My love of fabric seemed to just be part of me, until I discovered my grandmother’s crazy quilt that was falling apart (or “shattering” as is common on silks from the turn of the century). As I began to dissect this crazy quilt to repair it, I realized how far back in my family the love of textiles, buttons, and everything that goes with it goes.
As I went around to shops to ask how they would go about tackling this task, most shop owners looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. I was offered cottons and told that I could take a basic sewing class. They had no idea why I would want to work with “slippery” and thick fabrics.
However, I never really felt the “call” of a sewing machine—says she who now owns a Serger and a regular sewing machine and uses them regularly. However, I really never wanted to learn to sew or to make that the focus of my creative life. I have always enjoyed handcrafts where I use my hands and create something lovely. I adore textures and different feelings of fabrics. In essence, I think it’s all a tactile addiction. Why bother if you can’t fondle!
My deep and irrational love of crazy quilting came from this addiction. What’s better than joining together a bunch of fabrics in a haphazard way to create something beautiful and exotic.
Oh, and I hate to measure!
Crazy quilts were “born” at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. One of the most popular exhibits was the Japanese pavilion with its fascinating crazed ceramics and asymmetrical art.
With the birth of the industrial age, women had more time and more money but still could use scraps from what were now fancy gowns instead of casual ones. Handwork was considered a valuable skill and “ladies” learned it along with other fine arts. Many popular women’s magazines started featuring the designs and techniques needed to make crazy quilts. Creativity was wide open with women sewing asymmetrical pieces of fabric together in abstract arrangements. Enthusiasm for this quilting fad continued until about 1910.
