On my daughter’s wall while she was growing up, there was a poster of a prima ballerina teaching a little girl in a tutu how to dance. The words at the bottom of the poster said, “A candle loses nothing by sharing its flame...” Every now and then the image of these dancers comes back to me - especially when someone asks “Are you going to put a quilt in the Show?”
Entering a piece in a Show - be it a Guild Show or a juried, national show, can be an experience fraught with mental and logistical pitfalls, but you just have to be strong and do it anyway. You have to keep in mind that even though the effort you put into showing your quilt is emotionally trying and physically draining, these shows are an inspiration to others, and “there is no better exercise for the heart than reaching out and lifting people up.”
Some people say they are reluctant to put their work in shows because it doesn’t seem to them that the work is good enough; I can identify with this; I NEVER think my work is good enough. My mother says that if what you did yesterday still looks good to you today, you probably haven’t done very much today. The quilts you made yesterday were stepping stones to where you are now, and the quilt you finished today is your leaping off point for the ones you make tomorrow. She also says, "If you're not living on the edge, you might be taking up too much space." It’s all part of the process, and when you show your work - you’ll probably find out that the quilt you thought was lousy gets “oohs” and “ahs” at the Show, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad, after all.
Another reason you might not want to put a quilt in a Show is that you realize that every time you show a quilt, you are showing the world a little piece of your soul. It’s true that in sharing a quilt, you show the world myriad things about yourself that someone looking at you just can’t see. They may know you only as a doctor, a scientist, or a secretary; yet when they see your quilts they can see you’re really a Victorian romantic at heart, or an adventurous bike racer, or have a secret sorrow spelled out plainly in the mourning quilt you made for a lost child. Your personality and emotions are displayed quite clearly in the fabric, in the pattern and the stitching. But you’re a big girl now, and you can handle it. Really.
The best reasons for “sharing your flame” by making a quilt for a show is that it is a great, guilt-free excuse to make a quilt that isn’t made for any other reason than that you want to make it. The quilt for the Show doesn’t have to match Aunt Hilda’s living room furniture, it doesn’t have to be the colors your three-year old niece likes, or have any other reason for existence. If it just happens to have your favorite fabric in it, and uses about six new techniques you just had to try, and means you had to buy lots of spools of the very newest in rayon and metallic thread - so be it. It’s for the Show, and we all have to make sacrifices for the Show, don’t we?
Entering your local Guild show may be emotionally trying, but not nearly the hassle of entering something in a national show. To enter a national, juried show, you first have to send a letter requesting contest information, sending an SASE. This is not as easy as it sounds, even if you know what an SASE, or worse, a BSASE (Business size Self-Addressed, Stamped Envelope) is. First, you have to locate the magazine and find where to mail the letter to request information on the contest. Were you reading it last out by the spa? Or in bed? Or maybe it’s still in the bag you took to Guild meeting? Maybe it self-destructed because you didn’t read it quickly enough?
Then, you have to find a clean piece of paper, TWO envelopes, and two or sometimes even THREE postage stamps. This is not easy in our house. Then you have to write the letter, address the envelope, remember to self-address the other envelope and put stamps on it, then actually put it in the mail. Then you wait. . . And wait. . . And wait. . .
When the information finally comes, you have to either make a quilt to fit the specifications of the contest, or figure out which one of the ones you’ve made recently fits the bill close enough to enter. We won’t even go INTO this part, we’ll assume you either make something or have something that will do.
When the quilt is done, you have to take a good photograph or slide of it. This involves calling up the person who currently has the portable quilt frames, arranging to go get two of them, giving them $100 deposit in case you lose or break them, get them in the car (a feat in and of itself), and get home without having the quilt frames break your front windshield (my husband has done this.) Then you have to buy fabric and make a great big piece of black or white fabric to hang on one of the quilt frames to be the background, and set the other frame up in front of it. Then you have to buy slide film, find the camera, wait for an overcast, not windy day, and take a whole roll of pictures of the quilt (or quilts) close-up and far away, and actually get the film to the developer. When the slides come back and only 1 or 2 turned out well, you take the good ones back to the developer and wait 10 working days while they duplicate the good slides, so you don’t have to go through the whole process the next time you want to enter that quilt in something. (I have given up on this process for large quilts and hire a professional photographer to do this part, but it feels like a cop-out.)
