...if there was one, and there were quilt police, I would be behind bars with absolutely no chance for parole. You're wondering what this picture has to do with quilt jail, read on... you'll see. The first quilt I ever owned was a gift from my great-grandmother. She made two, nearly identical, quilts; one for me and one for my sister. They were (
if memory serves, and that's a big "if") pieced from some sort of a combination Rail Fence/ Log Cabin pattern of irregular strips and tied, not quilted, so I suppose they weren't even quilts at all, in the truest sense. I took mine with me when I went away to college, it was the perfect thing to lie upon when sunbathing. As if it isn't bad enough to think about how much baby oil that quilt absorbed, think of this: I would "lay out" on a flat roof covered with asphalt shingles that my friends and I could access through a bathroom window in our freshman dorm. You can only imagine how badly destroyed that quilt became; I threw it away. Oh yeah, and then there was my skin... well, what can I say? It was 1971. Lock me up, throw away the key; I deserve it. The memory of that stained and abused quilt haunts me, even after all these years. I plan to recreate it, for Grandma; think of it as a long-overdue act of retribution.
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EQ Design for 2014 "Grandma's Gift ~ A Recreation" 45" X 63"
This could be subtitled: "Behind Bars" |
Life is Good!
