V's Version

Four-Eyed Monsters and the Stages of A Quilt.

Being an artist and a mother and a wife is tricky. Sometimes I get lost in the day to day.

I drive to the bank, run the dogs, drive to gymnastics, fold the laundry, drive to the recycling center, set out fresh flowers, drive to my mother-in law's house, compose emails, drive to the grocery store, wash the floor, drive to the post office, make the bed, drive to the library, fluff the pillows, drive to play dates, shake out the rugs, drive to the pet store, water the garden, drive to get school supplies, call the billing department, drive home.

I DRIVE and DO stuff but I lose my DRIVE to DO artistic stuff.

Then I have a chunk of time and (magically) everything in the house is order and Dani is satisfied and the dogs are lounging in the sun and all the emails are answered and I tell Parker that I am not driving him anywhere - he can walk or read or do one of the 3 pages of "things to do when bored" that I made for him or he can just be bored.

Part of my sense of being lost as an artist is that the day-to-day family life takes priority and part of it is that I create things that I haven't ever seen done before. Maybe somebody is out there creating what I do. Actually - I am SURE people do what I do. But I don't see it. I don't have a pattern or even another artist's DIY-YouTube. I have to make it up as I go along. I love that challenge but it takes time and motivation and faith.

(Sort of like a committed transbutch / femme relationship with the added bonus of a child!)


1. The Honeymoon Stage. All of my ideas are just ideas - brainstorms and flashes of inspiration, color and lines. All things are possible. I do research and draw in my journal. I have no real concrete plan - just sketches and dreams and desire.

2. The Work Stage. Great. Brilliant - I have this vision of what I want but how do I get there? What colors are available? How much fabric do I need? How do I make it work in real life? There is number crunching. There is and trial and there is error. I get impatient. I get overwhelmed. I get bored. I sometimes feel crazy and question if I am cut out for this life as an artist.

3. The Infatuation Stage. Inspiration hits and I work really hard. I see progress. I am in love. I laugh at my former fears and feel great hope and promise. I want to work late into the wee hours of the night. I am obsessed. I am sure that THIS quilt (whatever one I am working on) will be the best work I have ever done.

4. The Roadblock Stage. Inevitably, I get stuck. There are problems to be solved. I hate the quilt. It's ugly and I am unsatisfied. I don't know what I ever saw in it. Family life takes priority over the quilt and if it weren't for the fact that I have a deadline and need the money, I would throw it away. Sometimes there is despair and fear.

5. The Faith Stage. Commitment and follow-through are important to me so I chug along until I am in love again. (I can vacillate between stages 3 and 5 for a while.) Then, I see the finished creation and my faith is restored. I am satisfied and proud that I was able to contribute something unique to this world, grateful that I can contribute money to my family.

6. The Separation Stage. Until I die (may it be a long time from now), I have to deal with separation in relationships. With people, either they move on (through death or circumstance) or I move on (which doesn't happen lightly or often because I have a high value for connection). With quilts, I usually package them in a box and make the drive to the post office to purchase insurance and get a confirmation receipt. I slide the box to the postal worker behind the counter who does not know that I am handing over a creation made from dreams and sketches, made by my own imagination and fingers.

7. The Mourning Stage. I am sad to give up my creations. They are like children in a way. I know they must go to the people who commission them and I am grateful to have the compensation and the incredible opportunity to do what I do but I miss the quilts, envying artists who have so much work that they can have a gallery show. They can put their work on display and have people really see the tiny detail and touch the texture of the fabric. I mourn the loss of each quilt and I mourn that very few people get to actually see and touch my work.

A couple in a relationship is sometimes called four-eyed monster. Two people, four eyes, ever-changing dynamics. I don't know if there is a name for a quilter and her quilt. Design and Chaos? The New Quilt that I am working on has no name yet but it's the one made from feminist T-shirts and the picture above is a hint. Currently, I am in an infatuation stage. It is brilliant.

OK - and - hey - speaking of infatuation and art and brilliance and relationships- please check out Four-Eyed Monsters (today is the last day to view the 71 minute film for free) or go to Susan and Arin's website to check out their work. I've been waiting for a LONG time to see this film and it was worth the wait! I've been following Susan and Arin for two years - through podcasts and youtube and myspace. Arin and I write back and forth sometimes and I hope they make more films because I appreciate their vision, their process and the results!


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Labels: art quilt process fabric film commitment lesbian family life artist vision create Four Eyed Monster