I live in Western Massachusetts, an area full of artists and academics. I love that there are painters, writers, actors, and experts-in-their-field, all in this little valley. It makes for an easy place to live. My studio is located in Holyoke, across the river and just a mile from my home in South Hadley; one mile is the perfect distance for commuting. When it’s nice out, I can walk over to the studio and when I forget something in one place or the other, it is easy to go back to retrieve it.
For sixteen years, I ran my quilting business out of my home. Last year, I decided to move the business out of the house into a separate studio space. Working out of my home studio was wonderful while my daughter was small, as it allowed me to work in smaller chunks of time around her schedule. She’s now a teenager and spending more time with her own activities, so it was the right time for me to move out of the house. Plus, quilting had taken over the largest bedroom, the living room, and the front porch!
The very best part about the studio is that I have 700 square feet to spread out. When I worked at home, I only worked on one project at a time. Now, I can work on several projects at once, leaving multiple pieces in progress on my design wall. While working from home, I loved that my work and home life bled together, but now having a distinct separation between my home life and work life has been good for my own well-being. And, as an added bonus I can leave the mess behind at the end of the day.
There are lots of quilters in my family history. My mom is a quilter, my grandma was a quilter, and my dad’s great-grandparents were quilters. Great-grandpa would cut out the pieces and grandma would sew them together. My mom taught me to sew when I was five or six years old. I made some clothing while living at home, and hated every minute of it. I did not have any desire to sew or quilt as I was growing up. I could think of nothing more boring than looking at fabric, but I have always made stuff.
When I am home, I am Fully PRESENT and, when I am at work, I just CREATE
When I was a kid, I cross-stitched and embroidered. In high school and in college I cut out pictures from magazines and made many collages. When I was in my twenties, I started my first quilt with my then-husband. He wanted to make a quilt to talk about geometry with his middle school math students. Quilting was not for him, as he gave up part way through the process, but I was hooked. I didn’t read a book, or take a class, or ask my mom how to make a quilt because I needed to figure it out on my own. I didn’t want my mom to know that I might be interested in quilting so I borrowed my friend’s mother’s sewing machine to keep my quilting interest secret. That first quilt was not pretty, and it definitely had some technical issues, but I learned so much about how to quilt from it. I also learned that I needed to make a second quilt and a third quilt because there were so many ideas running through my head. I really learned to quilt over the next decade by trying new techniques and styles; one can never underestimate the value of putting in your ten thousand hours of work.
FAVORITE SAYING
Do the work
In 2001, I started longarming quilts for other quilters. I loved that work for many years because I love quilters; they are my favorite people, so collaborating with them was really fun. But, while I was working for other people, I considered myself a craftsperson, not an artist. When I stopped quilting for hire a couple of years ago and started spending more time working on my own projects, I was able to make the mental leap to “artist”. Really, not that much has changed in my process, except I gave myself permission to claim the word.
“Inspiration is for amateurs—the rest of us just show up and get to work.”
– Chuck Close
When I am not traveling to teach quilting, I try to be in my studio Monday-Friday 8am-3pm. During weeks when I don’t get a lot of studio time, I go in for a few hours on the weekend to catch up. If I haven’t been in the studio for a few days, I get cranky. My husband will gently say, “Are you going to go to the studio today?” That’s my clue that I need to go make something for a little while to save my sanity, and his. It’s very similar to my brother-in-law who is a runner. When he hasn’t run in a day or two, he gets antsy. He doesn’t understand quilting, but I think he understands why I quilt. I think people who are passionate about an activity need to participate, even for a few minutes, every day, to keep a healthy balance in their lives.
One thing about my creative process is that I need large chunks of time to get into the creative flow. I would rather have a whole day in the studio than four two-hour chunks of time. That is not always possible when one has children, other work, and commitments. I also really like to have a schedule and a plan, so the biggest challenges to my creative flow are snow days, half-days, and summer vacations from school.
