I discovered long ago that when I am ill or otherwise in pain, sewing is usually the only thing that I can tolerate doing for any length of time. This was not the case while my hand was inflamed or while I was going through the worst of the flu, but right now, even though I feel like a miserable sack of poo (as an old friend of mine used to say), I forget about it while I'm sewing. So I spent most of Saturday finishing up a project that I started several weeks ago and that had been on hold during my bout with la grippe.
Early last summer I started collecting Anna Maria Horner and Joel Dewberry fat quarters. I was aiming for a collection with a particular sort of boho look to it, and these fit what I wanted. I would have added more from other collections if I had found anything that seemed to fit, but by the time I had all of these, I thought I better stop before things got too out of hand.
I had seen several examples of Mock Cathedral Windows online and I had been eager to try it, and I had also been looking for a project that would employ my boho fat quarter collection. I wanted to go for a really super scrappy look, and see if I could make that sort of thing work.
I didn't really see any good way to test the layout ahead of time (translation: I was too lazy to try and come up with a way to test it out ahead of time) so I did what I usually do and just jumped in. I bought an Olfa rotary circle cutter and started whacking.
I cut two circles from each fabric and set aside one pile to be the tops and one pile to be the bottoms (or doms and subs, if I'm feeling kinky). That way, I figured each fabric would make one appearance as the middle of the circles and one as the "petals" (and also the squares on the back. Of course, it helps if you keep track of which pile is which and don't move them all over the sewing room because you get a big ol' bug up your butt to start organizing shit. But, whatever. The original principle was sound and that's all that matters. Execution, shmexecution.
I layered two fabric circles with a batting circle and sewed them together. Turned out that despite my handy, dandy circle cutter, I managed to cut everything all wonky. But wonky is cool, right? It's what all the kids are doing now. So I did what I always do and fudged it and figured it would all work out in the end. Or I'd give it to the kids.
So, then I had a nice pile of fabric frisbees:
Then came the fun of sewing them together. And it was fun. Really. That's not just the Dayquil talking.
The problems came when trying to sew down the petals, or flaps, or lips or whatever the hell you call them. Sometimes everything would go beautifully, and then the next one would bunch up and the quilt would seem to lurch under the needle and I'd end up with something all fucked up and wrinkly. But there was no way in hell I was ripping stitches out of this one. However it tuned out was the way it was gonna stay and if it looked like ass I would just pretend I bought it off some hippie out of the back of her VW van and then I'd make up some story about how I had to air it out for days to get the weed stink out of it and how it may not have worked because I still smell colors every time I get near it. So, you know, win-win either way.
I finished the whole thing Sunday morning and dragged it and my coughing carcass outside to photograph it for posterity.
I can't decide how I feel about it. I like it better now than I did while it was being a little bitch. And everything looks better hanging from my patented Front Porch Quilt Photography Apparatus.
Maybe it needs a cute kid.
David is all freaked out that the back just looks like this and not a reverse image of the front.:
It's also a very small quilt, like baby size, but I am no longer giving away baby quilts since no one seems to actually like them, so this may be a throw or a picnic mat or a Psychotropic Substance Enhancement Tool. Not that I would know anything about that. Anymore.
