Rare Diamonds.

I have a terrible habit of laying out all the fabric I might use for little dresses or quilts, putting all those beautiful colours together, and then reaching for the ones I like least first to cut into. I can't help it. I always balk at taking my scissors to my very favourites. Some are rare and out of print, and others I just can't bare to let go. And some I have used and just have a little bit left and have not yet come across a project deserving enough for its use.

A few weeks ago I was watching an episode of "Collectors" as I stitched happily away. Each week it features strange and interesting people and the many varied things they hoard. This one episode showed the most beautiful collection of old umbrellas. And maybe I'm strange, but beautiful fabric makes me feel something, much like good food or music. Those colours and textures. Different patterns placed next to each other to contrast or complement. And sitting there that night, looking at those umbrellas, I felt that warm, beautiful feeling. I want a collection just like that.
And, you know it's strange, but the moment I thought it, I knew it wasn't actually true. It was one of those moments of clarity where you see a bit further than you have before.

You see, my favourite thing about sewing is stitching two pieces of fabric together, making a new seam and hiding away those frayed edges. This is my art. And suddenly it seemed absurd to hide away my favourite designs, to be forever relegated to the shelf. They should be shown off, displayed for people to enjoy, not just brought out to admire when the kids slept or for show and tell with my fellow fabric collectors.
I decided I would no longer be a collector. And instead I made a promise to myself to be a creator.

And to mark the occasion, I made a quilt of all my favourite fabrics, some of which I'd been hoarding since I started collecting about 5 years ago.  

I used a mix of rare, out of print fabrics which were bright and bold, with some more recent and monochromatic prints, which I thought set them off nicely. 

I wanted to use triangles because I love the way they create movement and play on light and colour. I was so excited as I saw it come together, tucking those frayed edges away, ironing it all flat and neat, watching those pretty colours be what they were made for!

 

On the back, I used mostly white to show off the prints in a different way and to display the quilting, lovingly hand-stitched over many evenings (watching Collectors and the like!).

 Here it is, finally finished and hanging over a chair in my sewing room. And after all that thought and work and heart, I feel compelled to give it to a special friend of mine. I have to let someone else enjoy its vibrancy and joy.

 "No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house." - Jesus of Nazareth.

I'm not a bother.

I wasn't raised to be an artist. I was raised to be kind and responsible and helpful and to love God. And to not be a bother. My mum was raised the same. Probably my dad also. I remember someone playing the guitar at Grandma's house one time and hearing her call out from the kitchen, "WHAT is that noise?"
You don't express yourself. You don't disagree. You don't ask too much, (and you always preface a request with, "no pressure" or "feel free to say no") and you don't put yourself out there or say what you want, you wait to be asked. And I did. I was asked to run youth groups and kids clubs and be a secretary and babysitter and teacher. I've become a professional volunteer. And there's nothing wrong with volunteering. It's just when you want to start creating and selling, it feels wrong to ask people for money. And there are many voices around willing to tell you how much your stuff is worth. One person told me I should sell my quilts for $50. My brother in law (God bless him) thought $800 to be more appropriate.

How do you put a value on something you've made? Do you say to yourself, "Oh, it's just a hobby," and just try to recover your costs? Do you charge by the hour? Those hours stitching in front of the TV after the kids have gone to bed or sitting on the couch with Tully under one end of the quilt with a sore toe watching me work on the other? Those hours laying out pretty colours and sewing the 'puzzle' together, as Tully calls it. Do you charge for the times that have become precious memories or important lessons learnt, how you would do it differently next time?
And then there's advertising. How does someone trained not to bother anyone market themselves successfully? It's a challenge enough for me to link this to my Facebook page each time I write. I thought I could have fun giveaways and competitions and heard little voices in my head saying, "Oh isn't that cute! Jodi's trying to run a business!"

This morning I was a reading a blog I follow by Jennifer who has started to feature her followers, their blogs and their creations. She said that people interested in being featured should email her. After a few minutes of caution, I clicked on her email link. I told her I thought it was a great idea, a great way of finding other blogs, meeting new people, getting ideas...then came the moment to ask if I could have a turn. I stalled. I didn't know what to say. How to phrase it in a way that didn't look like I was after attention. Wait a minute. I was after attention. Was that such a bad thing? After all, if her new little feature was going to be successful, wouldn't this lady want people to email her, asking about it? And if I want more people to see my stuff, don't I need to seek out opportunities like this?

