Didn’t do a bad job if I say
so myself, the jeans didn’t look daggy and I hoped my sons didn’t feel like
someone’s poor cousin by having to wear them. Hand stitching two patches on
ripped knees is one thing, but what I’ve seen over the past couple of weekends
is another thing entirely.
For the fifteenth year the
Tasmanian Quilting Guild held their annual getaway here in Poatina where they
set up their sewing machines and all manner of paraphernalia for four days of
intensive quilt making. To me, real quilters are a rare breed, possessing the
patience of saints as they create multitudes of squares of the most intricate
designs which then blend into the overall design of the entire quilt.
The village residents are
treated to an annual “Show and Tell” as each creator displays their work,
telling something of the story of its making, who it is for, and often how many
years it has taken to complete the project. The incredible skill elicits oohs
and aahs from those gathered, but there is also recognition of the love which
has gone into making particular ones where there is a special reason behind who
will be the recipient.
Over the past few years, the
Handweavers, Spinners and Dyers Guild of Tasmania have joined them on the same
weekend, so we get to see the skills of these ladies, and one bloke, who,
complete with their spinning wheels and looms and dyeing techniques, start with
the raw product and see it through to a completed garment or piece of work,
with beautiful results.
I am in awe of such skill
and dedication to their craft. These people are not simply making quilts or
scarves or garments, they are textile artists, and they have a lot of fun in
those few days as they spend time together, learn from each other, and
celebrate each other’s achievements.
However well I did my patch
up jobs all those years ago, all I was really doing was covering up a hole,
like putting on a band aid so what’s underneath can be fixed or obscured. The
patches these women create are not there to cover over something, apart of
course from when they become the finished product and someone actually gets to
sleep under them.
To watch them choose
materials, cut out hundreds, sometimes thousands of pieces, pin them, sew them,
iron them, stack them until there are enough, arrange them, then see the
squares sewn together is to witness an amazing process. Each little patch is
the start of something new, something bigger. The quality of their work tells
you instinctively that it will still be around on someone’s bed for decades to
come, and will be valued.
Patching things up implies
there’s been a problem, a rift that needs mending. It could be transforming if
we went beyond the quick cover up job or temporary solution to whatever challenges
we face each day, and took into other aspects of our lives as much love and care
as the quilters invest in producing their long lasting creations.