So, now you have slides, but most contests panels want more. You have to describe your quilt in 50 words or less (!!!!!), tell them what sorts of materials and batting you used (as if you can remember) and tell them how big it is (where in the world is that measuring tape?) Some places even make you send swatches of the front AND back of the quilt. (Do they really want 200 swatches?) By this time, you’ve misplaced the entry form. So, find the entry form again, as well as two more envelopes, ANOTHER two stamps, swatches from the quilt, and two good slides of the quilt.
That’s another thing - something to send the slides in. You don’t have any of those cute little plastic slide holders to send the slides in because the photo stores only sell them in packages of 10 sheets that cost $18.00, so you have to find a zip-lock sandwich bag and sew little pockets in, instead. Then you still have to fill out the form, put everything in one of the envelopes, and remember to put the SASE in with it. To add insult to injury, you have to find your checkbook and write out a check for $15 or more for the non-refundable entry fee for each quilt. Then you put the whole thing in the mail, and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.
If, for some reason, your quilt doesn’t get in, you feel terribly rejected for days. This is not good. You try to be a good sport. You try to remember that only people who TRY can fail. You tell yourself “better luck next time,” and then you find out someone you know DID get their quilt(s) juried in, and you feel lower than low. I think the best thing to do is to just pretend you never got your act together enough to enter. (Somehow, it feels worse being rejected than not entering.)
If, however, you DO get in the Show, take a few minutes and dance around and call everybody you know and tell them the wonderful news; but don’t relax yet, your work is just beginning. You have to fill in that new form they sent you, including that box that asks for the “approximate value,” warning you that they can’t deal with values greater than $1000. Get real. If I put down what my quilt is actually worth to me, the judges would fall off their chairs laughing. If I put down the cost of the materials and my time, I’d probably never make another quilt again. If I knew what my quilts were worth, I’d probably sell them, not put them in shows. I can’t deal with that box, so I usually just close my eyes and scribble something illegible. You just have to deal with it in your own inimitable fashion.
But you’re still not done. Oh, no, NOW you have to make sure your quilt is absolutely as perfect as you can make it. Then you have to make sure you have a sleeve and your own cloth label on the back, as well as THEIR paper label, put the quilt in a large, clean, plastic bag, and find or buy a box the quilt will fit in. Now you have to write out another check for the return postage fee, and enclose that in ANOTHER envelope along with the return mailing label (filled out) and a 3 x 5 card with the name of the quilt, its measurements, and the name and maker of the quilt on it. Are you still with me? Then you have to put the envelope IN the box and write the address on the outside of the box and duct tape it all shut (if you can find the duct tape). Or, you can do like I usually do and tape everything up inside and have to untape the box again at the UPS place to figure out where you’re supposed to send it.
Okay. Now you have to figure out when and how to mail it so it will arrive on the right day, and be safe. Do you pay extra bucks and send it Next Day Air, so fewer people have a chance to lose it? Do you send it a week early and hope nobody throws it out by accident since it came so early? Do you insure it for some fantastic sum (what you really think it’s worth and would like to have if they’re stupid enough to lose this great big box) or do you just write “fabric” on the contents label and hope nobody will want to steal it? The possibilities are mind-boggling, but you persevere and send your quilt off to that great quilt depot in the sky. Then you wait. . . And wait. . . And wait.
By the time you’ve actually mailed the quilt to the show, you have probably decided you have to go to the show to see whether or not it actually got there and whether or not you got a prize. And since you’re going anyway, you might as well take a class or two. And if you take a class or two, you have to pay for them and round up all of the supplies, make hotel and plane reservations and - need I go on?
If you do get a prize or a ribbon, all is well with the world, the judges obviously knew what they were doing, and all the world is rosy for quite some time. If, on the other hand, you don’t get a ribbon, you feel rejected and unworthy, and you think maybe you won’t ever try entering a contest again. Until next time (there are advantages to being a perpetual optimist). The funny thing is, a quilt that wins a Best of Class ribbon at one show may not even place at another; a quilt that you just entered in a show on a whim may win Best of Class. You just never know, and, in the long run, it’s in the hands of the gods (or the quilt judges).
I think you have to keep in mind that to live life to the fullest, one must take risks; besides, whether or not your quilt wins a prize has no bearing on the importance of that quilt to you and your growth as a quilter and a person. The world needs us and our bit of color. It needs quilt shows, quilt guilds, and people who put themselves out to enter their work, to have it judged along with that of others, people who are good enough to win and strong enough to lose. I, personally, think EVERYBODY who has the determination, perseverance and chutspa to put their quilts in shows, especially juried and judged shows, deserves a ribbon. I think the ribbon should say:
Entering a piece in a Show - be it a Guild Show or a juried, national show, can be an experience fraught with mental and logistical pitfalls, but you just have to be strong and do it anyway. You have to keep in mind that even though the effort you put into showing your quilt is emotionally trying and physically draining, these shows are an inspiration to others, and “there is no better exercise for the heart than reaching out and lifting people up.”
