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Have you ever helped set up a Quilt Show? I always help set our guild’s show up, because I like to do it. I think it’s because that drafty old building, with the beams showing and the tape on the floor and the rather dim corners, reminds me a little bit of that Iowa cornfield that was transformed into a baseball diamond in the movie The Field of Dreams. “If you build it, they will come...” that old building says to me. It’s hard to believe, when you get there on Friday morning, that there will be a full-blown Quilt Show up before nightfall. But somehow it always works out, and they - the people who know about quilts - will come.
Think a minute about why we go through all of the work to make Quilt Shows happen. In one way, it comes down to “fortune and glory” - we do it to earn money for the Guild and to show others what we can do with fiber and thread. In another way, it all comes back to the deep down reasons we make quilts in the first place. Somehow, whenever I make a quilt, no matter what its pattern or fabric, it connects me with all the quiltmakers, living or dead, that have influenced me. When I start to stitch, I can see the faces of my Mother and Grandmother, and feel back home again. I can hear the voices of quilting teachers in my head as I work and somehow, they live in my sewing room and guide my hands. I get the same kind of feeling in that old barn of an Exhibit Hall, as the frames go up and quilts are put upon them.
I’m almost certain the spirits of quilters dead and gone wander through the aisles in the night before the Show begins, just like those baseball heroes did in the cornfield. I can almost see them, fingering the fabrics in the vendor stalls, checking out the quilt backs and bindings, and inspecting labels. I can almost hear them say: “Well! In my day we never would have put pink and purple together!” or “Maisie, look at those tiny stitches!” “I do believe she painted on that quilt!” “My, my, where did she find that paisley print? I’ve got to get me some of that!” and “Lord, that old Nine Patch takes me back...” I’m practically positive we could see and hear them if we tried.
So we do it. We take our energy, our hearts and hands, our skills and time, and we put it all together in one great Show for all the quilters - past, present and future - to enjoy. It is a celebration of our craft, our growth as artists and caring human beings. It is a celebration of our diversity - one great big charm quilt of all the interwoven, vibrant colors of the personalities that make up our guild. It is a celebration of the good food and the good times, the loving hands in hard times, the continuance of the thread. It is a celebration of ourselves as quilters. We made the quilts and built our Show, and - good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise - they will come. . .
And then, all of a sudden it’s SHOWTIME - and it’s glorious, wonderful, inspiring, and the people do come. Almost five thousand of them. We share our work; we quilt and demonstrate and explain and - we hope - inspire hundreds of people on to bigger and better things. We talk and laugh and greet old friends and we buy stuff - you know, STUFF - rulers and needle threaders and fabric and notions and all the 101 things we have to have to do what needs to be done. And then, just like lightning, it’s all over. . .
I could hear the fat lady singing as the last of the frames was gently lowered to the ground, as the last of the people picked up their quilts, as the last spirit quilter silently vanished, and the Exhibition Hall became empty and silent once more. It was a glorious, fantastic, Show. It made me proud to be a QUILTER, part of this marvelous group of caring, creative, artistic people. But, even though the Show is over and the floor swept and the building locked, the quilts are still out there, somewhere, filling the world with beauty, the Guild is still here uniting us with 361 kindred souls, and the memories and photographs of the Show remain.
It was a growth experience, and I doubt we’ll ever be quite the same again, for we have changed in a fundamental way, we have grown into a new way of thinking and seeing from when our guild began 14 years ago. Our guild encourages our members to explore new ideas and techniques, to take classes and go to shows and share our work, and we did. Our workshops encourage us to cut our fabric up and get it off our workboards and out of our stashes, and we did. Our friendships within the guild, a little gentle armtwisting and encouragement prompted us to get off our behinds and get to work, gathering and sorting and putting up frames, to work together for the good of all, and we did. It was a very good Show, and not just because the quilts were lovely and nothing got stolen. It was far more important than that.
