People quilt for lots of reasons, and that is just the way it should be. Heck, most quilters do it for more than just one reason; we are complicated people. I do not think everybody ought to be quilting for the same reasons I do, nor in the same ways, but I think there is a significant number of quilters that is being underserved at the moment, that does not feel like the quilting industry is speaking to or supporting them.

In my generation, there are a lot of people coming to quilting as part of a broader social movement. This is not limited to just this generation, it is people of all ages, but it is a practice that has truly gained traction in recent years. Whether it be the slow food movement, much of the Ravelry community, Maker Faire, or the renewed interest in recycled materials there is a search for significance afoot. As such there is indeed an underlying political nature to these practices, and this includes many quilters. It is about far more than aesthetics, or giving, or tradition; it is part of a desire for a different, and hopefully better world.

That is what actually drew me to quilting, that current within the tradition that connected with these beliefs. This is not a new idea, but one that is re-emerging in the craft and wider world. We are making messages, not things. This is an approach I try to bring to everything I design. Again, I don’t think this is where everyone is, or should be, but I think there is a solid percentage of quilters who are searching for the larger issues, the implications of making and quilting and speaking and doing. These people are not better than other quilters; they just have different reasons and different goals. And I think this audience is being radically underserved.

At the same time, it disturbs me that things like Why Quilts Matter and Quilt Alliance put together have fewer followers than Moda Bake Shop on FB. There is nothing wrong with the Bake Shop, but in a practice that speaks so much about tradition and heritage and meaning that saddens me. As much as I hear quilters complain that the tradition is being forgotten, that the techniques are not properly respected, why is it that these organizations that exist to preserve the remarkable tradition of quilting and explore the profound meaning of these objects that we all love are not the most supported parts of our industry. Personally I think we need something like a swear jar around here; before you can complain about someone not respecting tradition or lacking proper skills you have to make a donation to the AAQ. If you are truly concerned about the preservation of the tradition forego a FQ bundle and send that money to a quilt museum.

I’m serious. Criticizing technique is the easiest thing in the world to do. Again, I do think craft and skills matter, and I agree at the basic level with most of what Ebony wrote in this post that has been circulating, but I’d like you to read this post on being an artist a while back and think of them side by side. Then read the comments on each. The posts are not that different, but we seem to be technique obsessed. Almost everyone rails against the Quilt Police, but everything about the industry reinforces that attitude. There are hundreds of books, articles, videos, and tutorials every year with tricks for perfect binding, tidy seams, and better appliqué flowers, but how much stuff comes out to help us make our own quilts better, to find our voices, to do what so many of us say we love about quilting?

In much of this I am indeed looking squarely at modern quilting. If modern quilting is indeed to be a movement it must, must, must mean more than just simpler quilts and domestic quilting. That is exactly what my wife’s grandmother did in the mountains of Kentucky fifty years ago. Here’s the thing, I do think modern quilting is about more, and I am sure it started as more, but if modern quilting is reduced to “Modern Tips” and “Modern Made Easy” there is no need for the word modern besides being a ready marketing tool.

Let me reiterate, I think there is enormous value in what is going on now. I have been fighting for it since I got here, as have many, many others. But what are the underlying questions driving modern quilting? If it is a movement, what are the issues that propel it forward? For many this doesn’t matter, but if history has taught us anything it is that a style, a fashion, can only last for so long without an abiding underlying reason.

And the thing is that I don’t think the pressure lies solely on the shoulders of the leaders or the publishers or the manufacturers. It is you, the consumers. If you accept it being nothing more than a trend, that is what you will get. I have seen book after book (not mine) transformed after it left the author’s hands. I’ve seen collection after collection watered down (again, not talking about me). If the work isn’t good enough, for whatever reason, let it be known, but always know that there is a complex network of issues at work and apply the pressure where it will be most effective.

Imagine you are a brilliant new quilt designer. You are not yet an expert quilter, but your designs and piecing are flawless. You are offered a book deal and you have to figure out how to make the quilts. Let’s use my book as an example:

I was given an advance; remember an advance is not just money you get in advance of doing the book, it is an advance on future royalties. It very well could be all you ever get for doing the book. From that advance I had to pay my literary agent; I love my agent because I don’t have a clue about contracts and contract law. It is money well spent, but money nonetheless. From that remaining money I need to make the book happen and theoretically pay myself something for actually writing the book.

