Wednesday, September 2, 2020

Pandemic Zombie

Here is the story of how I became a zombie. It is a true story, perhaps in the Twilight Zone. 6 months ago the pandemic reared it's ugly head. Quarantine happened so suddenly! Zoom became a thing, ready or not. I didn't feel affected by the quarantine too much since we live in the mountains with lots of room to roam. Plus, around here, hardly anyone has followed the suggested social distancing, except yours truly, so it seemed like news on TV was unreal. Looking back, I was mentally numbed by the fear. Even figuring out my odds of getting sick didn't help a lot. I got internal stress and in the process of ignoring it, I became zombified. Like the perserverant person I have always been, I pushed on through and I have continued to mend quilts and make cool creations, with less vim and vigor. Blogging felt way too tough. I played a good amount of computer games. I was commissioned to finish a Cathedral Window Project 2 months ago. I was thrilled to have such a pretty project. Some of the menders I have been sent, only a mother could love. This one was interesting, and started with such a funny introduction: "I, the one who hems pants with staples and tape, have inherited pieces of what was destined to be a Cathedral Window pillow. The large triangle of work measures roughly 29 inches per side with a hypotenuse of 40 inches. There are also a few additional strips of completed squares (shown in picture) and myriad squares of patterned fabric cut for more squares."
Here is the history of the project: "The quilter's name was Flora Etta Foley, and she was my mother-in-law's mom. "MaMa" was born in the late 1890s and died in the early 1970s. She lived all her life in rural Russell County, in the central part of Kentucky. She had a dozen or so siblings, and may have finished through 8th grade. I like to think that the cathedral window quilt was a project she started just for herself, when she had the luxury of time and security to make something beautiful instead of something necessary. My husband found it (the boxed project) in 2011 when he was cleaning out his family home. He brought it to me, and I put it in a desk drawer. It's taken me only a decade (almost) to find you, but perhaps now MaMa's pillow can come to be." Here is the project midway.
15 hours of hand sewing later, I finished the pillow case, and put a zipper into one side. When I first received the project, I had gushed over the amazing handwork and how special it is. After sending the finished photos and invoice, I got this request from the client, "I wonder if I could ask one more thing from you? Could you put in words what it is about the workmanship on the cathedral windows that made you take notice? It's all magical to me, but I would be interested to know what sets these apart so I can make note of it." Here is what I wrote to her, "When I first saw the cathedral window piece, I noticed the color placement. It is made up of little scrap pieces of 50's and 60's cotton fabric in a classic range of colors found then. As in a piece of art, my eye moved around and saw smooth movement. The little windows are perfectly even. This takes a good eye and practiced hand to curl the edges without markings, and take tiny even stitches. You will see that the stitches are visible on the backside (inside) and look like perfect, even quilt stitches. This is amazing because it is all invisible on the front. My blocks are not as even or tiny and don't all go through to the back. This method of stitching, to make the back look as clean and perfect as the front is often seen in Nordic embroidery. Believe me, I tried, but it is tricky! I believe the diligence and workmanship shows a real love of the process. You have a lovely, durable piece of art."