Some people say they are reluctant to put their work in shows because it doesn’t seem to them that the work is good enough; I can identify with this; I NEVER think my work is good enough. My mother says that if what you did yesterday still looks good to you today, you probably haven’t done very much today. The quilts you made yesterday were stepping stones to where you are now, and the quilt you finished today is your leaping off point for the ones you make tomorrow. She also says, "If you're not living on the edge, you might be taking up too much space." It’s all part of the process, and when you show your work - you’ll probably find out that the quilt you thought was lousy gets “oohs” and “ahs” at the Show, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad, after all.
Another reason you might not want to put a quilt in a Show is that you realize that every time you show a quilt, you are showing the world a little piece of your soul. It’s true that in sharing a quilt, you show the world myriad things about yourself that someone looking at you just can’t see. They may know you only as a doctor, a scientist, or a secretary; yet when they see your quilts they can see you’re really a Victorian romantic at heart, or an adventurous bike racer, or have a secret sorrow spelled out plainly in the mourning quilt you made for a lost child. Your personality and emotions are displayed quite clearly in the fabric, in the pattern and the stitching. But you’re a big girl now, and you can handle it. Really.
The best reasons for “sharing your flame” by making a quilt for a show is that it is a great, guilt-free excuse to make a quilt that isn’t made for any other reason than that you want to make it. The quilt for the Show doesn’t have to match Aunt Hilda’s living room furniture, it doesn’t have to be the colors your three-year old niece likes, or have any other reason for existence. If it just happens to have your favorite fabric in it, and uses about six new techniques you just had to try, and means you had to buy lots of spools of the very newest in rayon and metallic thread - so be it. It’s for the Show, and we all have to make sacrifices for the Show, don’t we?
Entering your local Guild show may be emotionally trying, but not nearly the hassle of entering something in a national show. To enter a national, juried show, you first have to send a letter requesting contest information, sending an SASE. This is not as easy as it sounds, even if you know what an SASE, or worse, a BSASE (Business size Self-Addressed, Stamped Envelope) is. First, you have to locate the magazine and find where to mail the letter to request information on the contest. Were you reading it last out by the spa? Or in bed? Or maybe it’s still in the bag you took to Guild meeting? Maybe it self-destructed because you didn’t read it quickly enough?
Then, you have to find a clean piece of paper, TWO envelopes, and two or sometimes even THREE postage stamps. This is not easy in our house. Then you have to write the letter, address the envelope, remember to self-address the other envelope and put stamps on it, then actually put it in the mail. Then you wait. . . And wait. . . And wait. . .
When the information finally comes, you have to either make a quilt to fit the specifications of the contest, or figure out which one of the ones you’ve made recently fits the bill close enough to enter. We won’t even go INTO this part, we’ll assume you either make something or have something that will do.
When the quilt is done, you have to take a good photograph or slide of it. This involves calling up the person who currently has the portable quilt frames, arranging to go get two of them, giving them $100 deposit in case you lose or break them, get them in the car (a feat in and of itself), and get home without having the quilt frames break your front windshield (my husband has done this.) Then you have to buy fabric and make a great big piece of black or white fabric to hang on one of the quilt frames to be the background, and set the other frame up in front of it. Then you have to buy slide film, find the camera, wait for an overcast, not windy day, and take a whole roll of pictures of the quilt (or quilts) close-up and far away, and actually get the film to the developer. When the slides come back and only 1 or 2 turned out well, you take the good ones back to the developer and wait 10 working days while they duplicate the good slides, so you don’t have to go through the whole process the next time you want to enter that quilt in something. (I have given up on this process for large quilts and hire a professional photographer to do this part, but it feels like a cop-out.)
So, now you have slides, but most contests panels want more. You have to describe your quilt in 50 words or less (!!!!!), tell them what sorts of materials and batting you used (as if you can remember) and tell them how big it is (where in the world is that measuring tape?) Some places even make you send swatches of the front AND back of the quilt. (Do they really want 200 swatches?) By this time, you’ve misplaced the entry form. So, find the entry form again, as well as two more envelopes, ANOTHER two stamps, swatches from the quilt, and two good slides of the quilt.
