quiltersmuse.com Blog

This afternoon, I added part II in a series about Color. I plan to add more segments as the spirit moves me to write them. I used to provide instruction about Color Theory so it is not difficult for me to put together files on this topic. Hope you enjoy these offerings. If you are an old pro, you may not need to bother reading them, but there are so many people who are new to quilting but have no art background, I thought that my thoughts about color might just be helpful.

Pat
Quilter’s Muse Publications

I am so very curious as to what a certain person means when he refers to other quilters as “Quiltzillas.” A quiltzilla seems like some kind of made-up monster. If he means people who try their best to do good work and not be sloppy quilters, then I fear that my “friend” would think of me as a quiltzilla. At any rate, the word sounds derogatory, and when delivered in a sneering kind of voice, tends to separate “us” from “them.” In my opinion, it is a hate word.

Now, how would we define “us” v. “them,” in that case?

Slurs are used to divide and conquer, and can be used to bond a group of “us” against “them,” just like Hitler did.

If one is trying to do precise work, perhaps it is considered not as “fun” or fancy-free, as throwing something together.

Like public schools, the quality of quilting, quilt design, quilting stitches, etc. is slipping. After all, who cares about excellence any more? “Girls just wanna have fun!”

It is true that many quilters enjoy quilting, not for itself, but as a social vehicle, or one to bring them fame and/or fortune. Truth is, there is a glut of fabric on the market, and a glut of books, many of them poorly-written or outstandingly mediocre. Now, it seems that people who want to be called to a higher standard are being poked fun at, just for the “fun” of belittling someone’s efforts. I find this trend to be oh-so-school-girlish.

I’ve asked three times what “quiltzilla” means, from the person who seems to have generated the term, and three times I have been ignored. So, if the term means adherence to a higher standard than most, call me by that name, any day, and I shall carry the title with pride.

Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications

Here is another short story that is related to a re-occurring event with my mother. She loved ice cream. She particularly liked an ice cream store/restaurant called “Blake’s Ice Cream” in Manchester, New Hampshire.

Her favorite flavor was Pistachio. Of course, that ice cream is green and usually has Pistachio Nuts, although some businesses substitute walnuts, perhaps because they are less expensive.

We would sit down to order and the unsuspecting waitress would come along. My mother would announce that she would like a Hot Fudge Sundae. Then, the fun would begin. She would say, “But does your Pistachio ice cream come with real pistachio nuts?” The waitress would reply, “I don’t know! Wait a minute. I’ll go find out.” She would dutifully trot over to the manager and pose the question.

With a big smile on her face, she would return to the table and say, “YES! Real pistachios!” At that, my mother would say, “Oh, I only like walnuts in my pistachio ice cream. I’ll have to order something else!”

She would get her sundae, (with marshmallow – hold the whipped cream, please), and her coffee. After loading many “creamers” into her coffee, she would announce that the coffee was too cold to drink, and would the waitress please bring her a HOT cup of coffee?

My mother was much more sane when my father was still around. He died in 1974 and she lived another 31 years. Here is a photo of them in the 1930s.

Yes, my mother was impossible in so many little and big ways! A year before she died, I brought her new pajamas in the nursing home. She ONLY wore pajamas. However, that day, she was in one of her moods, and said, “Take those back! (I’d removed all the tags). Patti, Whaaaat were you thiiiiinking? You know I don’t wear pajamas!”

Her death certificate said that she had Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease, and she died of a heart attack. No matter what the cause of “nutty” behavior, it is sometimes just too tough to take. Hurt and upset by her words, I did not see her for a year after the “incident,” which happened to have occurred on Christmas Eve, when she threw all of my gifts at me and didn’t want anything. She died among her “new” friends, those who saw her everyday and could accept her behavior because she was not their mother.

Funny, the things we remember most are the quirky incidents of life. Day to day stuff, on the other hand, just “is.”

Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications

Textile marked “made in India – 100% cotton”

Last week, I purchased an antique textile from India. It is heavily appliquéd in mostly colors that are not vibrant, but tend toward gray and beige. Elephants and camels are heavily represented, an indication that this piece is not Islamic made. According to one source, “living beings are not usually represented in Islamic Art.”

More than likely, this is a ralli quilt. The name “ralli” is thought to be derivative of the word, “ralannu,” a verb that means to mix, to join, or to connect. A number of name variations for “ralli” exist, and ralli quilts are made in Rajasthan. As is typical of rallis, patchwork (a sawtooth appliqué design) adorns the edge of the piece I bought, and there is embroidery on the back that the maker has made no attempt to hide or disguise. Some of the fabric is Indigo-dyed.

In the book, Ralli Quilts: Traditional Textiles from Pakistan and India by Patricia Ormsby Stoddard, page 63 shows a woman in Mirpurkhas who has cut out multiple elephant pieces to appliqué onto a ralli made for commerce. Seeing the elephant appliqués has convinced me that I have a ralli quilt. The tag on the back simply says, “100% cotton, made in India.” It was clearly made for the trade.

Ralli quilts are created in both large and small cities, including places in Sindh, Gujarat, and Rajasthan. I have a file about textiles from Pakistan and India on our website.

The International Quilt Study Center will exhibit thirty textiles in a display titled “South Asian Seams: Quilts from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh,” from May through November 2010. The curator of the exhibit is the aforementioned book author. Workshops will be held in conjunction with this exhibit. Check www.quiltstudy.org for more details, as they become available.

I am sure this exhibit will be welcome, as before Stoddard’s book, not a lot has been written on this subject for the general public. For more online information, visit: www.ralliquilt.com

Patricia Lynne Grace Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications

This is a story about my mother. In retrospect, I am highly-amused by what happened, but at the time, if the pavement could have swallowed me up, I’d have been just as happy.

In the next town over, from where I grew up, there was a little food stand, the only one in the immediate area. They sold ice cream, hamburgers, and lobster rolls. Now, keep in mind that my mother LOVED lobster.

My Dad drove us down to this stand, and he and I, not liking lobster, probably ordered a cheeseburger. My mother, ordered a lobster roll. She took a number and waited to be called on the intercom to pick up the food. We took the order back to the car.

My mother squealed, “Where’s the lobster? This is not a lobster roll! It is a ‘lobster ran through it’ roll!” She proceeded to get back in line and made the very same statement to the owner.

A more infuriated man, I have barely ever seen! He took the lobster roll, threw it in the trash, and told her to leave. He screamed, “Get out! Get out! I am taking down your license plate number and if your car, or you, ever return here, I will call the police!”

We left, never to return. Shortly after the incident, the man died and his business closed down forever. I hope that he learned his lesson and is now serving more substantial amounts of lobster, wherever he is. I can’t help but think that his death was Karma at work.

Moral of this story: One can cheat the public, some of the time, but one should not mess with old ladies who complain. The battle may be won, but in the end, the WAR is lost.

Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications