sewn those seams. This takes forever. I must use care since I don't want to damage the quilt. Then I flip the row over. Redo my work. Yes, that was the problem. Whew!!!

Finish the quilt. Of course it take forever--well, a lot longer than anticipated. Interesting though. I am enchanted with that very thin line--is it a door? A crack in the earth? Not sure. Maybe the desert concentrated. But a story.

And isn't that what it's about anyway. Shouldn't art be telling a story--even if there are no words to the story? Even if it is not linear? What do you think?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--celebrating 30 years in business

2011-07-01T07:43:00.000-04:00

Wow--can you believe it is July 1 already. How quickly time flies. We are having delightful early summer weather right now (knock on wood). Enough rain that the Siberian iris were absolutely gorgeous in my garden this year. The Japanese iris and daylilies are just starting to bloom and promise quite a show--so many buds waiting to open. It is hard to anticipate the color that will occur. The peas have been plentiful--nothing like eating one's vegetable fresh from the vine. There are lots of little green tomatoes and soon the basil will be ready for pesto. What a summer treat. I do occasionally post pictures of my garden on Facebook if you are curious:
http://www.facebook.com/AnnBrauerQuiltStudio.

This July 1 also marks my thirtieth year in business--can you believe that? When I look back at this incredible journey, I get so thankful for all the wonderful people I have met along the way and the many adventures I have had. Maybe I will reminisce more later. I still must admit though that my favorite quilt is the one I am working on right now--or maybe the one I just finished or plan to start. This is the way it is supposed to be, isn't it?

Meanwhile I will be showing my quilts this year at the Guilford Craft Show on the Town Common in Guilford CT July 14-17. Those who have been to the show know that it is a delightful location with lots of wonderful work under cheerful white tents. Outside but protected. I am in Booth B16. This year they have even added Sunday hours. So if you are in the area, I do hope you will plan to check it out. For further information you can visit their website http://www.guilfordartcenter.org/expo In August I will be doing the Berkshire Craft Show at Monument Mountain High School in Great Barrington, MA and then the American Craft Exposition in Evanston, IL--but more on those shows next month. I hope to be in the studio as much as possible when I am not doing these shows--but do call or e-mail me first if you are coming from a distance.

And now for the quilt of the month....I have decided that this months quilt will be November dawn. Again this quilt is 45 x45 inches. I love the colors in the piece--slightly out of the ordinary. Indeed I love this quilt but it is my 30th anniversary so I should give a gift to my loyal followers. The normal price is $1200 but for the next ten days only it is $600 plus tax and shipping of course. Again there is only one of these quilts--it will be sold on a first come/first serve basis. On July 11 if the quilt is not sold, its price will return to $1200. So--if you are interested, please e-mail me.

Have a great summer--hope you are getting just the right amounts of rain and sun where you live.

And thanks so much for being there.

lost in the weeds again

2011-06-28T15:30:00.000-04:00

Don't you just love it when you get caught in the flow of life? Sometimes it seems that you just do work. Life is just one step--and then another. Then suddenly--inspiration hits. Or at least that is how it seems to me. Recently my life steady. Now there is nothing wrong with steady. I like knowing what I have to do. In the morning I rush to the "garden formerly known as the vegetable garden" and see what's in bloom. Ah a Japanese iris--the anticipation and promise of the furled flower. My daylilies have so many scapes--they will be magnificent this year.

For now I weed and mulch. I never get finished--always more grass that grows. The violets that need to be pulled up. Goldenrod--beautiful but not in the garden. I put the weeds in my basket--they haven't bloomed yet. I can dump them on the compost pile. In a couple years they will be dark rich additions to the soil. How virtuous I feel. Always I get something done. If only I was always this good at weeding--oh well. There is a saying that a Zen student should embrace the weeds.

Then off to finish the big order. Add the binding. Pick the threads. One step just leads to the next. What should I make next? A show I would love to do again writes that they will accept artists who have exhibited previously if these artists can show that they are doing exciting new work.

I love a challenge. What if? Suddenly my mind returns to all the sketches I have made in those quiet moments at shows. Those pieces that I know I want to make--if only I can realize them. I see a theme--a concept. I need five quilts for this show. Maybe a couple that I have already made can be tied in. I'll see how much I can get done. I sketch. Think. Sketch again. There are so many ideas just there--like the flower bud just waiting. Rough sketches. They will flesh out. Open.

And then start. If I think too hard I know I will scare myself. I tell my DH I have a great idea. It may work. I start sewing immediately. Make the one I know the best--let the others follow. The idea is too new to explain even to my DH just yet. I want to get that sound footing--that base from which I fine tune the other quilts. Oh yes, these colors are lovely. Such potential.

Isn't it exciting? Can I get it done? Will the quilts hold together? Does it even matter? Too much to think about. Time to do some more weeding. Relax. Maybe that is the key to inspiration. What do you think? What are your tricks? Can you create a series of works or do they just happen?

living intentionally--what is in bloom today?

2011-06-23T10:42:00.000-04:00

This morning is slow, calm, grey. A bit of drizzle. The hills in the distance are hidden by mist that joins the clouds overhead. It is soft and silent. Still. Focused.

I read an essay by Jane Dunnewold. This time it is called What Matters. How do you live creatively as an artist? The blog post is based on a lecture she gave initially at Confluence--sponsored by the Surface Design Association. Clearly an essay rich with poems and ideas. You can read and re-read it HERE.

Now much of what she says is true--needs to be repeated but we probably know it. Just listen to this--I am sure you are nodding in agreement.

Life happens. Your best intention is to allow it to do so, without getting in the way, and by being constantly present.

True but tough to do. Right. Make your choices as to what is important to you. Practice staying true to these choices. Develop a community and be present in it. But in order to be part of that community we each must develop our own individuality and creativity. Now that needs to be said again and again. Decide what is important in life, practice paying attention to that part of it and eliminate some of the clutter. She suggests:

Cultivate Curiosity.
Try to be surprised by something every day.
Life is a stream of experiences. Swim in it.
Try to surprise someone every day.
Write down these two events.
When something sparks interest - follow it.

Great ideas. Perhaps too much to tackle at once. Can't we try too hard and get discouraged in this pursuit? But isn't it the process of practicing this. Doing one thing every day. Living intentionally. Working toward the Sacred. Avoiding clutter. Isn't this the essence of the struggle toward creativity? As I said this is a complex essay with lots of thoughts--worth reading and re-reading. I can't summarize the whole post--I can't even wrap my mind around it. But that is, I think, okay. It is an essay where you take what you need today and maybe take something else tomorrow.

She concludes with a marvelous poem by Naomi Nye--The Art of Disappearing. You really should read the whole poem. I love it. But for now, just consider the final stanza:

Walk around feeling like a leaf.

Know you could tumble any second.

Then decide what to do with your time.

Isn't that the key to living intentionally? Of taking advantage of your time and your own creativity? Isn't that how we should try to live every day?

Today my garden is in one of those between times--only a few Siberian iris linger. The daylilies have buds, promises of their explosion of color and form that will soon follow. The mist focuses my attention. At first I notice the weeds--how much they love this cool damp weather. The clutter they try to impose. I must weed again soon. But that is not why I am here this morning. I just need to check it out before heading to work.

Then I see it--my first Japanese iris is blooming unexpectedly. Wasabe ute is its name. Isn't it lovely. Flowers dancing floating above the leaves. Tiny raindrops on the petals. So simple and joyous. Just look at those colors and forms. So complex but also so simple. It brings up memories of my images of Japan--a country I have never visited but don't we all have some idea what it should look like. Aren't they wonderful?

With more buds furled--the promise of sky and dance. Hope wound up and concentrated.

And for me this is one of the essences of the living intentionally. The dance of the Japanese iris focused against the mist of the hills. Maybe one can't follow all of the suggestions in her article--great guidelines. But just the act of observing this one flower. Focusing on its joy. Isn't this what the leaf does--observing the present. And you--how do you live a creative life? How do you live intentionally? Do you live like the leaf? And what is in bloom in your garden?

do we also tell the same story?

