In April 2020, I decided that I would make a quilt. Considering there was a global pandemic, and I didn’t have much else going on, I thought I’d give it a go. I had sewn before, but I’m the type to look before I leap, and thought the best way to learn how to quilt is to just go for broke right away.
Turns out, quilting is kinda complicated. I learned everything as I went. Sewing straight seams, pressing, perfect points, joining binding, using the longarm quilter at the space (Thank you, June!)… My original backing disappeared, my wife sliced a seam where she shouldn’t have. Everything that could have gone wrong pretty much did. In fact, I’m rather sure that in these past 18 months, I’ve spent more time with my seam ripper than I have with my family.
But my quilt is done! I was asked what I named it when I first brought the top into the textile room in May. I decided on “Optimism”, because my hopes for this quilt were far, far higher than my skill level. I made a zillion mistakes. Some of them are obvious, some not so much. I tested my patience, and that of anyone who attempted to help me, to the limit. I look at my quilt, and yes, I see the corners that need more practice and the uneven squares. Yet I also see the tenacity that didn’t let me give up on this, and the love that went into it.
I am choosing to highlight some of the rougher details. The corners are afright, there is uneven whip stitching attempting to correct a horrible booboo. I’m not hiding those things or trying to make them less obvious. Because what this first quilting journey has taught me is that beauty isn’t about perfection. And things don’t have to be pristine to be wonderful.
I am so incredibly proud of this, and so thankful to everyone who supported me and lended their knowledge, assistance, and fusible interface.
