When I was little, I used to love going into my gramma's workroom--at least that's how I thought of it. I have no idea what she called that room, but it was a magical place to me. It was where she made quilts.
There was a frame she used to build them on, rolling the edges as she sewed--always by hand--the same way I liked to sew the doll clothes I made. Must have been something in our genes.
Yesterday I attended a quilters' exhibit, and as you might guess from the photo above, I wasn't the only one amazed by what I saw. If you click on the photo you might be able to tell that the images on the white background are bits of applique. It's an art that confounds me; I can't imagine needlework that could be more demanding.
Reading the sign next to that quilt, the artist reveals it took her a year and a half to finish it. Not surprising, considering the demanding detail involved. And also not surprising, this was the quilt that won both main awards: the prize for best quilt as well as acknowledgment at being the people's choice. Hear, hear and bravo!
This woman, working on her own small piece of applique didn't mind my taking a photo of her at work. Inspiring, but not an art I feel capable of taking up.
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