2011-06-21T11:51:00.000-04:00

Recently I heard a great interview with Ann Patchett on--of course--my favorite public radio station NHPR. Actually I have heard her three times talking about this book--she is definitely getting her work out there. Now you have probably heard of Ms Patchett--she wrote the best selling book--State of Wonder--set in the jungles of the Amazon River. What I noticed was she always tells the same story about her inspiration and research for this book. She did go down to the Amazon for ten days--loved the first three days of her trip and then felt claustrophobic for the remainder of the time. After all in the Amazon you can't just go for a little stroll. Death is just around the corner. No sky to be seen--only trees and more trees.

Indeed as one interviewer, Virginia Prescott of NHPR noted--this sense of claustrophobia is also one of the themes of Ms Patchett's other books--Bel Canto, Run, The Magician's Assistant. You can read more about Ms Patchett HERE. And Ms Patchett who has clearly thought about this question replied--and I paraphrase:

We all have one story to tell.

Interesting statement isn't it? Are we all just going around the same story--the same concept--over and over again from different angles--whether it is the interactions of a small group of people in a confined space--or in my case, the feeling of space and the interaction of color in the landscapes of our memory? Certainly there are lots of authors who have a point of view--think of T.C. Boyle or Anita Shreve--don't you have some idea when you start one of their books what the mood will be? Can't one identify the baskets of a Kari Lonning? Isn't this what is meant by a point of view?

But don't the stories change as a person changes--either because they change technique or have different experiences? Didn't Bob Dylan's stories change as his life changed and he went electric? What about the many stories that Woody Allen tells--sometimes painfully personal, sometimes relaxed into broader explorations?

And how much is pre-ordained and how much the result of telling the story once and then wanting to explore it from a different point of view? Is Ann Patchett destined to write novels about claustrophobia
or could each novel raise questions for the next one? There are so many questions I want to ask. I know that I too have the story that I tell to those who are looking at my quilts. And yet I do change the story as questions are asked and the story evolves so that over time it differs significantly from the original. Yes this quilt views of the dawn is related to prairie sky.

Yes, they are the same story. But such different themes on the same story. Trying to create the feeling of space. A place to go to. Openness and freedom. The play of the colors.

Same theory as the rolling hills. Little short stories in time and space. Each piece teaches me something I will use in the next piece. Indeed I frequently dream of the next piece as I finish the current one. Should I try it in browns? What about greens? Greys? A quieter blue. Always more possibilities than I can possibly make? As Anne Truitt says, the problem is not in designing the next piece but in choosing which of the many pieces she has designed she should actually make.

I remember a discussion I had with a friend of mine Carol many many years ago. She had befriended a woman much older than herself. Carol said the conversations were always fascinating. The older woman said the questions were always the same--even though the answers might be different. Isn't that interesting and telling.

I want to ask Ms Patchett if she finds that the same thing is true. Such an interesting question to muse about. What do you think? Do we all have one story? Does it change over time? Does telling the story over and over again help define the questions? Do the answers change? And how do you choose which questions to ask? Which stories to tell?

The Walrus and the Carpenter

2011-06-17T08:22:00.000-04:00

Recently I have been thinking about the poem by the great Lewis Carroll about the Walrus and the Carpenter. I knew this poem well as a child--haven't thought of it recently. Do you remember it?

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Were walking close at hand;

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand:

"If this were only cleared away,"

They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops

Swept it for half a year.

Do you suppose," the Walrus said,

"That they could get it clear?"

"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,

And shed a bitter tear.

This time it was quoted by the unstoppable Miss Lanny on the Robin of the American Daylily Society. Now I have yet to meet this wonderful lady--and lady she definitely is--but I always look forward to her well thought out posts about life and hybridizing daylilies with her son and his wife--yes, they eloped at a daylily convention--these folks are very passionate and committed. Don't you just love listening to people who know something so well? In this case they breed wonderful winter hardy clear colored daylilies--you can check out here. Isn't the Internet fabulous?

Well Miss Lanny and her family realized they needed to add 130 new daylily beds--remember I said they are passionate about daylilies--and after the marriage they had another hybridizer who needed room for her daylilies. So they ordered 122 tons of crushed stone, four truckloads of compost, lots of good top soil. I forget everythin--it doesn't matter anyway--you get the picture--endless mounds that had to be moved into the new beds--often by wheelbarrow loads into the new beds. Tractors couldn't do many of the tasks. How do you start? One wheelbarrow load at a time.

I was thinking of this when I began sewing the new quilt together. Now I love to make large pieces. The large canvas that can almost encompass the viewer. As I wrote about HERE--size can matter.

But the process of sewing the blocks seems to go on forever. The blocks must be pinned, sewn and the seam covered with a binding which I whip stitch in place as neatly and firmly as possible. Long. Slow tedious work. Speed only causes mistakes. Due deliberation is needed although the work is not mentally challenging. I can't just sit down and finish it--there is only so much hand work I can do in a day. Will it ever end? I try to play mental games with myself--how many inches of sewing do I have left. I listen to the radio. Procrastination does not help. I set goals each day and try not to think about it. I wrote about the process HERE if you want to know more.

But get it done I must. It is time to move on. So I sit there and sew one row at a time. One wheelbarrow load at a time and try not to think about how much more I have to do. Until finally the quilt starts to take shape. Not done yet but progress. Here it is--almost done--a snapshot--hanging over the design board. Two more rows to add at the left. For unlike the Walrus and the Carpenter I do believe that quilts can get done.

And yes Miss Lanny and her family did get all the rocks and sand and compost and mulch moved. And you--how do you get work done? Is it one row at a time? One wheelbarrow load? Or do you work in spurts? As the poem concludes:

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

thoughts on raspberries, compost and--of course--quilts

2011-06-14T08:20:00.000-04:00

June--one of my very favorite times of the year. The garden is alive with color and promise beckoning me outside before and after work. As I weed and plant, I am constantly thinking of new additions. New plans that will make it even better. Shouldn't I move that blue iris over there? What about putting a daylily here? And then there are the raspberries.

Now I confess I love raspberries--so much flavor. Summer in a simple bite. That wonderful rose color. Dessert picked fresh in the garden as the day cools off. Delish!!!

But--and as you have learned--frequently there is a but--my raspberry patch is dieing. The plants become shorter and shorter. And they are in a location where their shoots spread into the asparagus patch. Even invade the Siberian iris. Now that is a problem. With envy I admired the vigorous bright green rows of berries I drove by on my way to the studio.

So when my DH offered to plow up a patch in the meadow for a new berry patch, I leapt at the chance. Finally a berry patch surrounded by grass. The runners could be mowed. I quickly got on the web and ordered three different types of raspberries from Nourse Farms. I wanted raspberries for all seasons. And I knew that the old plants had played themselves out.

Plant in rich deep loam the directions said. Right, I grin. We live on top of a mountain. Now I grew up on the rich soils of Illinois. The soil there went down two, three feet. Lovely and lush. There is a reason my ancestors moved out there. But here, in Massachusetts there is ledge and rock sometimes even on the surface of the soil. It is lovely--the views are great-- but the soil is thin, acidic and rocky.

After my DH removes the sod, I double dig the trench by hand, hacking through the stone, pulling out the rocks and stray roots. Oh this is hard work. I bring in wheelbarrows of soil pushed aside years ago when the meadow was cleared. But still I worry that this is not enough. The soil is not rich. It feels sandy and thin.

In for a dime, in for a dollar. Isn't that the saying? So I go to the local farm store--Shelburne Farm and Garden--and actually purchase bags of organic composted cow manure and lime. Remember I grew up on a farm. Buying bags of cow manure just seems weird--sorry. I spend many hours of my youth shoveling manure out of the barn. I don't know if you understand what a big step this is for me. But if I am going through all this work, shouldn't I give my raspberries the very best start possible? I also buy lime. Lots of lime. I will create good soil.

And that is where this post actually becomes about quilts. (You knew I would get around to it, didn't you?) Sure my grandmother used my dad's long wool pants for the quilts that provided the warmth in the bed though she cut out the holes in the knees. And even during the Depression she insisted on selecting the feed sack cloth for the finer quilts that would decorate the top of the beds. I am convinced that sometimes the chickens ate pig food because the fabric was better.

