Dizzy-making

I am beginning to get dizzy with all these patterns, but maybe I'm just getting sick. The Greek Key and the Arrow design strips are in the middle. The Greek Key uses way too much fabric and is too labor intensive to be pleasurable for me. I liked better the arrow, but I'm getting really tired of these fabrics and think I'm ready to be done with the quilt - at least ready to put pieces together. Some of these strips are just too short and will have to be joined to other pieces, so it may turn out to be a hodge-podge, which is no big deal for me. I will see in class on Monday whether there are any more really great patterns to learn, and if not, I'm ready to make some nifty connections between these strips and make the thing all come together.

Stop already!

This will be my last strip of this checkered type; thank goodness we have another class tomorrow night because I've got enough strips to pull together a complete quilt, but I don't want to stop. See what tomorrow will bring with new tricks and techniques.

Oonie loves this flowery red fabric, so I must save some of it for her quilt; I like that they will both share a fabric as they do a DNA...

Keeping it going with Zigzags...

I'm loving making these strips for a Seminole Strip Quilt, and working in these larger patters is gratifying because I can get a strip done without too much fussing around. I showed these strips to my son Jack because I was excited about how his quilt was coming along. He took one look and said, "It looks the same as it did before," so I'm thinking the aesthetics are going to be utterly missed on him. As with most things, I must do it for the sheer pleasure of process, of DOING it. The goal, the end, is never a reason for spending time on something. Even playing long tones on the cello has to be a process that pleases me or I won't do it. I'd rather play Bach's Cello Suites, stumbling around in my music making, that practicing the way a real musician needs to do; I suppose that's why I am such an amateur at most things I do.
The dog beckons...

"We have to squeeze and press the beauty from the world"

I have assigned W. A. Mathieu's The Musical Life: Reflections on What it is and How to Live It to my 101-108 course, and as I was reading pieces of it on the train going into class this morning, I pondered this notion of squeezing and pressing beauty from the world. I took this photograph from my seat to see if within the frame of a photographic image there was beauty in the lines, the light or the aesthetic of the inside of my morning train. The compartmentalization of each set of seats, the lines of lights and the metal racks above our heads create a decidedly cold environment, and yet when it's cold and dark outside, it isn't the worst place to be in the early mornings. The woman's hair and patchy furred hood on her jacket make for the only spots of softness in the photo, and those spots are ratty and ragged instead of cozy and soft. Beauty? I think I shall hold my judgment until I can get my hands on beautiful fabrics and quilt tonight.

My students did little of the reading in Mathieu's book because they said it was difficult; as one student put it, "What does this book have to do with English and how are you presenting this to teach English?" I think my goal is to hand my students ownership so that they can settle with the materials in any course and tackle those materials with confidence and fearlessness.

One student wrote, "Can you be more explisive whenever your are giving assignment so that we can understand?" and another asks, "What is the def. of implication," a word I have gone over, as I always do, in probably every class so that they can ultimately write conclusions that move logically from their own texts and then ponder the implications...

Still one student worries about learning "how to remain calm when feeling frustrated," and I wonder if any teachers have ever challenged this student or expected anything of her or him. And yet, for all their grousing, 2 or 3 students got sturdy Cs on their last essay, which seems promising at this point in the term because I do get them to write complete essays with quoted evidence from the very start. They are doing it, and I will watch in awe as more and more of them find their way into writing contextually, clearly and accurately. It is a journey.

Meanwhile, my students in the lower level are engaging in passionate conversations about the text, slamming quoted evidence at each other and discusssing the role of race in The Soloist with the kind of authority and vehemence that close reading academics use! I got goosebumps when they go at it like this, and I have high hopes for them all. When I told them that my quartet was going to come play for them, one student was so enthusiastic that I thought she was being facetious! This is why I teach - to share with my students the love I feel for beauty in the world, in them.

Valentine's Day...

While rambunctious Max and Nicholas were dashing around in pretend games, I was patching my little heart out so that Oona and Leo could go out for dinner. I think it was the most loving and productive Valentine's Day because we made cookies - Snickerdoodles - and I made two strips more strips for the quilt I am making for son, Jack. The colors and patterns make me flip, and I don't even mind the ritual of measuring, cutting and sewing; just to watch the pattern and the pieces blend and patch into something totally joyful and zippy is worth boxes and boxes of chocolates. Oh, alright, not boxes of dark chocolate caramels, but this is a close second. Is it just because I've been sick and the process of patching fabrics together into something more intricate and more playful gives me energy I just don't have for running or doing much else? Or is it that I've got stacks of papers that need to be read and graded?

Playing

I remember reading John Ciardi trying to explain that poetry was words bumping into one another; I like that notion and think the same thing can be said about all art whether it is movement, color, texture, line or image. It also really reflects the say our minds work; how often have we been unable to think of a word because something else came along and bumped it off the memory deck?

Quilting keeps the mind on task in ways that writing doesn't - fortunately. I love writing because it has so much MORE texture, line, movement, imagery, color and BUMP than any other art form; the problem is that education sometimes squeezes the juice out of it. And so I am making a Seminole strip quilt which began with the pattern above, but then I learned that son Jack was interested in a cozy quilt. I chucked this idea and tried to line up some more manly fabrics and colors. The result is below:


These are trout in the white spaces, but they don't show up as well as I'd like; this week I will do some harlequin strips and try to use bigger strips of the fish.