Cleaning my studio, or folding one of my many piles of fabric helps me find inspiration; I often find inspiration while I work. Doing mundane tasks might remind me of a fabric I had forgotten about, or help me see color combinations in the pile that are new to me, which may start my brain working in a different way. Creative work is work; it’s rarely divinely inspired.
I like collections of small things—rows of small, repetitive blocks with hundreds of different color and patterns is exactly my jam. I have a creative style of “more is more—until it’s too much”. Sometimes my quilts are just too much—too much color, too many pieces, too chaotic. Giving order to the chaos is the challenge I like best in my creative process. I don’t always succeed, but for me, it’s about the process, not the finished product.
The wall of threads in my studio is organized by the way I think—in color. I can always find what I need, and they are visually calming to me.
As my best friend accurately describes, I am thoughtful, methodical, and deliberate with all of my work, but I would add that I am also decisive. I don’t spend too much time making color or fabric decisions. My philosophy and quilting, as in life, is that if I’ve made a wrong decision, I can correct it and then move forward.
My aerial map quilts commemorate a special place, a childhood home or a favorite vacation destination started when I was on my professional quilt journey. Whether the location is several city blocks or a meandering river with its tributaries, I begin with a paper map that will guide me to create one of my signature quilts in beautiful fabric.
I live in Western Massachusetts, an area full of artists and academics. I love that there are painters, writers, actors, and experts-in-their-field, all in this little valley. It makes for an easy place to live. My studio is located in Holyoke, across the river and just a mile from my home in South Hadley; one mile is the perfect distance for commuting. When it’s nice out, I can walk over to the studio and when I forget something in one place or the other, it is easy to go back to retrieve it.
For sixteen years, I ran my quilting business out of my home. Last year, I decided to move the business out of the house into a separate studio space. Working out of my home studio was wonderful while my daughter was small, as it allowed me to work in smaller chunks of time around her schedule. She’s now a teenager and spending more time with her own activities, so it was the right time for me to move out of the house. Plus, quilting had taken over the largest bedroom, the living room, and the front porch!
The very best part about the studio is that I have 700 square feet to spread out. When I worked at home, I only worked on one project at a time. Now, I can work on several projects at once, leaving multiple pieces in progress on my design wall. While working from home, I loved that my work and home life bled together, but now having a distinct separation between my home life and work life has been good for my own well-being. And, as an added bonus I can leave the mess behind at the end of the day.
There are lots of quilters in my family history. My mom is a quilter, my grandma was a quilter, and my dad’s great-grandparents were quilters. Great-grandpa would cut out the pieces and grandma would sew them together. My mom taught me to sew when I was five or six years old. I made some clothing while living at home, and hated every minute of it. I did not have any desire to sew or quilt as I was growing up. I could think of nothing more boring than looking at fabric, but I have always made stuff.
When I am home, I am Fully PRESENT and, when I am at work, I just CREATE
When I was a kid, I cross-stitched and embroidered. In high school and in college I cut out pictures from magazines and made many collages. When I was in my twenties, I started my first quilt with my then-husband. He wanted to make a quilt to talk about geometry with his middle school math students. Quilting was not for him, as he gave up part way through the process, but I was hooked. I didn’t read a book, or take a class, or ask my mom how to make a quilt because I needed to figure it out on my own. I didn’t want my mom to know that I might be interested in quilting so I borrowed my friend’s mother’s sewing machine to keep my quilting interest secret. That first quilt was not pretty, and it definitely had some technical issues, but I learned so much about how to quilt from it. I also learned that I needed to make a second quilt and a third quilt because there were so many ideas running through my head. I really learned to quilt over the next decade by trying new techniques and styles; one can never underestimate the value of putting in your ten thousand hours of work.