That’s another thing - something to send the slides in. You don’t have any of those cute little plastic slide holders to send the slides in because the photo stores only sell them in packages of 10 sheets that cost $18.00, so you have to find a zip-lock sandwich bag and sew little pockets in, instead. Then you still have to fill out the form, put everything in one of the envelopes, and remember to put the SASE in with it. To add insult to injury, you have to find your checkbook and write out a check for $15 or more for the non-refundable entry fee for each quilt. Then you put the whole thing in the mail, and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.
If, for some reason, your quilt doesn’t get in, you feel terribly rejected for days. This is not good. You try to be a good sport. You try to remember that only people who TRY can fail. You tell yourself “better luck next time,” and then you find out someone you know DID get their quilt(s) juried in, and you feel lower than low. I think the best thing to do is to just pretend you never got your act together enough to enter. (Somehow, it feels worse being rejected than not entering.)
If, however, you DO get in the Show, take a few minutes and dance around and call everybody you know and tell them the wonderful news; but don’t relax yet, your work is just beginning. You have to fill in that new form they sent you, including that box that asks for the “approximate value,” warning you that they can’t deal with values greater than $1000. Get real. If I put down what my quilt is actually worth to me, the judges would fall off their chairs laughing. If I put down the cost of the materials and my time, I’d probably never make another quilt again. If I knew what my quilts were worth, I’d probably sell them, not put them in shows. I can’t deal with that box, so I usually just close my eyes and scribble something illegible. You just have to deal with it in your own inimitable fashion.
But you’re still not done. Oh, no, NOW you have to make sure your quilt is absolutely as perfect as you can make it. Then you have to make sure you have a sleeve and your own cloth label on the back, as well as THEIR paper label, put the quilt in a large, clean, plastic bag, and find or buy a box the quilt will fit in. Now you have to write out another check for the return postage fee, and enclose that in ANOTHER envelope along with the return mailing label (filled out) and a 3 x 5 card with the name of the quilt, its measurements, and the name and maker of the quilt on it. Are you still with me? Then you have to put the envelope IN the box and write the address on the outside of the box and duct tape it all shut (if you can find the duct tape). Or, you can do like I usually do and tape everything up inside and have to untape the box again at the UPS place to figure out where you’re supposed to send it.
Okay. Now you have to figure out when and how to mail it so it will arrive on the right day, and be safe. Do you pay extra bucks and send it Next Day Air, so fewer people have a chance to lose it? Do you send it a week early and hope nobody throws it out by accident since it came so early? Do you insure it for some fantastic sum (what you really think it’s worth and would like to have if they’re stupid enough to lose this great big box) or do you just write “fabric” on the contents label and hope nobody will want to steal it? The possibilities are mind-boggling, but you persevere and send your quilt off to that great quilt depot in the sky. Then you wait. . . And wait. . . And wait.
By the time you’ve actually mailed the quilt to the show, you have probably decided you have to go to the show to see whether or not it actually got there and whether or not you got a prize. And since you’re going anyway, you might as well take a class or two. And if you take a class or two, you have to pay for them and round up all of the supplies, make hotel and plane reservations and - need I go on?
If you do get a prize or a ribbon, all is well with the world, the judges obviously knew what they were doing, and all the world is rosy for quite some time. If, on the other hand, you don’t get a ribbon, you feel rejected and unworthy, and you think maybe you won’t ever try entering a contest again. Until next time (there are advantages to being a perpetual optimist). The funny thing is, a quilt that wins a Best of Class ribbon at one show may not even place at another; a quilt that you just entered in a show on a whim may win Best of Class. You just never know, and, in the long run, it’s in the hands of the gods (or the quilt judges).
I think you have to keep in mind that to live life to the fullest, one must take risks; besides, whether or not your quilt wins a prize has no bearing on the importance of that quilt to you and your growth as a quilter and a person. The world needs us and our bit of color. It needs quilt shows, quilt guilds, and people who put themselves out to enter their work, to have it judged along with that of others, people who are good enough to win and strong enough to lose. I, personally, think EVERYBODY who has the determination, perseverance and chutspa to put their quilts in shows, especially juried and judged shows, deserves a ribbon. I think the ribbon should say:
CONGRATULATIONS! THIS RIBBON IS AWARDED TO YOU, QUILTER EXTRAORDINARE, FOR
PERSEVERANCE AND BRAVADO ABOVE AND BEYOND THE CALL OF REASON.
THANKS FOR SHARING YOUR FLAME.
PERSEVERANCE AND BRAVADO ABOVE AND BEYOND THE CALL OF REASON.
THANKS FOR SHARING YOUR FLAME.