And shouldn't we, if we are going to spend the time and effort making a quilt, make it using the best materials we can get. Not the discount fabrics that are out there. I tried that ONCE. But that is another story. Isn't it better to do it right?

Meanwhile here is the new raspberry bed. I mulched it with leaves raked last fall. Now I just have to wait until next spring. I can taste them already. What do you think? Do you have raspberries? And what materials are important to you?

what's in a name?

2011-06-09T10:00:00.000-04:00

This time of year, I LOVE iris. Little iris cristata blooming so bravely in the cold. Miniature bearded iris that burst into bright purples and blues, ridiculous yellows--so complete and outrageous. The blue Siberian iris that I plant in masses of sky against the red poppies. And especially the hybridized Siberian and Japanese with lush variations of whites and blue, lavenders and purples. Each filling an unexplained need within me after the greys and browns of early spring. I pore over the catalogs dreaming of new colors. Oh spring has come!!

And in western Massachusetts I scour the local paper hunting for that one iris sale. Each year a local farm opens up for one week-end. I never know which week-end it will be. This is a bit of paradise on earth. Last year I bought more Japanese iris than I could imagine. This year the sale was last week-end. Now Saturday was my birthday. My DH had left at 6:15 to assist his students at the State Middle School Science Fair--never let it be said that teachers don't work hard!!! But that was OK--the iris sale was happening.

I left the house as early as I could to drive up to the sale. What a treat! I was the first person there. The son--who loves to talk iris--was there. I could ask him any question about iris. Learn so much. He showed me the Iris Setosa--a flag iris from Alaska. The Iris Versicolor--a New England flag iris in beautiful lavenders and blues. There was the yellow Siberian he had hybridized. It was hard to remember them all. I made a list in my mind.

As he and his dad were digging my "must-haves", I saw another one--so many subtle colors. What was it? Could I have some? Now when I first started buying iris I didn't care about the names--if it was pretty I wanted it. Until I discovered that I had purchased the same lavender iris three years in a row. As the son said, it proves I know what I like--but still.... So now I try to label all my flowers just so I know. I snapped a picture of the mystery iris.

Exquisite isn't it? Alas the label had fallen off this one. The son is getting some advanced degree and isn't around all the time anymore. He said it was by Schafer-Sacks. Same family as Banish Misfortune, Sun Comes Up, Here Comes Dragons. Aren't those names great? Now I confess I didn't recognize the name Schafer-Sacks though I frequent their web site http://www.jpwflowers.com all the times. Do check it out. Aren't they gorgeous?

I mentioned that I loved Sarah Tiffany--yup, the same breeder. Careless Sally. Again. It turns out Schafer-Sacks had been breeding Siberian iris and got some unusual results. They kept pushing these results until they got some very distinctive iris. Roaring Jelly--yes, I have that one also. Mad Magenta.

What fun the challenge is identifying this iris. I get on the internet. What are the colors of each part of the iris? Oh there is so much to learn. Yes, I think this one is Salamander Crossing. Great name. But then I discover another problem. I have this iris labeled In Full Sail--but In Full Sail is yellow. OK. What can it be? Look at that hint of blue in the center. The many different colors. The prominent veins. The hint of a ruffle. So much to note.

Clearly it is not Sun Comes Up. Look at the different colors. The center here is not white but almost lavender.

Maybe Echo the Sun. Oh so much to learn. I must examine it more carefully. Look at some more pictures. What fun it is. Being forced to pay close attention to detail. Knowing that there is a style--part of a series--but then trying to distinguish it.

Interestingly I receive an e-mail from a fan this week. She had seen my quilt prairie dawn in The Art Quilt Collection. See this really is a blog about quilts--it just sometimes take me a while to get there. Anyhow, her question to herself was why did this quilt look so familiar. After all, she is from Florida. Never seen my work in person. Then she realized that I had also written an article in Threads magazine way back in 1999. She was still making the little purses that I showed in that article. Isn't that cool? I confess her e-mail made my day. Not because I am still making those little purses--I have redesigned them. Nor because I am still making quilts like prairie dawn--I am trying to explore other concepts. But because my quilts are recognizable.

Among all the quiltmakers out there, she knows it is mine. Isn't that great? Isn't that what having a style is all about? Taking a concept and exploring it--seeing where it leads. Not because you can't do other styles--make other pieces--but because there is something very powerful in paying such close attention to detail and pushing the envelope. Schafer-Sacks now have the most wonderful iris in cinnamon and whiskey, a warm rose plum. My wish list is growing. I must find out if their garden is ever open to the public. I really should join my local iris society--maybe they offer tours.

And you--do you work on a consistent style? Do you keep pushing the envelope? Do you even think that is important? And what is your favorite iris?

flowers in the sidewalk

2011-06-06T08:50:00.000-04:00

Sometimes life just happens. Nothing wrong with that. Indeed isn't it those little things that can make a day special? Saturday I was chatting with dear friends of mine whom I hadn't seen since they left for the Everglades last November. Sure I had read about their adventures with alligators and pythons, the trip in a plane skimming over the tall grasses. Their glee in telling of sunshine and warmth--usually they wrote just when they knew we were having yet another snow storm--UGH. I had kept them up to date with tales of snow shoeing in the moonlight. The dainty spring flowers. But in person, conversation just flowed. Laughter. Surprise at his beard. You must know that moment.

Then three women walked into my studio. Nothing wrong with that. The studio is open to the public. I want customers and conversations. It turns out these women were quilt makers. One I had met before--the others just knew of me. They drove up from Connecticut. Girls day out. One of them was carrying a bag. Would I like to see their quilt? Of course. After the decided to visit Shelburne Falls, they wanted me to see the quilt. How special that was. Turns out there were seven of them--they had decided they would make a quilt for each of them when they turned fifty. What a great idea. This one had taken them three years--not working on it all the time. But still trying to make it just right. Not a bed quilt--but a throw. Or maybe a wall hanging. About 3 x 5 feet. Created in blocks. Each one made by a different woman and signed. I presume the recipient is a gardener. I confess I was so busy admiring the quilt I didn't ask.

I loved it. The careful embroidery around the lotus. You must know the words to the song--"inch by inch, row by row..." Wasn't that the theme for this quilt?

The bright wonderful colors in the chili peppers and leeks.

The artichoke--they made sure I looked at the artichoke. And it was delightful.

And the morning glory. I love that carefree feeling of morning glories--catching a bit of that warm summer sky in a flower that stretches up and then covers itself in blue.

The lilies of the valley--brings back so many memories to me. My grandmother's house had a special place under the pine tree. You could pick a dainty handful. Can't you just smell them? A special smell of spring.

There was so much more--poppies and corn, eggplant and pumpkins. A cabbage. The iris. Then they showed me the back. Which said it all.

Flowers growing in the cracks of the sidewalk. And isn't that what friendship is about. Those tiny things we share. Those wonderful memories that just happen in the day to day passage of life. Those bright moments of joy and laughter. Shared experiences that hold us all together. Isn't this one of the reason that quilts are such a powerful form of art? What do you think?

As for me, sometime soon I will go over and visit my neighbors. Maybe have a margherita on the porch. Play penny ante poker--I always lose. And laugh and share stories. Aren't friends wonderful?

the quilts of Ann Brauer--June edition

2011-06-02T13:49:00.000-04:00

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday the weather was hot and so humid you could almost cut the air with a knife. Then line after line of storms came through--hail, lightening, wind and rain. Oh how it poured. Luckily for me, the most severe ones missed us--my heart breaks looking at the pictures of downtown Springfield. So much devastation. Another disaster in a spring of disasters. I am awe struck by the power of Mother Nature.

Meanwhile June for me will be a month of preparation. I am getting two new windows installed in my studio--the first one is already in. I now have screens that I can open. How nice it is. On Saturday June 11 the village of Shelburne Falls will be celebrating Riverfest. As usual, this is a fun event for the entire family. The highlight is the Frog Parade that goes right past my studio. The costumes are fantastic. I should be working in the studio most days so do drop by if you are in town and check out my windows. Of course if you are coming from a distance you might want to contact me first.