FAVORITE SAYING
Do the work
In 2001, I started longarming quilts for other quilters. I loved that work for many years because I love quilters; they are my favorite people, so collaborating with them was really fun. But, while I was working for other people, I considered myself a craftsperson, not an artist. When I stopped quilting for hire a couple of years ago and started spending more time working on my own projects, I was able to make the mental leap to “artist”. Really, not that much has changed in my process, except I gave myself permission to claim the word.
“Inspiration is for amateurs—the rest of us just show up and get to work.”
– Chuck Close
When I am not traveling to teach quilting, I try to be in my studio Monday-Friday 8am-3pm. During weeks when I don’t get a lot of studio time, I go in for a few hours on the weekend to catch up. If I haven’t been in the studio for a few days, I get cranky. My husband will gently say, “Are you going to go to the studio today?” That’s my clue that I need to go make something for a little while to save my sanity, and his. It’s very similar to my brother-in-law who is a runner. When he hasn’t run in a day or two, he gets antsy. He doesn’t understand quilting, but I think he understands why I quilt. I think people who are passionate about an activity need to participate, even for a few minutes, every day, to keep a healthy balance in their lives.
One thing about my creative process is that I need large chunks of time to get into the creative flow. I would rather have a whole day in the studio than four two-hour chunks of time. That is not always possible when one has children, other work, and commitments. I also really like to have a schedule and a plan, so the biggest challenges to my creative flow are snow days, half-days, and summer vacations from school.
Cleaning my studio, or folding one of my many piles of fabric helps me find inspiration; I often find inspiration while I work. Doing mundane tasks might remind me of a fabric I had forgotten about, or help me see color combinations in the pile that are new to me, which may start my brain working in a different way. Creative work is work; it’s rarely divinely inspired.
I like collections of small things—rows of small, repetitive blocks with hundreds of different color and patterns is exactly my jam. I have a creative style of “more is more—until it’s too much”. Sometimes my quilts are just too much—too much color, too many pieces, too chaotic. Giving order to the chaos is the challenge I like best in my creative process. I don’t always succeed, but for me, it’s about the process, not the finished product.
The wall of threads in my studio is organized by the way I think—in color. I can always find what I need, and they are visually calming to me.
As my best friend accurately describes, I am thoughtful, methodical, and deliberate with all of my work, but I would add that I am also decisive. I don’t spend too much time making color or fabric decisions. My philosophy and quilting, as in life, is that if I’ve made a wrong decision, I can correct it and then move forward.
My aerial map quilts commemorate a special place, a childhood home or a favorite vacation destination started when I was on my professional quilt journey. Whether the location is several city blocks or a meandering river with its tributaries, I begin with a paper map that will guide me to create one of my signature quilts in beautiful fabric.
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I live in Western Massachusetts, an area full of artists and academics. I love that there are painters, writers, actors, and experts-in-their-field, all in this little valley. It makes for an easy place to live. My studio is located in Holyoke, across the river and just a mile from my home in South Hadley; one mile is the perfect distance for commuting. When it’s nice out, I can walk over to the studio and when I forget something in one place or the other, it is easy to go back to retrieve it.
For sixteen years, I ran my quilting business out of my home. Last year, I decided to move the business out of the house into a separate studio space. Working out of my home studio was wonderful while my daughter was small, as it allowed me to work in smaller chunks of time around her schedule. She’s now a teenager and spending more time with her own activities, so it was the right time for me to move out of the house. Plus, quilting had taken over the largest bedroom, the living room, and the front porch!
The very best part about the studio is that I have 700 square feet to spread out. When I worked at home, I only worked on one project at a time. Now, I can work on several projects at once, leaving multiple pieces in progress on my design wall. While working from home, I loved that my work and home life bled together, but now having a distinct separation between my home life and work life has been good for my own well-being. And, as an added bonus I can leave the mess behind at the end of the day.
There are lots of quilters in my family history. My mom is a quilter, my grandma was a quilter, and my dad’s great-grandparents were quilters. Great-grandpa would cut out the pieces and grandma would sew them together. My mom taught me to sew when I was five or six years old. I made some clothing while living at home, and hated every minute of it. I did not have any desire to sew or quilt as I was growing up. I could think of nothing more boring than looking at fabric, but I have always made stuff.