I am not yet an accomplished quilter, so Lisa Sipes quilted all of my quilts for the book. The only reason that was possible was because she did it for next to nothing. I gave her half of my advance, but probably should have paid her close to that for the first one she did. If not for her remarkable generosity I would have had to quilt all of them myself and they would have been awful. Even then I am now down to something under half of my advance and I haven’t purchased any fabric, batting, or shipped a single quilt. Luckily I found some sponsors. Pellon generously sponsored the batting; I received fabric from various and sundry companies. But even then my net take-away from that initial advance is about 15%; enough to cover my plane ticket to Portland for Market had I gone, with enough to take Lisa out for dinner for being such an awesome quilt wife.

Hell, I am delighted to have gotten this opportunity, and I love working with F+W, but there are economic realities that always lie behind the scenes for every professional around here. Let’s go back to that brilliant new designer; he/she is not lucky enough to have a partner that can cover the bills for the next several years; this is not a luxury endeavor. He gets this deal, something she has been working toward late at night for years. Each expenditure takes away from other things. Not everybody has the luxury to say not yet, or go into debt in order to make something.

Every maker wants to make the best things possible, but there are costs associated with that. As such the industry favors the technicians over the designers. Not that there are not many who do both exceeding well, but it is a reality. And before you start tearing into one maker or another I ask you to think more deeply about the many issues underlying this profession. Yes, professionals need to be held to higher standards, but I think it is also important to understand why a lot of the things that happen in the quilting world happen.

When the projects in a book are not perfect enough, or the colors on a fabric collection are less than ideal it is easy to blame the designer, but I think we need to perpetually recognize the complex of issues that lead to that result. Before posting a bad review of a book ask yourself whether the author was supported well enough to execute the book to perfection. Before ripping that new designer apart for the quality of fabric, remember how much or little control the designer actually has over so much of the process. Consider whether the review should be criticizing the author or the editor or the publisher, the designer or the manufacturer. Nothing in this industry happens in a vacuum even if the authors or designers are placed in the spotlight, for good or bad.

And here is the thing for me; I think the industry need to be encouraging a wider range of voices as a more diverse audience of quilters comes to the practice. Unfortunately the pressures brought, in no small part by consumers, reinforces a certain hegemony. For the audience that speaks to, perhaps the broad span of the community, that works, but in my travels, conversations, and experiences there is a vast, untapped current out there, a lot of makers who want something more, or at least different. I think the modern quilting drew most of those makers in, but is at risk of losing them as the movement transitions into being a market force.

I don’t think I speak for everyone, nor do I want to. I don’t think everyone ought to agree with me, but I hope they may recognize that there is this perspective out there. Just as the quilting world has always been in flux, it is changing now. There are new voices emerging, and they deserve to be heard. The industry can either embrace and support those voices, or it may lose them and the audience that is attracted to them. The differences may not be vast, may not be revolutionary, but subtle shifts can carry epic significance.

In the end, though, I keep returning to something I wrote yesterday:

“All too often I hear that craft professionals ought to be doing this “for the love of it” I wince; that belief then limits being a professional to either members of the upper-middle class—those with a partner who has a good income—or those who are willing to make serious and profound sacrifices that involve their families in so many ways. I can only do this because my wife has a good job, but it wounds me that so many brilliant quilters and designers are excluded from the profession simply because they cannot afford to enter.”

To me this is still the most pervasive problem in the industry, the one that reinforces quilting as a hobbyist’s practice. The thing is that this seems so profoundly disconnected from the profound history of quilts. It is why I find it hard to see “traditional” quilting as traditional, and see the real opportunity in modern quilting to be to reconnect with the deep conceptual roots of quilting. My great-grandmother would have been horrified by the idea of a quilt kit as she worked in her natural food store in Lancaster. My wife’s grandmother would have likely wanted you to explain the idea to her, not because she was not intelligent, but because the idea would have been so foreign to her. They made quilts, not historical objects; they were each very much makers of their times and circumstances.

I know this puts me well outside the mainstream, but there it is. There is room for all of us, and we don’t have to agree. I want to speak with, to, and sometimes for those looking for that wide practice and understanding. Hopefully I can expand the awareness of certain approaches and ideals, and maybe bring in a few new quilters to a tradition I have grown to cherish profoundly. For the time being at least I am committed to putting my voice out there to hopefully carve some space in this industry for a different conversation. With any luck, every once in a while, I’ll get something right.