I am also busy preparing for craft shows later this summer. July 14-17 I will be doing the Guilford Craft Show in Guilford, CT http://www.guilfordartcenter.com I haven't done this show for a couple of years but I am looking forward again to being on the Town Common. This year they have added Sunday hours. Do check it out if you are in the area. Then in August I will do the Berkshire Craft Show at Monument Mountain High School and the American Craft Exposition in Evanston. Both should be great and I will tell you more about them next month or you can check the listings on my web site.

After some thought I decided that the June Quilt of the Month is "red sky on the hill". I love this piece. It is a bright and cheerful portrayal of the sky at sunrise--or is it sunset--against the darkening hills. The quilt is 45 x 45 inches. Normally it is $1200 but it will be $500 plus tax and shipping until June 10. As usual, there is only one quilt and it will be sold on a first come/first served basis so e-mail me if you are interested. The colors are just a bit brighter than this image. Do note the little hints of stars and sky in the quilt.

that first block

2011-05-31T08:37:00.000-04:00

I keep telling myself that a big quilt begins one block at a time--isn't that some old Chinese saying--or maybe it is from Aesop. Not even sure if it matters. But sometimes it is so hard to just start. What if I can't remember how to make the quilt? What if the colors are wrong? It is harder because it is such a large custom order. Sometimes I can make a custom quilt twice--but this piece is too large for that. It must be right the first time.

As you may remember I have an order for a large quilt for a wonderful room--cozy but open. Dreamy. I wrote about it HERE. The test quilt grows and grows on me. When will it reach the sky? A friend suggests I call it--the stars of August. Great title, isn't it? I love this piece with its optimism and bright colors. I was definitely reaching for the joy of the blue skies that finally came.

Of course the colors are wrong for the order. Far too bright. Blues and reds just don't work in the room. I knew that when I made it. I wanted to explore the potential of the design--see how the rows grow and interact--while still keeping the concept fresh for the wonderful dreamy room where new quilt will live. I had created the design this winter. Even made a wonderful large quilt based on it. But there was so much I didn't know about making this particular quilt. How do the elements interact? What are the possibilities? The variations? I remember how Hamada said each pot took him a lifetime to create. Isn't the same true for quilts?

I buy more fabric--that is the easy part of the research. The fun part. Arrange it in color progressions in the studio. Is this too warm? Too bright? I sit back and squint. Try to imagine the colors in the room.
This is also easy to do. I contemplate it as I do some hand sewing.

I get out the sheet of samples I sent the client. Neatly taped to a piece of paper for her approval. Of course I kept a copy. Think some more. Rearrange the fabrics. Again I go through the digital images of the space that are stored on a folder in my computer. Had I remembered the colors of the wood? So many subtle variations. The detail in the other artwork. I don't want to dominate but to coordinate and accentuate. That is the hardest part. There is more grey here. The dreaminess of mist and smoke. The softness of stone. Maybe that is the solution.

I rearrange. Pull out new fabrics. Think. Wake up at five in the morning. Yes, this works. My studio is such a mess. Piles of fabric everywhere. I put away fabrics that I know won't work but still I need this "clutter". Sometimes clutter can be useful. I squint one last time. Then tell myself I absolutely must start this quilt now. I need to get it done regardless of my fears.

I cut out the back of the first block. The cotton batting. So blank and empty looking at me on the cutting mat. Almost taunting isn't it?

I sort through the fabric and cut small strips in the colors that may work. Neat little piles to add to the quilt. I remember that the first blocks on the test quilt looked dark. The design did not begin to pop until I had several blocks. Then I will have to control the progression to keep it subtle and dreamy. I know it may want to go blue but I won't let it. I clean the sewing machine. Put in a new needle. Wind a bobbin. Drink some coffee and take a deep breath. The journey must begin.

And you--how do you begin a new project? Do you also find that the first block can be the hardest? How do you warm up? Or do you even think about it?

if you want to write....

2011-05-25T10:38:00.000-04:00

A couple days ago I was listening to a great interview on the Diane Rehm Show. This time it was with the novelist Edna O'Brien. Now I must confess that while I had heard her name--I knew almost nothing about her or her work. Sure I must have seen it in passing--but recently I haven't been reading that many novels. But of course Diane is so considerate and thoughtful, I had to pay attention.

I learned that she is an Irish novelist known for her books that explore the inner lives of women and her memories of growing up Catholic in Ireland. She wrote her first novel The Country Girls in the course of three weeks--only to have it banned by the Irish clergy. Indeed her own mother had taken a black pencil to the copy that Edna had given her and crossed out all the obscenities. Fascinating story and wonderful use of language. You can check out the interview HERE.

Now listeners can call in during parts of the show and ask the guests questions. Of course there was the inevitable question from an aspiring author who wanted advice on how to write a novel and get it published. Edna's advice was so succinct and perfect:

If you want to write, write.

Simple. But not easy. Basically the equivalent of that slogan we all know-- "Just do it." Don't write for others, don't write assuming that you will get published. Just write. Put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard as the case may be. Just do it.

At lunch that day I was leafing through my latest copy of American Craft. There was an interesting editorial by Monica Moses--the new Editor-In-Chief--in which she also discusses the desire that we all have to make things. Indeed she hypothesizes that customers come the the American Craft Shows in part because they want to live vicariously through the work of different craft artists. They want to think that they can make something like what they are seeing. She advised the readers to actually take the time to make something. Take a class at Haystack. Use your hands.

Now if I stopped writing this post here, everyone would agree with me. Great idea, Ann. Yes, we should all make something. And quite frankly I do agree that we need that pleasure of creating things by hand. Indeed I wrote about that very concept in my post and the power of the hand HERE.

But--and you knew there would be a big BUT--we also need to look at the work of the many fine craftspeople as also being art. It is not just the fact that they are making something with their hands, but also the fact that the art they are making can take us to a new and different place. Give us new insight into how we perceive the world around us. Startle us. Amaze us.

When I go to the opera, I do not think that I could be on stage singing that aria. No, I marvel at the subtle range of emotion that the voice can convey from the softest whisper to the greatest tumults of human emotion. When I hear the symphony perform Mahler, I get taken to a deep place within me--emotions that don't have names are stirred within me. When I walk across the Bridge of Flowers in Shelburne Falls, I don't think that my garden can look like that.

And when I go to a fine craft show or a gallery or a museum, I don't think I can make that a sophisticated glass vase like my neighbor Ed Branson does that dances into the thinnest of points. I don't think I can create the complex woven baskets of my friend Kari Lonning that create spaces of the imagination inside and out. I don't even think how to recreate the simple but complex quilts of Erin Wilson, even though I might have the technical skills to do that. But I don't have her vision, her sense of color and design, her originality in the countless designs she creates. Instead I enjoy the sweep of color and the intricate possibilities that she conveys.

Yes, we do need to make things--whether it is craft or cooking or gardening or whatever--but I think that we also have to allow ourselves to go beyond that feeling of doing it yourself to maintain that awe of what the human spirit can accomplish. How much one person can explore the intricacies of the human emotion and condition by delving deep into their own selves?

As Edna O'Brien said, write if you want to write. Write for yourself and see what happens. If you want to make a craft, take a class, learn the skills, do it. Enjoy yourselves. But don't let that interfere with your appreciation and marvel at the human potential. At least that's my two cents, I would love to hear what you think.

testing 1--2--3--4

2011-05-23T10:31:00.000-04:00

Sometimes all I can do is make the quilt, Ann. Start sewing. Too much thought is not going to help. You see this time I have an order for a large quilt similar to endless fields. Maybe you remember this quilt--I made it during the winter and wrote about it HERE and HERE and HERE. Now I love this piece, simple and elegant. Thinking of the fields stretching into the horizon off into the unknown. I love the potential of those horizons, those dreams. The thoughts of that place out there. My photographer called this piece "regal". Elegant. I'll take that as a complement.

But alas--endless fields is the wrong colors for the room. Now it is the sweetest room--overlooking the woods. Great art in the room. Simple and cozy. Tucked away. It needs a happy quilt. Lighter and less dominant. More summery but not too much green--she doesn't want too much green. And I want the quilt to be absolutely wonderful--the customer is so wonderful herself--I want it to echo her lovely personality.

