is it trippy or traditional?

Now as many of you know, in my "spare" time I have become fascinated with stripes. Little bitty stripes that repeat but change. Each one different but consistent with the others. There is an energy that I am trying to capture. That sense of motion and change but with the repetition that is so human. Or at least that is my opinion.

I just want to make more and more stripes. See what I can do. Learn something new.  Some customers want a large piece made like this. One customer said that upon looking more closely at it she thought there was a traditional aspect to the quilt. Another found it "trippy". His word--not mine.

 stripes--36x36"--copyright Ann Brauer 2012

Close up of the quilt.

These little strips are nothing new for me actually. Sure I haven't done them for a while but in some of my earlier quilts I used to work with silks in the tiniest pieces possible. Eventually it became too tedious. It was technique not art and I wanted to simplify my work. Get back to the message I was trying to convey. The work had become too precious.

But maybe this is why I am so fascinated by these little stripes. I don't know. Anyhow, now is the time for my trusted customers to weigh in. What do you think? Do you miss the more organic wedges that I have been using? Are you fascinated by the wedges? What about the energy of the stripes?

a blast from the past

OK--I admit it. I have had it with the movie folks in Shelburne Falls. I could go on. Even be an old curmudgeon about the whole thing.

But it did get me to thinking about what my quilts looked like in the '80's. After all I moved to Shelburne Falls and became a quilt maker in 1981. Back then Shelburne Falls had a movie theater--above McCusker's. We had an artist co-op in one of the long narrow buildings on the south side of Bridge Street. Village Variety. May it rest in peace. And the Food Locker--now Keystone. Also a couple of auto dealerships--one became a bank.  Larry's--how can one forget Larry's/ And two clothing stores that my mom loved. I never shopped there.

Now I don't have all the images of my quilts from back then but here are a few.

As you can tell, I loved the log cabin pattern. Also loved color changes. These were all quilted onto muslin with a polyester batting that was tied in place.

Not to brag, but I remember the first time I did the Smithsonian Craft Show. It was in the Justice Building back then. I had a roommate for the show who made wearable clothing. She was related to someone famous--I forget whom. But every evening she would sit and count her money on the bed. I sold nothing until Saturday night at five when all of a sudden three quilts sold. On Sunday afternoon, I sold out between the hours of four and five. People actually were fighting over my quilts.

Those were the days I guess.

Here are a couple of my early quilts.  Can you see the similarity between them and my current work? This was back when I would get into both the Smithsonian and Philadelphia Craft Shows--of course.

 

Bet the movie folks don't have anything half as nice to hang in front of my studio tomorrow. But then Shelburne Falls never really was the depressed back water they are trying to make us out to be. And we really and truly did have a drive-in and it was GREAT. Just saying.

testing, testing, testing

Two windows. Three windows. Sometimes it is the small choices that matter most. You know the placement of those blocks of light and warmth. But since I added the ocean on the bottom, I couldn't use the solution I had used in the previous quilt. What to do? Yes this is the same quilt I have been working on. Finally got the backdrop pieced.

First, I must create the windows. Make the color just right--warm enough to go with the hints of red in the other art in the room. But brown enough to reflect the wood of the bed. Arranging and rearranging the fabrics. Then sewing.

Testing them on the quilt. You must know the process.  So hard to visualize what the quilt will look like when it is sewn together but I can't sew it together until I resolve it.  Do I like the two windows anchoring at the bottom. Just that splash of color. (Yes, you can see how crowded my design board is right now. Oh well, I can focus on the quilt.)

Or three blocks--like the original quilt. More of a feeling of going into another space isn't there--but is it too much? Is it too busy? Too red?

I sit and play with the possibilities. Stand back and squint. Work on other projects. Leave it for the night--maybe this morning it will resolve itself. I won't let my decision be made by the difficulty of the piecing. No way.

What do you think? Do you have any preferences? And for those who haven't read the first blog about this quilt--here is the link. http://annbrauer.blogspot.com/2012/06/how-long-does-it-take-to-make-quilt.html

how long does it take to make a quilt?

Isn't that one of the questions that we get asked so frequently? Such a seemingly innocent question--but so hard to answer. "A life time" is certainly a true answer, isn't it--although maybe just a bit snarky. An actual calculation of the time it takes to sew the quilt is another answer--but what about the design time, the thought time, buying the fabric--it does add up. Sure I can do a guestimate--after all, I am a business person--but is that really accurate either?

Currently I am working on an order for a wonderful couple in the Carolinas. They saw my quilt ancient light. You may remember this one.

Ancient light--45 x 45"--copyright Ann Brauer 2011

Lovely quilt--the pops of light just draw the viewer in. I call this quilt ancient light because I was thinking of the mystery of the early caves. But--and as you may have learned there is always a but--the quilt is for their bedroom. A light and airy space with views of the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Now, I did try to make this quilt a few months ago. Even blogged about it here but while vernal light is a wonderful quilt--it sure does not feel light and airy, does it? http://annbrauer.blogspot.com/2012/03/second-time-around.html

So I thought and thought. Would contemplate the quilt in those odd moments. Doing repetitive hand finishing. The early, almost awake time in the morning. The clients--such wonderful people--sent me paint swatches and colors of the rug. An almost dusty grey green. Gorgeous and soothing. And the color of the bathroom--much more spring like. They suggested that blue on the bottom would reflect the ocean and the mountains.

Hmmm. Well, I just had to work on the quilt. Maybe if I started with a dusty blue on the bottom the quilt would come to me. Nothing to lose by trying.