-t

Note: This probably has more typos than you could shake a stick at; I’ll fix them when my meds kick in…

If you’ve ever visited my blog before you probably know that I love doing follow-up posts; hell, I frequently write about something for days on end until I feel like I’ve really wrapped my head around a topic. In many ways this blog is as much for me as it is for possible readers. And as one might imagine I am in no way done with my last post…

I meant to write this yesterday, but had a colonoscopy instead, and that post-anesthesia reality just wasn’t so conducive to terribly thoughtful writing. In the meantime, it appears that Ebony posted a follow-up post of her own that covers one segment that I wanted to talk about, so I’ll gladly refer you there. I would also like to reiterate that I fully and absolutely still stand by the premise of making shit as outlined in this post from a while back. I have and always will make a lot of crap, and I love that crap, but that crap will not end up part of my professional practice, or at least not too often ‘cause sometimes crap just happens.

That’s the thing, I make things both for me and for my business, and while they interrelate, they are not the same practices. I think much of this industry is predicated on the image of the beautiful, creative lives of the designers, but when it comes right down to it each and every professional around here is perpetually making serious and careful business decisions. That isn’t a bad thing, and that doesn’t mean we aren’t deeply committed to what we do and make, and that we don’t love our practices and the chance to be part of this community, it is just a reality. A bad decision can have serious implications on one’s livelihood and future; a word or phrase in the wrong place can derail everything, trust me. But I digress…

There are two reasons why Lisa Sipes quilted every one of my book quilts: 1] she is fucking awesome and I love her work (yes the swearing was necessary), and 2] I know my quilting skills are not yet up to the level of my ideas and designs. I know when I need help to produce the quality of work for the practice I want. That said I quilt almost all of Bee’s and Baby Rabbit’s quilts. They are no less important, probably more so actually, but they are from me, for her, and about us. The fact that I am still pretty crappy at the quilting side doesn’t matter. We love those quilts and I wouldn’t want them any other way.

I believe in the idea of professionalism, that all of the nuances matter when it comes to standing up and declaring oneself to be a professional. Otherwise the word becomes meaningless. To be honest though, the craft of making is not my biggest concern. In this world it is perpetually easy to pick away at craft problems, but it is almost taboo to criticize the conceptual development of something.

When I first started considering fabric design I was told that a collection is about telling a story, and I truly took that to heart and try to tell a rich, complex story with every collection; sometimes I do better than others, just like so many other designers. The thing is that the real purpose of fabric is to sell bolts. We all know that, and can all see that. Fabric is about trendspotting; what was hot at Target last season will be on fabric this season (and yes the fabric world does not set it’s sights high in terms of trendspotting). Media and product tie-in will always be coveted; hell there is a One Direction collection coming out.

And that is the reality that drives the entire industry: it is about what will sell. And there is nothing wrong with that, at least when it is done well. The thing is that most manufacturers and publishers and shops predict what will sell based on what has sold. It is the nature of risk assessment; if someone cannot fit a new product or idea into an existing marketing model that thing is unlikely to be made. Hence you end up with a largely regressive system, one that rewards similarity over innovation, trend following rather than originality.

At the same time it is certainly hard to blame the industry, and this is the way it goes in pretty much every field. You see it costs a lot to make fabric, produce a book, market and distribute a new product. And if a company is going to invest the kind of money it takes they need to build in some guarantees of success. Fabric is expensive to produce: you need to source the base-cloth, which itself needs to be manufactured, you need to print it, ship it, fold it to bolts. You have to warehouse it, pay a sales force, and distribute it to shops. Somewhere in there you have to pay all of the staff involved along with finding some money for the designer (very little). And then shops have to get their money, which doesn’t come easily to them, so they too need to figure out what will sell, and that is largely based on what has sold. So manufacturers produce what they think shops will buy, because the shops are really their customers. And shops buy what they think they can sell, or more immediately, what will actually allow them to make money (and pay the bills).

Because a lot of the time it isn’t just what will sell, but what will actually be profitable. My first book pitch that was accepted (and will likely never be made) involved carefully digging through 20th century art for ideas that would be applicable to quilting today, developing a conceptual and aesthetic lexicon through which we could all discuss modern quilting. The thing is that the book was going to require image permissions for 40+ pieces of Modernist art, each of which would have to be licensed. That would have added five to ten thousand dollars to the production costs, which would have raised the price of the book way outside of the viable range for craft publications. Hence the book was unmakeable, or makeable only if I was willing to do it at a loss. Thus, authors pitch what they think will be publishable, designers aim for the ever-so-slightly new, and most innovations are carefully market-tested into what is perceived to be palatable to the widest possible audience. Manufacturers are always balancing costs and quality and try to walk that very fine line. Sometimes the succeed and sometimes they fail, but then each additional step adds to the ultimate price and changes the equation. Consumers then buy what is available to continue their practice, balancing their desire for quality and originality against the need for low prices and their interest in the lastest trend, fashion, and fad. And the cycle begins anew.

The thing is that creativity doesn’t come free, even if we like to imagine the lives of creative professionals as wonderful things. As much joy as it may bring to work in this industry it is still a job, and love doesn’t pay bills. All to often I hear that craft professionals ought to be doing this “for the love of it” I wince; that belief then limits being a professional to either members of the upper-middle class—those with a partner who has a good income—or those who are willing to make serious and profound sacrifices that involve their families in so many ways. I can only do this because my wife has a good job, but it wounds me that so many brilliant quilters and designers are excluded from the profession simply because they cannot afford to enter.

In some way we the consumers get what we ask for, but in others the shops control what consumers can even get. In some ways shops drive what gets produced, but in others the manufacturers limit shops profoundly. It is all a feedback loop based on people predicting what they think other people think, and that process will always be several steps behind current reality because it cannot help but be determined from what individuals have thought rather than what they will be thinking. As manufacturing takes a long time (nine months to a year for a fabric collection), it is primarily a backwards looking practice, one that capitalizes on trends. Certainly a few things will get through, some truly innovative work gets made, but that is the exception rather than the rule.

All of this is the nature of industry; it’s primary purpose is to not go out of business. A business, unless it is incredibly secure in its position, will always be risk averse. And that goes all the way from the large publisher and manufacturer to the individual designer. I perpetually censor myself. I adore Chawne’s work, but cannot risk making things like that. If I want to make a living in the industry I have to nibble away at the edges, work with subtle metaphors and hidden meanings. Everything must be palatable, because everything I make reflects on my practice, and each and every partner I have carefully guards their reputation and cannot risk what they may see as a negative association, even if it is by just a certain segment of their audience.

I have been told my work cannot really be authentic because it is ultimately just a prop for promoting myself, and that is the bind every professional has to cope with. Part of our job is to promote our partners; we are contractually obliged to do so, and without those partners we have no business, no job, no income. We generally choose our partners carefully and try to do so authentically. I work with Pellon because I like their stuff and adore Erin Sampson. I work with Janome because I have only ever sewn on Janome machines, and so it seemed a perfect fit. I write for Quilter’s Newsletter because I see it as an amazing opportunity to expand the discussion of quilting that I find so profoundly meaningful. But in doing these things I accept limits to my practice. It is always a balancing act. That said I have two words for anyone who dares to reduce my work, and by extension me, to a being purely a marketing ploy: Fuck you. And I mean that sincerely.

You see, what is at stake for everyone in this industry is a living, one that can disappear at a moment’s notice. And nobody doing this makes much money. Put a number in your head and cut that in half, and then half again and you might get closer to what the average designer actually makes. And that money doesn’t go to luxuries; it pays bills. In my case it is all about trying to put a college fund together for our children, two kids who based on their parents are likely to be aiming at some really expensive schools. So each time I screw up and potentially alienate a partner I see that as jeopardizing their futures, and I cry.

And the same applies to the companies; poor sales mean fewer designers and fewer employees. It means magazines getting shut down and jobs being lost. It means editors being laid off and reps being cut loose. The creative world doesn’t just happen, so yes the industry tries to capitalize on trends, but that is the safest bet, and consumers buy that stuff. So when you complain about it all be too trendy, or too commercial, stop buying that stuff. Each and every quilter is part of the machine.

So yes, it is easy to pick on the people who perhaps dive in too early, but when you get an opportunity you take it. And the publishers and manufacturers who push projects through way too quickly, but they need to get their stuff to market ASAP before the trend is over. Yes, it all dumbs down the industry. I have never understood why we would ever need another book on nine-patch variations again, ever. It’s an effing nine-patch. But there it is; as long as someone is buying the books they will sell. The market drives what gets made to a degree, but the consumers play a role.

So, stupid stuff will get made, and it will get made poorly. Every TV show that survives for more than a season will eventually end up on fabric. Pattern books will keep getting made even if no-one makes those patterns. Knew tools will come out to make everything “easier” rather than better. Things will look much as they always have. I remember when Denyse Schmidt came out with Greenfield Hill and so many people went all crazy over the fact that is was so different than her previous collections, it didn’t give them more of what they wanted, in short it wasn’t Flea Market Fancy or Katie Jump Rope. Hell, at first I was confused by that collection, but soon came to adore it. But consumers quickly associate a designer with a look, shops want all of a designer’s work to fit together (Moda does that brilliantly) so it can live together on their walls. That’s why we get what we get.