So I have to rethink the quilt. Now sometimes I can just see in my mind's eye what a quilt will look like. I can picture it in the room just like that. It's fun. But this time I am not sure. There is so much potential here--but can I get the colors to progress without too much green? I play with the fabrics. Arrange them on the cutting table. Step back. Re-arrange them. Hmm. I could do this a long long time. But I must make progress on the quilt--I have been thinking about it long enough.

Time to make a test piece. Maybe even two. See what happens. Learn the potential of this pattern. Oh how I dislike those discussions wanting me to always make something new. I want to learn from what I have done and push the designs--but that may be a different blog post. Instead I start. Of course it seems really dark at first. I remember the same feeling in the first quilt. Lovely colors but dark.

It is nice to be working in a smaller piece. Let's me try out the ideas without sewing for days and then finding out it's not right. Then I have to stop and think. Green to teal is easy. But teal to blue is harder. I put up different test fabrics. Which color works? I step back and squint. Think. Start.

Not bad--it may be a bit bright. I keep going. Is the blue too strong? Should I have tamped down the other colors? What will happen when it is sewn together?

I remember in endless fields it was only the last row or two that tied the work together. Will it be the same for this quilt? Did I allow myself enough room for the change or should I make the test piece longer? Should I just go browns and greys? So many questions. I must piece some more. See what happens and then insert the quilt in the room in my mind's eye. So much to do. So exciting to see what happens.

What do you think? Do you ever try test pieces? Will the light colors at the top--the ones not pieced yet--tie the quilt together? Or is it just a test piece?

learning to make music

2011-05-17T11:34:00.000-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I heard another wonderful story on NPR--it was an obituary for the cellist Bernard Greenhouse. Now I confess that I didn't recognize his name--although I must have heard of him. After all he was a member of the Beaux Arts Trio for many years. Then he had a solo career. As the story reminded us, he could have been the only person living to have played cello for almost nine decades. Pretty amazing isn't that. At age eight he decided to become a cellist. OK--that takes determination. Studied under Pablo Cassals. Now that is someone I have heard of--you probably know that name too. Although his eyesight was failing, he played the cello every day. Not to learn new music but just to keep his skills. Then three weeks ago, he stopped. Playing the cello became too hard for him at age 95--or was it 96.

Already a great story but what I remembered most was his teaching. As he put it, and I paraphrase, his goal was not too teach his students to play the cello but to make music. Think about it. Being so sensitive to possibilities of the notes and music that you can convey the emotions that you want to with it. The interview was wonderful--check it out HERE.

I think about that concept as I work on a grey rolling hills. Now I confess I love the color grey. Not the grey with the silver tones. Too harsh and distant for me. But the grey that goes into taupe. Just that hint of warmth there. The uncertainty of the colors that convey memories of the mist and dirt. Subtle colors that must be read and studied. One at a time.

I made a study in grey a few weeks ago. Look at that definition and rhythm. So many colors put together. Even the blacks have bits of color in their creation if you look carefully. This study was more to the mauve colors. Oh how I love the subtleties of the fabric.

The rolling hills will be a bit different. More free form. Little scenes of the hills. Not the pinks. Just the hint of yellow. A little more of the taupe.

Don't you love the look of the clouds. This fabric was actually meant to be smoke for a train engine.
That hint of taupe. How do you define it? So sophisticated and subtle. Tiny bits of green in the this color. And the blue--oh the faintest of the blue. Can't be too strong for this piece. I love making quilts where I must use this control and knowledge. This is what makes it fun for me.

Isn't this like making music? Knowing the subtle details. Paying careful attention to what you have done and using it to decide what you will do while always remembering the whole that is intended.

I think of this as I remember the interview. Learning to sew is one thing but making music is another. Isn't that the essence of art? Choosing each piece of fabric carefully--the size, the color, the designs and putting it into the quilt just right so that it looks like it just happens.

What do you think? Have you heard any great interviews recently? How do you learn to "make music"?

complicated, complex, complete

2011-05-15T19:17:00.000-04:00

Maybe it was the buds on my lilacs. Or the last greys on the hill across from my studio waiting for the explosion of green. Was I saturated with forsythia? Or was it the drizzle that morning? Does it even matter? I sort through my fabrics hunting for inspiration. A new quilt to make to fill the empty spaces on my studio walls. You must know that time in between projects--before I begin the next big quilt.

I have a vision--a quilt in those off colors of reds and mauves, greys and taupes. Warm but not bright. Haunting in the complexity. There is something about those colors without names--those tertiary colors made with a bit of grey, some blue, just a tad of yellow. You know the ones--you see the paint chips with the complex formulas. The prints--just so perfect and complete.

Interesting words--complex, complicated, complete. Similar and yet so different. The prefix com just means with. That's simple. "Complex" from the French to weave, braid or twine. Perfect word for fiber isn't it. "Complicated" is from the Latin--folded, confused, intricate. That makes sense also. You can check it out here. But "complete"--also from Latin--means to fill, fulfill, finish as in complete the legions. You can check it out here. Isn't English fun?

The fabrics I buy for my challenges--often not sure what I will do with them. "But they look so great together," I tell myself. "I know they will work." And then they sit there--sometimes for years. This wonderful complex feather fabric. Just a slight hint of metallic. What was I thinking when I bought it? I don't even remember. I know I have used it--there is only a quarter yard left. Usually it is at the bottom of the pile--but this time it will be perfect, I think.

I pulled out the mauve and pale blue. So sophisticated. I just bought it--maybe last fall. I wasn't sure what I would do with it even then. I know I thought about it for a week or two but I just had to have it. I haven't used any of it yet. Pulled it out a couple of times but it wasn't quite right. This time it will work. Looks like it belongs to royalty. The print that looks like a batik but it is not. So soft in its colors. I have used just a bit of it--too soft for most of my quilts--but this time...

Rolling hills is just perfect for these colors. I have that long narrow spot in my studio that needs something. I know these pieces sell. But will it work with these colors. I piece a couple of blocks. Interesting how the prints work in this design. Do you see how the feather fabric works?

I like that bit of soft yellow. Oh this is fun. Using all those fabrics that have just been sitting there. The blocks become greater the more I make.

Not bad. These colors are interesting. I sew it together. Finish it. Haunting isn't it? Complex colors.

Maybe now I will make one in greys and taupes. See what happens in colors that are almost no color--if you know what I mean. What do you think? Do you ever just have to work in certain colors even if you don't know the names for them?

expressivity--why some performances of Mozart are brilliant

2011-05-11T12:47:00.000-04:00

Recently there was an interesting comment on the Studio Art Quilt Association forum--not a major discussion but a post by a beginning quilt maker trying to find her way to become an artist. She put forward a couple of interesting questions--does a quilt by an experienced quilt maker deserve to have a greater value than one made by a beginner? How does one even determine value? Is art good or bad based on its own merits? I had some gut feelings but how to answer them. I tried to wrap my mind around these questions.

Certainly I wouldn't hire a plumber or car mechanic who was "just practicing". I want my lawyer to know what he or she is doing. I could go on. Do you want to fly on an airplane with a pilot who is just practicing?

But maybe art is different. Now as a step-mom I have sat through many school band performances enjoying them because I love the participants but... You must know that feeling. Probably just like me, you made your parents sit through similar performances. There is justice here. Of course there have been local productions that have touched me--I am still remember a version of The Story of Anne Frank in our local town hall. A young friend of mine was Meep. Though a few lines were mis-spoken, clearly there was an emotion conveyed that reached the audience. And I do love to see the quilts made by friends. The ones made by my other grandmother. The quilts that I see proudly displayed at various quilt guilds. But I love them for the effort and the raw emotion and not for their "art". Isn't there a difference between the local theater and a Broadway production? Isn't there a reason we go to museums to see the Monets and O'Keefes? Think of the details of a Jackson Pollock--so many more layers than the many imitators.

As I ponder the question as to what the difference is, I catch a great interview by Robin Young on Here and Now. Don't you love how much information is on NPR? In this interview she was discussing the concept of expressivity with Daniel Levitin. What a wonderful word that is, isn't it? Apparently he was the author of a best selling book Your Brain on Music though I had not heard of him or his book. Shame on me. It was a great discussion based on such wonderful research. The question was why are some performances of Mozart brilliant and others just ho-hum. After all they are all based on playing the same notes in the same order for the same amount of time. Or are they?