 Not bad. I keep the paint swatches by my cutting board as I test the fabrics. It is hard to get the greens and greys to be just right. But I note that while the colors of a single block look dubious, a row of them does create an interesting color.

 And the next row begins to define the quilt.

Now if I can only keep my attention focused as I move further and further up the quilt. But luckily I do have the concept. The color palette. My answer to "How long does it take you to make a quilt?" is often a grin and the truth "The sewing is the quick part."  And usually I don't explain that sometimes I have to make more than one quilt to get the feeling just right, if you know what I mean.

Does this ever happen to you? How do you answer the question?

 

the quilts of Ann Brauer--June showers

Yes, it is June. That wonderful month when my garden begins bursting with color. Already the Siberian iris are amazing me with their soft complexity. A few daylilies have started to add their accents of yellow. And even the tomatoes and peas--yes, I do still plant a few veggies--are starting to bloom. Almost every morning I hurry up there with the excitement of discovering what is new and delightful and the purpose of keeping the weeds down to a mild roar--if you know what I mean.

The big news in my studio is that people whose opinion I respect are fascinated by some of the new quilts I have been trying in my "spare" time. Always fun to struggle with new ideas and see if I can bring them to fruition. The big news in town--and it is big news--is the movie. Yes, they are using Shelburne Falls as the backdrop for a major motion picture. So the crews are out there trying to transform our charming village back to the 1980's. Part of me says--what fun. Part of me will be really glad when it is over. But even during the process, Shelburne Falls is open for business and I am busy finishing orders--still--and of course pushing these news ideas. Do drop by and tell me what you think. I do want to hear your opinions on the new quilts. (Of course, if you are coming from a distance, please call or e-mail me first to be sure I am there.)

In July I will be doing the Guilford Craft Show in Guilford, CT. What a wonderful show in another charming town. Then August sees me at the Berkshire Craft Fair and The American Craft Exposition in Evanston--with no floods, hurricanes or other disasters this year I hope. So stay posted for more details.

And now for the quilt of the month. This time, in honor of my Siberian iris, I chose "may". Now I confess I love the colors of this quilt--blues and teals. There is a story here. A joyous quilt that celebrates the colors of spring in my opinion. It is 32 x 48" with Velcro for hanging. Normally it sells for $820 but for the next ten days or until sold I will sell it for $600 plus shipping and any applicable taxes. So if you want it, be the first to e-mail me.

Hope to see many of you soon. The quilt has been SOLD.

beyond first light

OK--I admit it. I love this quilt. First light. So simple and yet so complex. The colors seem to glow with the dawn. My husband you see is a school teacher and after I get him off the work on a winter morning I can hike to a nearby mountain top and watch the dawn break. I love the drama and mystery always different and yet always satisfying.

first light--45 x 45"--copyright Ann Brauer

Yes, I love this quilt. But I don't want to make it just like this one. Not that any two quilts I make are ever the same. Different fabrics. Different moods. I always have to pay attention to what I am doing and each quilt takes on a life of its own. But this time I want to take all that I have learned since making this quilt and make it more gentle. More haunting. Maybe because I just spend a week-end by the ocean and saw the misty dawn rise above the marshes. Or maybe because I have been thinking of mountains a lot. What is it about horizons that affects us anyway?

This time I want to take the feeling--that promise--of the dawn and make it gentler. Even more illusive.  As always I start with what I know. This time it is the gentle song of the earth and the meadows. Haunting colors aren't they? Can't you just feel the softness of the mist?

Then the dawn--again this time I want it subtle. Not the bold colors of first light but soft.  The moments before the sun breaks through when the colors of the dawn are just reflected in the sky.

Gradually the colors will turn to a soft blue/grey. Why do these colors haunt me? Will the blues be the colors I seek? Can I sustain this blue as it stretches up?

Will the blue define the dawn? So many questions. So much to do--one block at a time as I sketch out the quilt? Do you ever work like this? Taking a concept but putting it into a different time. A different place. Changing the mood. Do you ever feel the need to make  a gentle haunting piece? What affects your mood?

the exuberance of iris

I am sure my love of iris began with my grandmother. Yes, that grandmother. The one who made the quilts. Her second love was her gardens. Not the long rows of beans and tomatoes that any good farm wife would grow. She had those of course. She had to. Remember they did not have the ready access to grocery stores and fresh produce that we now take for granted. Hours spend planting and hoeing the rows. Pickling the cucumbers. Canning the tomatoes. Braiding the onions.

But there was more to life than this. There were also the beds of iris. Not just one bed--but two. Full of every color of bearded iris she could find. Arranged in no set order. Just planted in an exuberance of joy. My father would roll his eyes. Why did she waste so much time digging and replanting these iris when she could be weeding the cabbage? Relatives from the city would plan day trips just to see the bloom--hoping they could persuade her to give them a tuber of that brown iris. Maybe one of the precious yellows also.

And as a young girl I just absorbed the color. Played games among the flowers. Soaked it in not realizing the care that went into these blooms.

Now I walk across the Bridge of Flowers in Shelburne Falls right by my studio. Have you been there? Flowers arranged in the most wonderful combinations. This time I soak in all the wonderful details and colors of the iris there. And here without further ado are just a few of the iris that I saw the other day. The wonderful rich blue. So intense in color.

 
The many different colors in this one. Don't you just love the orange beard and the white edging?

 
 This one is called Emporer's Dragon.  Love the golden yellow and that rich orange beard.

 Such a pure simple white with just that hint of color. How rich it looks.

And this one--not sure what it is. But I loved it against the tiny Johnny Jump-Ups.

 Isn't the detail wonderful? Do you have a favorite iris? Or a favorite place to view iris? Do gardens from the past still influence you?