Of Bobbins & Bosoms: A Mammogram Just Saved My Life

Late last year, I was thinking "I am at a creative impasse, I have no new inspiration, I am repeating myself in my art, and also in this long, tedious, redundant thought-sentence."

At which point my exasperated right breast said, "Hold my beer."

It proceeded to gift me with a Stage 1A breast cancer, and now I have SO much new creative inspiration!  Specifically, everything I see, own, make or have made, looks like a bosom. 

Many of my latest gel plate prints, made with doily-like stencils, look like this.

My newest rubber stamp

Random pieced improv triangle mandalas that happened to be on my design wall

My breast...er...best friend.

My surgery is next week -- just a lumpectomy. They'll pull out the cancer plus a safety margin, then rearrange my batting to fill in the gap (Just like trapunto!). I'll need a week or so of radiation, followed by five years of estrogen blockers. The cure rate is 95%. I am a little nervous about the surgery, but my overwhelming emotion is deep gratitude.

I found this stencil in a thrift shop and clearly it's for describing breast surgery options -- do you have another explanation?

Gratitude at my stunning unearned luck in getting one of the easiest-to-treat cancers. Gratitude for my annual mammogram (for which I routinely dragged my feet, so mine were more like every year-and-a-half. I will be more prompt in the future). Thank you, health insurance policy. Thank you, medical researchers who have made breast cancer so much more survivable.  Thank you Paula, angel, friend, and scientist, who swooped in at the height of my panic, in the awful waiting periods between procedures and results. She coaxed me down from the ledge of terror, onto the more spacious ledge of science. One of the many things she said that I clutched onto is that cancers caught within a year are far less likely to be life-threatening than those that go longer. (Yes, I often need angelic Ph.D's to state the obvious to my face.)

So in conclusion, if you have one or more breasts, this is my reminder to you -- and to me -- that the miseries of mammography, waiting, callbacks, biopsy, genetic tests, and more waiting -- all that is minor compared to the relief you’ll feel if something bad is caught early (or even late, but less late).

An annual mammogram just saved my life. And for sure it has changed the way I look at the world. 

Another gel plate print, potentially titled "Festive breast"

This yarmulke and all the others that I've made: Totally mammarian. 

Stencil: Paisley? Or breast side view? 

I truly don't feel I need thoughts and prayers, but if you have any to spare, please forward them to the heroic women (possibly including you, dear reader), who have gone through, are going through, will go through so much more challenging treatments. 

P.S. My quilt ideas are evolving. Have you made a breast cancer quilt?

Seminole and Miccosukee Patchwork in the News, and How We Can Help

I have given several talks to guilds recently about my cityscape quilts. The talk mentions 'Seminole patchwork', which can be used to create the effect of decorative brickwork in modern city buildings. Here’s my slide on the subject. ("Quoin" is what decorative brickwork in building corners is called)

Since I started quilting in the 90s, one of my most-used books has been Cheryl Bradkin’s “Seminole Patchwork,” published in 1992 (Its cover is shown on the upper right of the image above.) Bradkin (who is not a tribe member) figured out how quilters can use Seminole’s piecing techniques to create wonderful complex-looking designs.

Called the “grandmothers of strip piecing,” the Seminole, and their related tribe, the Miccosukee, sewed strip sets, cut them apart, and rearranged them into bold, graphic patterns, starting more than 100 years ago, long before the quilt industry introduced rotary cutters and mats. They sewed on treadle and hand-crank machines.

They created long, colorful, intricate and precise patchwork bands, which were then stitched into clothing, especially skirts. Here's a vintage postcard depicting those skirts. 

Here are three skirts for sale on ebay. Along with patchwork, the skirts often include a lot of rickrack! 

Here's a more modern skirt for sale on a different site. 

 More about that history with incredible photos, is here. Another photo of a single, wonderful skirt is here.  The techniques were also used to make doll garments, sold to tourists.