Using an electronic keyboard, the same piece was played just as it was written and also by an experienced pianist. The difference was astounding. The first one sounded like student work. Very boring and methodical. In the second one, it turned out the pianist--I forget who it was--made very slight changes--often by only a few thousandths of a second in terms of the length of the notes and the spacing between them. This was the human touch which made it art. A third time the computer exaggerated these differences by 50%. Oh that was too much. I was glad to learn that the majority of listeners agreed on that. You can hear some of the variations of music and the discussion HERE.

Isn't that fascinating confirmation of the importance of the human touch? Style and emotion. But isn't it more than just the human touch? Isn't there a sureness to the great works that communicates to us? So many slight differences. Knowing when to tweak the music. Isn't it the same with quilts. Those careful selections of fabric and color. The little changes to the design. That point of view of the artist. Isn't that we love some quilts because they are made by those we love and we love other quilts because they are expressive?

And doesn't this answer some of the questions of the beginning quilt maker on the SAQA forum? OK--my two cents. Did you hear that interview? What do you think about expressivity? And do you have a favorite performer of Mozart?

how do you like your forsythia?

2011-05-09T07:58:00.000-04:00

Last week--as if by magic--finally there were forsythia. Those wonderful burst of gold and yellow, glowing in the sunlight. Statements of spring and warmth. Glowing orbs against the tender green of the grass. Wisps of yellow in the woods. On the way home from the studio there is a row of forsythia carefully pruned into spheres of color. So wonderful. Such a lovely statement of color and hope.

I heard on--of all places--Car Talk--that forsythia is actually named after William Forsyth. Now you must know those car guys--Click and Clack--so funny but sometimes you need to take them with a grain of salt, if you know what I mean. Time to do a bit of research. Amazingly there actually was a William Forsyth--he was the director of the Chelsea Physic Garden in Great Britain and first used forsythia in 1770. One of the founders of the Royal Horticultural Society. The plant was discovered in China by Robert Fortune--what a wonderful name that is. Later other species were found--there are actually 11 different varieties mainly from eastern Asia. There is an entire website devoted to forsythia--you can find it HERE. On Wikipedia I learn that forsythias are part of the olive family HERE.

Oh how I love these splashes of color. Each year I dig up the sprouts and plant them at the edge of the woods. The entrance to our driveway. On the hill overlooking the house. Wonderful celebration. I try to think of spring without forsythia. My mother had a plant that never really bloomed--of course she pruned it in August or September--not a good idea. But my grandmother had a lovely bush--I knew the color and the joy. I knew what we were missing by not having the forsythia.

But what if you had never seen a forsythia? I wonder about Europe before it was discovered--would Bruegel's peasants have seen forsythia in the distant manors? Would forsythia have surrounded the cathedrals? Would the Unicorn have frolicked in a grove of forsythia? Oh my mind can wander. Just think if the Pilgrims had seen forsythia. Enough already, Ann.

I read a wonderful design blog--the writer has found it hard to post recently. Nothing inspires her in the dreariness and sameness of her life until finally she realizes the need for bold splashes of color. And suddenly feels alive. You can read it HERE. Isn't it true how color can make us feel alive? Isn't that the secret of forsythia?

And I think of my quilts. In spring I want bright colors. Splashes of gold and yellow. Warmth and new life and my mood rises.

And you--do you have forsythia? How do colors affect your moods? What colors do you work with in the spring?

...to be simple

2011-05-04T10:28:00.000-04:00

Recently I have been thinking a lot about the concept of simplicity. You must know that wonderful Shaker song--"tis a gift to be simple..." What a wonderful song. Just read some of these words:

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

Aren't they fabulous? Did you know that it was actually composed by Elder Joseph Brackett in 1848 as a dancing song? The things one learns on Wikipedia--fascinating. But what is simplicity? I want to ponder this more.

I read in a collection of food writings--(oh I love to read good writing about food. Not only does it take me to a different place--and sometimes make me hungry--but let's face it--good food is both craft and art also)--but I digress: anyhow in this particular essay Monica Bhide asks "Does a Recipe Need to be Complicated to be Good?" Great question. She has written a cookbook on Indian food--OK I'm hungry already--and explains that a reader complained that her recipe was too "simplistic." Note, the complaint was not that the food didn't taste good--it did--but that it was too easy to make. Oh I like that--I don't have time to cook if you know what I mean.

Let me continue, as Monica explains, simple does not mean easy. It takes years of experience, "guts--and culinary prowess" to cook it just right. After all with few ingredients, there is "no place to hide." Now she hastens to point out, that by simple she does not mean dumbing a recipe down. Instead she takes the best ingredients--the perfectly ripe tomato, the freshest spices and the right techniques. After all, she points out that if you have the perfect clove of cardamon, why would you want to add flavors to "muck it up"? Her words--not mine but doesn't it make sense. Her website is HERE and the essay is in Best Food Writing 2010 edited by Holly Hughes--a delightful book to pick up when you need that quick break.

I think of a recent e-mail I received from a friend. She wrote that she was trying to unclutter her life. To turn off the radio and the TV news. To concentrate on that which is important to her. Essential to her being. The mist rising from the hills. The tender green of the maples. Music. Conversation. Time in her studio. How wonderful and true that feels. How I admire her guts to do this.

Isn't there so much here for all of us? How easy it is for me to get carried away with technique and design of my quilts. Can I add just a bit more detail here? What about this block over here? Maybe I should add a few stitches here? Another color progression there? I know there have been times in my journey that I have been more concerned with technique than truth and I have to pull back. How hard it is to do this. If you make a quilt with just a few colors, the colors have to be just right. The simpler the design the more must be contained with in it so that the meaning will unfold upon further examination. Layers of meaning and richness. But so controlled. So practiced. Simple is not easy.

And you--do you work simply? Do you think this is important? Do you ever try to unclutter your life? And does this Shaker dance song ever float through your being? Do you ever come round right?

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come 'round right

the quilts of Ann Brauer--it's May!!!

2011-05-02T08:03:00.000-04:00

Suddenly it seems it is May. The snow is gone--finally. There is an energy here--I think of it as a time of preparation. Little green leaves on the trees. Peas peeking up in my garden in somewhat straight rows. (My cats do "help" with the planting--oh well.) I want to work in the bright blues of May. The yellows of forsythia. The tender greens of the lawn. And the purples of my lilacs. Every day seems new. Such excitement and hope at this time of year.

I have begun filling out my schedule of shows for the rest of the year with this same sense of excitement and hope. This summer I will be returning to three of my favorite shows--the Guilford Craft Show in July and the Berkshire Craft Show and American Craft Expo in Evanston in August. I am so looking forward to all of them. You can see the complete list of shows on my website at http://www.annbrauer.com So I will be in the studio working to finish a few orders and make lots of new quilts and smaller accessories for these shows.

It was rather obvious to me my quilt may sun should be the quilt special of the month. This quilt was made as a sample way back in 2006. It is 48 x 48 inches and was originally priced at $1080. The colors in the image are not as true as they could be since I took the picture myself. There are bright blues, yellows and some greens. For this special the quilt is $500 plus tax and shipping. Just like in other specials this is offered on a first come/first serve basis. The offer will be withdrawn on May 10 so if you are interested please e-mail me directly.

One of the new items I have been working on is a new variation of my little purses. These are about 8 x 8 inches with a thin strap for hanging. The back is a solid pieced black. The purses are all cotton. I love the feel of the thin strips of cotton on the front and the intense and wonderful colors that I can create. Right now I have three different styles--a solid color, a color progression and purses with contrasting colors. What do you think? Which works best? I would love to hear. The purses are $60 and there are a few more on my web site under small works.

Well, that's enough for now. I hope to see some of you in my studio. The Bridge of Flowers is lovely at this time of year. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions. And do enjoy the season.

written in the hand

2011-04-27T07:31:00.003-04:00

Recently I was asked to sew sleeves to two quilts made by Phyllis Kirkpatrick. Now I first became aware of her work way back when I was starting my career and did the Ashfield Fall Festival. I loved her simple designs based on traditional designs and her fine attention to detail and fabric. I was saddened to hear by word of mouth that she is no longer making quilts. So it was with delight and awe that I examined her work today.

Yes, it still held up. Her piecing was exquisite. Remember, she was piecing before paper piecing was discovered. She used scissors not a rotary cutter. And the fabrics back then were very different from the cottons we know today. But-ah-the designs. Here is one--a simple mosaic--about 37x37 inches.

I don't know the name of the pattern in the center--do you?

But I loved the detail. Look at the piecing around the edge. So simple and perfect. Remember the entire quilt is 37x37 inches. Don't you just love the flow of the hand quilting?

The other quilt was based on diamonds. Again look at the overall design. Simple, complex and elegant. The quilt is alive with the various patterns that the diamonds form.

Again the piecing is exquisite. See how sharp the corners are. Each one carefully outlined with hand quilting stitches. Isn't it amazing how fabrics have changed?

And the hand quilting--again simple and elegant. The feeling that this is a quilt to be respected and honored.

This got me to thinking about the importance of the hand and hand work. I went back to the NPR show On Being and the interview with Renate Hiller--a spinner and the co-director of the Fiber Craft Studio in Chestnut Ridge, NY. As she said“Our destiny is written in the hand.” The process of working by hand, she says, grounds us and changes us so that it becomes a spiritual practice. It is a way of connecting with that which is essentially human and meditative. Indeed she says it becomes a way for being healing to our world. And it’s a service for the divine that we are surrounded by.

Take a moment to think about the importance of that statement. Working with your hands as being a service for the divine. What importance is put upon it. What significance. You can see and hear the interview HERE.

Now I will be the first to agree that we all have to find our own ways of working with our hands. Certainly there are quilts that are made for the simple need of warmth. There are quilts that are made to show your care to cover a person. There may even be quilts made simply to relax from our long tedious days. I will be the first to admit that I frequently clean my house with "a lick and a promise." I can throw meals on the table with the best of them. And I do know that I have my critics who think I am a "quilt snob" because I do think that craftsmanship is important.

But shouldn't we also have at least one place in our lives where we make something with our entire spirit and essence? Shouldn't we sometimes slow down and make quilts with the determination to do the best we can? Isn't the search for fine craftsmanship important? And isn't that the lesson of the quilts of Phyllis Kirkpatrick?

OK--that is my two cents. I would love to hear from you. What do you think? What do you do to ground yourself? Do you have one thing where you try your best?

are you where you should be?

2011-04-25T10:13:00.000-04:00

To get to the garden is not easy nor is it difficult, but it is an
experience. The big problem is a psychological one of wondering if you're
really where you should be. Once this feeling is overcome you begin to
relax and enjoy the serenity of the drive.

Isn't that absolutely beautiful? How true it is--let me repeat it--the biggest problem is a psychological one of wondering if you're really where you should be.

The article continues: .....The journey is short, but if it is your first time it may seem long.
The road is narrow.....

When you get there the garden is informal, easy to look at, and belies the fact that a hybridizer is at work.

These comments came from a visit that Bill Munson made to Solano Grove--the garden of Vera McFarland near St Augustine. It is from *The Hemerocallis Journal*, December
1973, pages 33-36, and was written by Bill Munson. I read it on the Daylily Robin which is open to all members of the American Hemerocallis Society. Both Bill and Vera were well-known and respected hybridizers. I put more of the article at the end of the post. The writing is gorgeous. And yes, I am glad to be a member of AHS.

I think about these words of the visit as I contemplate the winter that is now passing. It was a long hard winter here. The snow came and lasted. Mud season went on and on. Many mornings I had to hike down the hill to my van and then hike home in the afternoon. It was cold. More cold. Then more snow.

For my quilts it has also been a season of self-doubt and exploration. New works. Endless trying and learning. Some worked well--I love the pillows and purses. The eyeglass cases. You can see some HERE. Others are ideas not there yet--still waiting. A slow process of creating quilts that are true. Agonizing and squinting. The journey seems long. The road narrow.

Last week I visited my in-laws by the ocean. As you may remember it was a cloudy misty time--memories ebbing and flowing with the tides. The clouds hung so low and thick there was no direction to the day. I wrote about it HERE.

When I returned I had to settle--to make a quilt. A quilt of this time of mist and mystery. Soft colors-- hints and undercurrents. Slight slow movement. The calm and mystery. The ocean was gentle. The visit was gentle. The colors came together simple and sure. Complex colors that combine for a story. A mood of longing and remembering. Soft and gentle. Informal. Belying the struggles and thought in its creation. Almost done. Then I will sew it together.

Gorgeous colors aren't they? Simple and haunting. I love it when a piece works. This is what I do. This is my journey and path. It looks simple but it is not always easy. The forsythia will bloom today. There are daffodils and crocuses. Little fans of daylilies are nudging out of their slumber. The deep reds of Highland Lord--hybridized by of course Bill Munson. I can't wait.The layers of purple and mauve with the green/yellow eye of Pharoah's Treasure--you can see it HERE. Aren't the names divine? I go to Flickr and find pages of images of his daylilies--just like his writing, simple and complex. I want them all. Do check them out HERE. I don't have any daylilies by Vera McFarland--maybe I need "Frivolous Frills" or "Super Double Delight". But does that even matter. Spring is coming. The quilts are coming together. I am where I should be. Is there any more to ask from life?

And you--are you where you should be? How do you know? How do you decide? What do you think of the quilt? And is it spring finally where you live?

For those who want to read more of the article--here it is from the Daylily Robin. If you like flowers I strongly recommend joining AHS--couldn't ask for a nicer group of people.

"Solano Grove is west of St. Augustine on the east bank of the St. John's
River. The only major landmark to guide your turn from the State Road 13 is
an over-sized mail box. Once the mailbox is found you stop and open a gate
and start your journey to the Grove....."

The peacefulness of the following description of Vera McFarland's Solano
Grove appealed to me today. It is from *The Hemerocallis Journal*, December
1973, pages 33-36, and was written by Bill Munson. But I have put only a
few excerpts from the first two pages. All that follows is quoted:

.....To convey the picturesque beauty of this unique garden spot would take
the touch of a poet. For this garden is unique. It blends the natural
beauty of the hammock land with the gardening philosophy of its owner,
planner and keeper, Vera McFarland.

.....The majestic oaks, the silent river, the cascading Spanish moss, the
forest birds all exemplifying the quietude that was once so much a part of
our lives and now gone, but experienced again at Solano Grove. Only the
unwelcome intrusion of a motor boat on the river or a jet high above the
canopy of the trees betrays the 20th Century harangue.

To get to the garden is not easy nor is it difficult, but it is an
experience. The big problem is a psychological one of wondering if you're
really where you should be. Once this feeling is overcome you begin to
relax and enjoy the serenity of the drive.

.....The journey is short, but if it is your first time it may seem long.
The road is narrow..... Wild turkey and quail can often be seen as you
drive along. Cross a small rustic-type bridge and enter a small cleared
area and you know at once you are at Solano Grove.

The river is on your right only a few yards away. The hammock is on your
left even closer, and straight ahead is a grove of oaks whose canopy of
limbs, leaves, and Spanish moss shelter the garden below. The garden is
informal, easy to look at, and belies the fact that a hybridizer is at work.

Large drifts and mass plantings of daylilies abound. The soil is sandy, but
rich and the water level generally high. Several times during the year low
portions of the garden may be under water. Because of this Vera is forced
many times to plant on raised beds or rows. But whatever the conditions the
flowers love it here.

Small chameleon and garden spiders watch as you enter their world. Time
seems to have stood still and the silence engulfs you.

Soon Vera joins you and is effervescent over a new seedling that has
bloomed.....

in-laws and the colors of the ocean

2011-04-22T11:11:00.003-04:00

Ah in-laws. An experience in patience and understanding. Kind loving people all trying so hard to help the aging. The aging trying to retain their pride and independence. So many subcurrents swirling in stories that only reveal parts of themselves each time they are told. The emphasis changing as the mood changes and the audience changes. Events remembered only in the mists of the past. I watch and assist--trying to capture threads of solid ground and truth. The rhythms of the stories. The search for truth. Stories that I as an outsider--but also family--hear and try to find the meaning of.

