Dear and patient readers, thank you, if you’re still here after such a long pause. My sweet companion in sewing was sewing her own creation alongside me today when I finished a thing. She said something like “this deserves a blog post, surely!” and I thought she was right. And so here it is.
I’ve had some very intense ideas about things I want to make in the last two years or so. Things that come into my mind again and again. The intensity of this experience has me in mind of a vivid fever dream, and hence, the title of this post. These are things my fingers want to get working on. Things that would not be especially useful, necessarily. There are a lot of things on my mind, in relation to this experience. I wonder if I really could break from a lifetime of making things primarily because they are useful. I wonder if I can even make the things that come into my mind. I see that I don’t fully know how some of them would work out. And yet, they keep coming to me, wanting to be made. I find that I want to make them. I have sweet friends who are encouraging me to make them. You know what is coming next, don’t you?
I’ve found that I need to hold some things in my mind very clearly, to pursue this direction. One if them is the idea that I will not let sewing be the place my perfectionism lives. I’m agnostic on whether perfectionism is such a big issue in my life that I’d bother with assigning it a home, rather than just bidding it begone when I feel it approaching me. But I certainly do not want it dragging down my sewing joy, or even just my preparedness to make weird, wild things. I notice that few people who end up with my creations care much about the things I felt could have been better about whatever I made and gifted them. So as I notice something is not ideal, not as I had hoped, I decide whether I need to rip it out (and try to embrace that process too–) or whether this is a situation in which I repeat to myself: “this is not the place my perfectionism gets to live”.
I also decide again and again that I know all kinds of things about sewing and I can learn more. That if I make something and decide it has to be turned into something else entirely (rather than thrown out or wasted), this is something I do often. That is not a problem, that is a skill set I possess. I decide that I am going to make these things, even if they are fugly when finished. How else will I know? How else will I learn? How else will I find my way through the things I am trying to figure out (in some cases) on the journey of making?
I also find myself needing to accept that these fever dream quilts are very, very specific. Maybe one of them could be made by someone else? But the others are very specifically about things that weigh on my mind, and the way they weigh on my mind. They are not about everyone’s experiences or thoughts. I’ve decided I need to embrace that for now and figure out how that sits with me.
Today I finished the first fever dream. I have now begun three of them, so this is a series of at least three. It is made entirely of reclaimed fabrics. Bits of sheet, parts of garments, fabrics gifted to me from people who no longer want them, scraps left from other things I’ve made, and two small pieces of bling that came from an op shop in the Flinders Ranges, picked up once I had begun making this but not yet finished. They wanted to be part of it! The back has been foundation pieced onto a pieced backing made of calico, worn out sheet, even a scrap I found that had been a barrier cloth in some plant dyeing project and then been a test fabric for screen printing.
In all honesty, when I realised I was deeply committed to piecing this foundation rather than using a whole piece of cloth, I couldn’t quite believe myself. And yet, there it is. The top has velvet, cotton, upholstery fabric, even a little silk dupion from a special shirt I made my beloved for a graduation, you name it! The “batting” is a dead t shirt. I’m struggling to say where it came from, but it clearly is one of the garments that have come to their final home with me from some other household. So raggedy, I think this kind of concealed role is perfect for it. Mind you, a knit fabric is not my ideal batting fabric, but there it is. I have these firm ideas in sewing. If I’m so committed to making this piece and so committed to how it will be constructed? Well, I’m experimenting with going with these inclinations rather than fighting them.
I made some miscalculations early on in the life of the project and found myself making something big enough to lead Mardi Gras. So I now have a lot of deconstructed and reconstructed parts of that earlier iteration. There came a point when I had sewed some three metre seams when I called time on myself and decided to start again.
The back is made from all the bits and bobs, parts that were trimmed off, scraps discarded from the front, trial runs of lettering concepts. And here it is, out in the sunshine.
In one final, wild bit of this story–someone posted on the local Buy Nothing group that some bamboo had been dumped on a vacant lot. He was suggesting it might be good for garden stakes. Having finished this, I jumped on my bike and went over. The man who had taken the bamboo out of his yard was there, jumping up and down on a lot of bamboo in a skip. There was still very much bamboo on the ground. He was glad to share it or have any taken away. I introduced myself and set to work (with his loppers!). This is as much as I thought I could get home. I had to channel the friend most able to haul spectacular loads on his bike to get this home and there were a few hitches turning left.
So I cut a nice fresh rod from bamboo. And here is the front of the quilt. Ah, yes, that is a passionfruit vine, as it happens!
My initial idea had exactly these words but a different arrangement of colour and pattern in the background. I have enough fabric to try again–wait and see.
I have friends who are trans. I have friends who hate on trans people, too. I’m not a fan of hating. I am especially not a fan of hating that places people’s lives and wellbeing in danger, as so much hating does. Today my fabulous friend, the one I sew with, was asking me if there was a trans day that this quilt could participate in, in some way. In my mind, the best known trans day of the year is Transgender Day of Remembrance. It is a day in remembrance of all those who have died as a result of transphobia. In particular, those who have been murdered. When I told her this, her face was a picture of sorrow and shock. I have made this quilt because I want so much more for my trans friends (and frankly, for total trans strangers). I want more for them than the rise and rise of transphobia and laws restricting the rights and freedoms of trans people. I want more for them than recognition that Trans Lives Matter (as they obviously do). I want joy for them. I want to share their joy and delight in it.
PS a beloved friend has let me know that Transgender day of Visibility is celebrated on March 31!
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