When I am home, I am Fully PRESENT and, when I am at work, I just CREATE
When I was a kid, I cross-stitched and embroidered. In high school and in college I cut out pictures from magazines and made many collages. When I was in my twenties, I started my first quilt with my then-husband. He wanted to make a quilt to talk about geometry with his middle school math students. Quilting was not for him, as he gave up part way through the process, but I was hooked. I didn’t read a book, or take a class, or ask my mom how to make a quilt because I needed to figure it out on my own. I didn’t want my mom to know that I might be interested in quilting so I borrowed my friend’s mother’s sewing machine to keep my quilting interest secret. That first quilt was not pretty, and it definitely had some technical issues, but I learned so much about how to quilt from it. I also learned that I needed to make a second quilt and a third quilt because there were so many ideas running through my head. I really learned to quilt over the next decade by trying new techniques and styles; one can never underestimate the value of putting in your ten thousand hours of work.
FAVORITE SAYING
Do the work
In 2001, I started longarming quilts for other quilters. I loved that work for many years because I love quilters; they are my favorite people, so collaborating with them was really fun. But, while I was working for other people, I considered myself a craftsperson, not an artist. When I stopped quilting for hire a couple of years ago and started spending more time working on my own projects, I was able to make the mental leap to “artist”. Really, not that much has changed in my process, except I gave myself permission to claim the word.
“Inspiration is for amateurs—the rest of us just show up and get to work.”
– Chuck Close
When I am not traveling to teach quilting, I try to be in my studio Monday-Friday 8am-3pm. During weeks when I don’t get a lot of studio time, I go in for a few hours on the weekend to catch up. If I haven’t been in the studio for a few days, I get cranky. My husband will gently say, “Are you going to go to the studio today?” That’s my clue that I need to go make something for a little while to save my sanity, and his. It’s very similar to my brother-in-law who is a runner. When he hasn’t run in a day or two, he gets antsy. He doesn’t understand quilting, but I think he understands why I quilt. I think people who are passionate about an activity need to participate, even for a few minutes, every day, to keep a healthy balance in their lives.
One thing about my creative process is that I need large chunks of time to get into the creative flow. I would rather have a whole day in the studio than four two-hour chunks of time. That is not always possible when one has children, other work, and commitments. I also really like to have a schedule and a plan, so the biggest challenges to my creative flow are snow days, half-days, and summer vacations from school.
Cleaning my studio, or folding one of my many piles of fabric helps me find inspiration; I often find inspiration while I work. Doing mundane tasks might remind me of a fabric I had forgotten about, or help me see color combinations in the pile that are new to me, which may start my brain working in a different way. Creative work is work; it’s rarely divinely inspired.
I like collections of small things—rows of small, repetitive blocks with hundreds of different color and patterns is exactly my jam. I have a creative style of “more is more—until it’s too much”. Sometimes my quilts are just too much—too much color, too many pieces, too chaotic. Giving order to the chaos is the challenge I like best in my creative process. I don’t always succeed, but for me, it’s about the process, not the finished product.
The wall of threads in my studio is organized by the way I think—in color. I can always find what I need, and they are visually calming to me.
As my best friend accurately describes, I am thoughtful, methodical, and deliberate with all of my work, but I would add that I am also decisive. I don’t spend too much time making color or fabric decisions. My philosophy and quilting, as in life, is that if I’ve made a wrong decision, I can correct it and then move forward.
My aerial map quilts commemorate a special place, a childhood home or a favorite vacation destination started when I was on my professional quilt journey. Whether the location is several city blocks or a meandering river with its tributaries, I begin with a paper map that will guide me to create one of my signature quilts in beautiful fabric.
The Women Create Foundation is a catalyst for small but significant strides to empower women creators through grants that help bring projects to life and foster innovation.