I come from a small family. Grounded in the prairies of the Midwest. I can express the power of the sky and the strength of the dirt. This I know intuitively.

But the house of my in-laws is on a river by the ocean. There are many siblings. Many stories. This is not the bright vast ocean of the summer. Blue and endless. Dreams and hope. Light dancing off the waves. Promise and sureness. Understandable.

But the ocean of April--misty. Fog clinging to the shore. A slight chill. The sound of the waves on the shore. Harder for me to absorb but still beautiful. An occasional fisherman anchoring the space between the water and the sky.

Distant shores hint at a solidness and hope.

It has been a long slow spring. The salt marshes still taupe with last year's growth. Pools of water stretching out and waiting. A snowy egret in the distance.

The sound of the tide swirling out. Slowly. This is Rhode Island. The tides not high and dramatic like Maine but constant and gentle. There is a quilt here in this softness and mystery. These colors both so soft and so complex. Soothing but deep. There is a quilt in these stories.

But how to capture it? How to capture the mood and the feeling. The sadness of the aging. The swirling stories of families. I pull out my fabrics. The gentle greys and taupes. The dusty greens and blues. Soft colors. Calm colors. How to do this?

And you--what inspires you and the ocean? How do you capture the colors of the fog and mist? This intense quiet and stillness.

simple but not easy

2011-04-18T10:31:00.000-04:00

Recently I received this e-mail from a reader.

I *love, love, love your quilts!
I want to make one. A small piece of one...... More than one square.... I know that it has probably taken you years and years and years to develop your technique and style. I also know that an eye is not easily developed, but takes lots of practice. I'm not even pretending to think I can create the art you are creating, but I would love to learn the technique... I understand basic quilting as you go. It appears each smaller block has *both* batting and backing attached before they are connected to the next. I can possibly envision the vertical piecing of the smaller blocks. But the horizontal blocks I am struggling to understand how they are attached. Is this a trade secret? Is it just best, for me, to just jet off and see one in person? LOL! If nothing else, I just *need* to know!!!!
You do beautiful, beautiful work, Ann. I love it all!

Sweet isn't it?

Now the author is right--the style has taken me years and years to develop. However, the technique is actually very simple. I even wrote about it last year. Now if I was an organized blogger I would create a page with the directions--and maybe I will. But for now let me just reference the blog posts.

First of course I design the quilt and make sure I have fabrics that will work for the piece. My two favorite fabric stores are The Textile Company in Greenfield, MA which I wrote about HERE in my post Confessions of a Fabricoholic. Since writing that post they have changed their closing time to 5 except on Friday when they close at 8. The other store is A Notion to Quilt which I wrote about HERE. And yes it was called More Confessions of a Fabricoholic--can you relate? Of course if I am doing a show in another location I do check out other fabric stores--can one actually have too much fabric?

Then I begin piecing the quilt using a method I call "quilt as you go." HERE is an illustrated blog post of how I pieced the quilt desert hills.

I piece the quilt in blogs--and then join the blogs together. HERE I wrote a blog post with more pictures as to how I finish the quilt.

As you can see, the technique is simple--but not necessarily easy. This is not a pattern but directions for a technique that you can make your own. Certainly care is required throughout--create a design that interests you. Practice working with the colors to figure out the effect that the colors and fabrics have on each other. Keep your sewing machine clean and in good working order--after all, you will be seeing the back of the block so you want it to look good.

And perhaps most importantly--have fun!! After all life is too short not to have fun. So what do you think--does this answer some of your questions? Have you tried this technique--I would love to see pictures.

a butterfly flapping its wings

2011-04-16T10:04:00.000-04:00

There is a scientific theory out there--almost a mathematical principle about complex systems. How do we analyze things that are so complex that we can't use a formula--or even a series of formulas. Things like the weather or the Internet. Air traffic control. And maybe quilts. In its essence the theory is that a butterfly flapping its wings in California can cause a hurricane in Florida--or is it a dust storm in the Sahara. I've heard it many different ways--indeed as I was writing this post NPR had another article on about it. Coincidence or meant to be. I don't know but I love thinking that somehow the butterfly disturbs just the right amount of air to create that disturbance that causes a larger disturbance that causes..... Well, you get the idea.

Isn't the same true for quilts? Now I know that artists are supposed to be able to manipulate the fabric to create just what the envision. But what happens if you have different fabrics or different sizes. Don't you then get a different quilt. Is this the difference between artist and craftsperson?

Anyhow as you may know from my recent blog post, I have been making a quilt autumn dawn for a great customer. This is the quilt. Nice--huh!

When last I wrote about it, the quilt was just started--a couple of rows of fabric just sitting there so alone and uncertain--you can read about it here. Now certainly quilts are a primary example of that proverb that the whole is more than the sum of its pieces. Over the last week I have let the quilt grow--slowly--one row at a time.

What color comes next? Is the yellow strong enough?

Amazing how the color seems to pop as I add more rows.

Yes, the lighting in the studio changes as the weather changes and the light changes. Perhaps a little less red or rust than the first quilt. Can I add more? I was worried that the yellow would not even show in the quilt when I started. It's there--is it strong enough.

And the final row. A little darker--is this because the size is larger. More room to have the colors progress? Or was it the yellow in the first row--that inevitable butterfly flapping? This quilt did not want to be warmer.

And how different will it look when it is sewn together.

What a slow process it is. How much faith is involved that the colors and fabrics will in the end work. And you--do you think of quilts as complex systems? Do you ever think of the butterfly flapping its wings? How do you make your decisions?

no more kale!!!

2011-04-13T07:47:00.000-04:00

Finally spring has come. Yesterday was just right for playing in the soil. I planted a row of peas. Spread some lime. Pulled up the few plants that I had not gotten to last fall. Tried to plan the garden for this year. Where do the tomatoes go? The green beans? The cukes?

Now for me, you must understand that my garden is a hobby--where I play before I go to the studio. On summer evenings after I come home from work. I don't preserve the food for winter--well, I did make three jars of brandied peaches last year. Yummy!!! Sometimes I freeze a few tomatoes. But for the most part, I cook with what I grow in the summer and that's it. I am a quilt maker--and in the end, even this blog post will be about quilts--please bear with me.

So although my garden is large enough, space is at a premium. Now I dearly love flowers--Siberian iris, Japanese iris, echinacea, and especially daylilies. I love my daylilies. Probably have a couple hundred. I am even a member of the American Hemerocallis Society and in July the colors in my garden are wonderful reds and oranges, yellows and plums which inspired this quilt--the colors of summer.

See it really is "the garden formerly known as the vegetable garden." The veggies are tucked into the corners. Always a challenge to find new places to grow the tomatoes. Rotate the crops.

So I read with interest Pat Leuchtman's blog post recently in The Greenfield Recorder--my local paper. This is her blog site here although the article has not been posted yet. She was writing about gardening in small spaces. A vegetable garden only needs 100 square feet of space she said. Oh I like this. One common mistake people make is to grow things that are easy to grow--such as kale--but which they then don't eat.

That is my problem. Sure I love kale in soup. Portuguese bean soup with spicy sausage and kale. An occasional meal. But no matter how good it is for me--let's face it--I don't eat that much. Think of the space I will have if I just plant the veggies that I know I want--the basil and lettuce, the hot peppers--love having them in the garden, the zukes--yes, they are so good when they are tiny, parsley. Celery--that was such a treat last year. I used it over and over again. What else?

And isn't that the secret to making quilts also. (See, this really is a blog about making quilts after all.) Why make the things that don't sell? Or the items that I dread creating--yes, there is such a thing? Isn't life supposed to be fun? Why not clean out the fabrics that I haven't used in years? Certainly they could find a good home?

I no longer make baby quilts--haven't for years. No more pieced quilts. They don't interest me. If I have added the new purses and pillows, the eyeglass cases that I posted on my web site--what can I discontinue? And you what is your "kale"? How do you prioritize? And what does your garden look like?