Tully's latest phrase at the moment is, "I'm not Super Tully, I'm just pretending to be Super Tully." I like it. I'm just putting on this cape for a little while. I'm still me so go easy. But I'm just going to have a bit of fun pretending I'm limitless. And maybe, the more he (and I) pretends, the more he'll discover things he can be in real life. And the more he'll find he's allowed to be Super Tully. That we won't just roll our eyes. And he's not a bother.

Pretty Diamonds.

Ahhh. Kids in bed. Dinner cooked for a friend. Quilt finished. It's been a good day.
And while I didn't take photos of weary, grumpy children or lentil soup, I did get some pictures of my new quilt, which was, I have to say, the most photogenic of the three!
So sit back and let me show you...

Pretty Diamonds.

 A few months ago, a lovely, crafty friend of mine gave me a Kaffe Fassett quilt book because she had two. I got to work on this one straight away. And although I love the effect, it will be a long time before I make a quilt from 3" squares again! It's such a soft, light quilt! Filled with bamboo batting, it's completely breathable.

 Can you see the line of blue diamonds in the picture above? I used blue and yellow diamonds horizontally and light and dark pink in alternate vertical rows. I think it's really subtle and pretty. Don't you?

Then I hand-quilted around half the squares, following the little designs in the fabric.

This quilt will be for sale in Tickle & Hide on Etsy.com in just a few short weeks (fingers crossed!) when I launch my new online store!

Life from Tully's View.

Hello! It's my birthday today! Big 31! I feel like such an adult, being in my 30s. Like a real adult. Don't ask me what that means! Probably just that I'm doing what I love and don't care as much about what people think. I have had such a lovely day. Spent some birthday money this morning on some beautiful and ridiculously cheap fabric, kicked a footy outside with Tully, was taken out for lunch by the beach with the lovely Rossanne, and have come home to the smell of yummy, gluten free birthday cake. Hmmm, I'm feeling very loved!

A few days ago, I heard the sweet sound of Tully muttering under his breath, "Oh yes, that's beautiful. Very nice! Oh, I just love that colour. Oh, great shot!" I turned and looked and he had the camera. Instead of taking it off him like I normally do, I let him have a play. Here's Tully's photographic journal of the afternoon.

Tim working at his desk.

My fabric scrap bin. :)

The current favourite story.

High chair

Sewing

Feeding Eve Lily.

Sorry if you're the kind who get sea sick from this kind of thing! I thought they were fun! x

A Change in the Weather.

I think for the last two months I've been waiting. In June, Tim was busily finishing his degree, in July we went on holidays, got sick, organised a big local conference. Now it's August. Back to everyday life. Or not 'back'. Because we haven't been here before. Tim's looking for work. It's a season we don't know how long will last.
I've been looking forward to this change. Tim and I have been studying the whole time we've been together, so I'm used to having him around, being part of everyday family life, negotiating our roles and expectations as big assignments arise or a new baby comes, or Tim takes on some part time work. But this is different. This is unemployment. All that time to look after the kids while I sit at the sewing machine. (Can you see where this is going??)
So, this morning, Tim and I came to the unfortunate realisation that our expectations about how this season would be spent were quite different from each other. He's been longing for a break. Me too. He's been wanting to bury himself in a pile of things he's put off. Me too. He's been wanting to sit at his desk uninterrupted... Ok, so our expectations weren't that different, just incompatible.
When we were both at uni, so much of our life was shared. Even after Tully was born, we would study together, host friends together. I was studying History which really interested him and he was studying Engineering which baffled me but I was happy to listen. We had interesting dinner conversation and a life outside the home. Now I like to sew, and I'd like it to fill more of my time. But it's not nearly as exciting as World War Two or politics or the GFC.
How do you navigate a new season together? How do you pursue new interests without just becoming house-mates that just take turns looking after the kids? And how to you hold your dreams lightly, to allow room for the other to hold theirs?
Any ideas?

A Sunny, Winter Daycare Day

Sunny studio, open windows, bare feet, happy baby...

...and my little homey at Amanda's house.

I'm coming to eat you!