13. Hubcaps

Even while we worked on our joint QuiltEssential commissions, Lynne and I each continued to create our own quilts as well. In my previous entry, I mentioned that I've learned to work in a series; pictured here is Hubcaps #1, the first of several "machine-inspired" quilts. Right next to it is a copy of the April 1989 Consumer Reports car issue. While you might easily imagine that the magazine inspired the quilt, I'd like to believe (without a shred of evidence) it was the other way round. In fact, the quilt pre-dated the magazine issue by at least a year (and it would have been two if not for the year I spent collecting black, white, and gray printed fabrics before beginning work). I include the side-by-side pictures of both not because I suspect that Consumer Reports staff were hiding in my workroom (though the quantities of fabric, thread and lint everywhere would surely have provided enough cover), but because it was an early reminder to me that "there is nothing new under the sun." Makers of quilts have always made heavy use of borrowing and sharing; creative souls in all media have always built upon the ideas of others; and sometimes--as in this case, I suppose--ideas are just "in the air" waiting to be used. I think it must be related to that phenomenon by which you learn a new word and then suddenly see it in every newspaper and billboard that catches your eye.

While quilters have for years found inspiration in butter churns, windmills, barn doors, and mariners' compasses, I don't find myself tripping over many of those objects in my daily rounds. What was a constant in my everyday routine was my car, especially in the days of chauffering youngsters from place to place, so of course--as most things eventually do in my world--it became grist for the quilt mill. Sitting at a car dealership while waiting for an oil change became an opportunity to marvel at the design effort that goes into wheel covers. It was an obvious next step for me to interpret them in fabric.

I experimented with a number of backgrounds against which to set the circles, but settled on this strip-piecing because it evokes motion. The hand quilting echoes the circles and suggests spinning, and a tire-tread design is the source of the hand-quilting lines in the border. These last two details are not visible in the picture here, which indicates two things: first, I shouldn't be doing my own photography, and second, I take special pleasure in adding details that reward the viewer who, having seen the quilt from a distance, comes up close for a better look.

This quilt was the first solo effort for which I received really positive feedback from judges, a coveted spot in a traveling exhibit (three real museums, with three real openings!) and some prestigious ribbons. It's also a quilt that carried to new heights what had now become my usual operating formula, which I can summarize like this: compelling idea + procrastination + deadline = finished-at-all-costs product with technical imperfections. As I finished the quilt top, all that strip-piecing was getting mighty stretchy around the edges; I decided to just "rein it in" with tight borders all around. When that method yielded a bulging middle, I quilted the center section even more. These labor-intensive efforts yielded a quilt which doesn't hang straight and still bulges in the middle. Nevertheless, with a temperature of 104 degrees and lots of flu symptoms, I finished the binding and shipped it off to a show. Perfection had eluded me again, and yet...it was a success. In adding a contemporary voice to a long line of forerunners, I felt truly connected to the rich tradition from which I had already benefited so enormously.