Is it wrong to obsess about sewing stuff to other stuff?
I know that to the untrained eye this looks like a bundle of unloved scraps. And I’m not certain I can convey how pleasing a pile of perfectly measured shapes sewn together in a chain with an exact quarter inch seam is to me.
I spend a lot of my day thinking about quilting. If I’m unable to sleep, I imagine the patterns I’m going to make in my soon-to-be-finished (surely?) quilt. I think of thread colours that would complement the twenty or so different fabrics in the patchwork. I wonder which fabric I should use for the edges and the back of the quilt. I visualise the finished thing lying on my bed and wonder whether I’m even going to like it after having worked on it for so long.
At work today, I caught myself wishing I could order all of my patchwork blocks into lines instead of planning lessons and marking.
It’s nice to have a project to think about in snatched minutes during the day.
In fact, quilting is turning out to be the perfect pastime for me. It’s something I can obsess about and use to avoid thinking about difficult things. It’s creative, but not too terrifyingly creative if I don’t want it to be. It has rules, but I can break them if I decide to and make my own if I want to. It’s precise and has enough maths in it to delight me. It’s long-term and encourages me to practise things I’m not great at: patience, strategic thinking and spatial awareness. I can do as much or as little of it as I want to.
Just ten minutes helps a quilt along and an hour creates a bundle of scraps pieced together like the one above.
I think it’s okay to obsess about it for now.