We’ve grown to understand that quilting is an art and that we, as quilters, are artists. And when the show’s all over and fat lady sings, when we hit that wall and wonder how we’re ever going to make it over, when the road’s too long and the burden too heavy, we’ll just get out the old Newsletter and find another quilt show to go to.
So that when you build it, we will come.
Think a minute about why we go through all of the work to make Quilt Shows happen. In one way, it comes down to “fortune and glory” - we do it to earn money for the Guild and to show others what we can do with fiber and thread. In another way, it all comes back to the deep down reasons we make quilts in the first place. Somehow, whenever I make a quilt, no matter what its pattern or fabric, it connects me with all the quiltmakers, living or dead, that have influenced me. When I start to stitch, I can see the faces of my Mother and Grandmother, and feel back home again. I can hear the voices of quilting teachers in my head as I work and somehow, they live in my sewing room and guide my hands. I get the same kind of feeling in that old barn of an Exhibit Hall, as the frames go up and quilts are put upon them.
I’m almost certain the spirits of quilters dead and gone wander through the aisles in the night before the Show begins, just like those baseball heroes did in the cornfield. I can almost see them, fingering the fabrics in the vendor stalls, checking out the quilt backs and bindings, and inspecting labels. I can almost hear them say: “Well! In my day we never would have put pink and purple together!” or “Maisie, look at those tiny stitches!” “I do believe she painted on that quilt!” “My, my, where did she find that paisley print? I’ve got to get me some of that!” and “Lord, that old Nine Patch takes me back...” I’m practically positive we could see and hear them if we tried.
So we do it. We take our energy, our hearts and hands, our skills and time, and we put it all together in one great Show for all the quilters - past, present and future - to enjoy. It is a celebration of our craft, our growth as artists and caring human beings. It is a celebration of our diversity - one great big charm quilt of all the interwoven, vibrant colors of the personalities that make up our guild. It is a celebration of the good food and the good times, the loving hands in hard times, the continuance of the thread. It is a celebration of ourselves as quilters. We made the quilts and built our Show, and - good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise - they will come. . .
And then, all of a sudden it’s SHOWTIME - and it’s glorious, wonderful, inspiring, and the people do come. Almost five thousand of them. We share our work; we quilt and demonstrate and explain and - we hope - inspire hundreds of people on to bigger and better things. We talk and laugh and greet old friends and we buy stuff - you know, STUFF - rulers and needle threaders and fabric and notions and all the 101 things we have to have to do what needs to be done. And then, just like lightning, it’s all over. . .
I could hear the fat lady singing as the last of the frames was gently lowered to the ground, as the last of the people picked up their quilts, as the last spirit quilter silently vanished, and the Exhibition Hall became empty and silent once more. It was a glorious, fantastic, Show. It made me proud to be a QUILTER, part of this marvelous group of caring, creative, artistic people. But, even though the Show is over and the floor swept and the building locked, the quilts are still out there, somewhere, filling the world with beauty, the Guild is still here uniting us with 361 kindred souls, and the memories and photographs of the Show remain.
It was a growth experience, and I doubt we’ll ever be quite the same again, for we have changed in a fundamental way, we have grown into a new way of thinking and seeing from when our guild began 14 years ago. Our guild encourages our members to explore new ideas and techniques, to take classes and go to shows and share our work, and we did. Our workshops encourage us to cut our fabric up and get it off our workboards and out of our stashes, and we did. Our friendships within the guild, a little gentle armtwisting and encouragement prompted us to get off our behinds and get to work, gathering and sorting and putting up frames, to work together for the good of all, and we did. It was a very good Show, and not just because the quilts were lovely and nothing got stolen. It was far more important than that.
We’ve grown to understand that quilting is an art and that we, as quilters, are artists. And when the show’s all over and fat lady sings, when we hit that wall and wonder how we’re ever going to make it over, when the road’s too long and the burden too heavy, we’ll just get out the old Newsletter and find another quilt show to go to.
So that when you build it, we will come.
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