If you don’t like this reality, fix it. Stop buying the crap you think is crap. Tell your shops that you can’t stand to see all the crap. Tell the manufacturers and publishers. Until consumers stop rewarding trendspotting, redundancy, and mediocrity nothing is going to change. At the same time, go out and support the work you love ferociously. Stand up for it, shout about it. Spread the love for the designers you care about, whether they be professionals, semi-pros, or complete amateurs. Most importantly of all, go make shit. The only way great work gets made is through putting in the time. Make the best shit you can, and then do it better the next time.

All that said, I have my fingers cross for no fallout from this. I have tried to be honest and fair to all the parties. This is just the reality as I see it. I do think the industry should strive for more, and that standards really do matter, but industry standards are not the proper benchmark for every maker. When you make for you, you are making for you and nothing else matters. If some one goes all Quilt Police on feel free to tell them to back off; do not let them make you feel bad. At the same time be careful to differentiate between intended cruelty and a genuine effort at help. And when it comes to the professionals, think twice before you tear into them, or vent your unkindness, because there is always more backstory than you know, and once their designs and words leave their hands they often have very little control over what goes on.

I hope it is obvious that I think there is way too much crap, but why that is is complicated. And sometimes crap is great. Ultimately I feel compelled to repeat these words from my last post:

“When it comes right down to it though I will always take the quilt of mediocre construction that is just freakin’ brilliant over the technically flawless variation of a block I have seen a thousand times.”

-t

I frequently get questions as to why it is so important to me to invest in political and social issues with so many of my quilts. I am told that is not where the market is at and I am just doing myself harm. At times I am even admonished for being political at all. I’ve been told that quilters just want to make pretty stuff, so I would be well advised to give the issues a rest and get back to making things for Bee and Baby Rabbit, because that is what people want to see and hear about.

Personally I think all that advice is flat out wrong. I think that quilters, or at least so many of them do care about the deeper implications of quilting. Our politics may differ, but we are all invested in something. Heck, that is so much of the reason for making, at least from my perspective; makers feel compared to speak about something with what they make, whether it be overtly political or something deeply personal.

As I’ve said before, I think every quilt is fundamentally political; the decision to make rather than buy is embedded in an important perspective on meaning, value, and significance. Each and every quilt is an investment in the idea that making (and giving) matters. As such when I talk about things being political I don’t so much mean that left/right, liberal/conservative divide that seems so polarizing; I am referring more to the Aristotalian notion that “man is a political animal.” What we make is in some very fundamental ways motivated by our beliefs.

It is based on that background understanding that I feel compelled to infuse what I make with social and political meaning, otherwise I don’t really know how to make. My work covers a wide range from the subtle to the overt, but nearly everything I make comes from that space where art, craft, message, and meaning come together. To be honest I think that is intrinsically true of all making, but for me it is an explicit part of my practice.

So, you might ask why I am writing about this again today; I do seem to cover this territory with some regularity. First, I do believe that it is worth looking at with some regularity. But, more importantly, I was given a reminder this morning just why I do what I do. As I was out running a few errands I ended up behind someone sporting this bumper sticker (this photo is borrowed, but it is of the same bumper sticker):

While it’s basic intend may be to announce a certain pride in American manufacturing, the means by which it does so is fundamentally jingoistic and racist. It denigrates an entire people, reducing one group to a cultural stereotype while explicitly demarking a professed cultural superiority. Now I’ll likely never see that person’s truck again, but it is just that blithely racist tendency that I see so often, one that is mirrored in the rampant gender stereotyping that remains so incredibly prevalent that motivates me every day.

Do I think I am going to change the world? No. Do I think I might reach a few people? Perhaps. Regardless though, this is what compels me to make, the fact that those voices remain so profoundly present, that such slogans are used so easily without regard or even thought. I see so much of my work as being about making the implicit explicit, bringing to the fore the issues that sit just beneath the surface of our every day.

Maybe I am wrong, and there is not a market for all of this, for the more esoteric reaches of making, but I think there is. It may never be a huge market, but I don’t need one. I am looking for those who are passionately invested, those who are looking for more, who can’t help but speak. Luckily I have found a lot of you thus far, but even if I hadn’t I think I’d still be doing just what I do, perpetually pushing to go that one step further until I figure out just what it is that I am trying to do, and then I’ll move on to the next level. Just know this: as long as people are sporting bumper stickers like that one, I’ll be here doing what I do, quietly yelling in the dark, and hopefully I will continue to have professional partners who will continue with me as I do so…

-t