So a month ago, browsing the news, when mention of the Seminole tribe came up on my feed. I clicked on it, and the photo stopped me in my tracks. A group of women, wearing the unmistakable pieced skirts, were holding protest signs. (See the photo here.) One sign reads: “Stay Out of My Swamp.”

They were protesting the prison in the Everglades, their home. The prison’s official name, "Alligator Alcatraz," is a brutality joke. Some visitors have reported that inmates are held with starvation rations, 24-7 bright lights, and inadequate medical care. Two-thirds of the inmates have no criminal record. Official accounts say a half-dozen inmates have died there. Many more are being deported to unknown places. 

The Seminole and Miccosukee have been protesting this facility from the very beginning, originally for its threat to the environment.

And this week, the tribe was in the news again. On Sunday, July 27, 2025, 14 miles from the prison, a fire destroyed Miccosukee family homes and a cultural center. Along with holding irreplaceable artifacts, the center is where tribal members learned sewing. “What we have lost there is a lot of history in terms of the patchwork and in terms of the kind of stitching and sewing that that has been done over the decades,” Curtis Osceola of the Miccosukee Tribe was quoted as saying in a report by a local tv news station, here. 

Another report, in the Naples Daily News, says the tribe is collecting donations to assist in rebuilding. 

Donations can be addressed to the Tiger Fire Relief Fund c/o Miccosukee Corporation, PO Box 440021, Miami, FL 33144, or dropped off at the Miccosukee Casino & Resort at 500 Southwest 177th Avenue, Miami, FL 33194.

I sent a donation, and have written to them to ask what more we can do, including possibly sending sewing supplies. I have not heard back yet, but will keep you posted. Watch this page for updates. 

Art Lessons from the Beyond (and the Louvre): Homage to Eustache LeSueur

Do you take loads of photos of museum art? And then they sit forever in your computer?
They make wonderful palette cleansers -- fast projects, low on stress, high on learning, as you study the art, figure out what the artist was doing, and what makes the piece so compelling. 

In a December blog post I showed a bejeweled tribute to a 1763 painting by Fragonard that I photographed in the Louvre five years ago. (Find that article here.) 

Here's the next piece of art I tackled, from the same Louvre visit, and more than 100 years older. It's called "St. Bruno being Carried Up to Heaven," by Eustache LeSueur, circa 1645. (This was one of 22 paintings that LeSueur, a celebrated painter and art professor(!), made about the life of St. Bruno.) (Who was St. Bruno? Born in 1030, he too was also celebrated, for rejecting worldly pleasures, and establishing a monastery in the Chartreuse Mountains of France.)

I was just taken with it -- first, the luminous blue and gold, and second, the drama, beauty, and optimism of his ascent, not to mention the weirdness of the underdressed rotund angels. 

The first thing I did was trace the drawing, which I do in my CorelDraw graphics design program, but could have done by hand with my lightbox.

With a painting that's out of copyright, and a photo taken by me, there shouldn't be any issues about using, tracing, or interpreting it. (It would be a different story if it were modern art and/or still under copyright, and/or I was using someone else's photo -- then I would have to seek permission.) Here's what my tracing looked like. 

Hmmm. That's a heckuva confusing clump. To understand it better, I cut everyone apart. Below is the saint, minus the arm of one angel under his arm on the right, and minus the front of another angel peeking out between his legs.

All of them were cut up here: 

Those two angels entwined with him were problematic -- especially since the top one is headless!

So I decided to banish them, fill out the saint to close those gaps, and then bring the two lowest angels inward, to just touch him. 

I did it all with raw-edge applique, and it's only about 7" square, so this was a one-evening project. I zigzagged everyone in place, surrounded them with quilted gold energy lines, crammed in two clouds, and all in all, had a wonderful time reveling in, learning from, and celebrating an intriguing work of art. Professor LeSueur is still teaching! 

Turn Random Quilted Strips Into Containers

I love shopping at craft fairs. But vending my own stuff ? Sooner or later, most fiber artists learn that craft fairs are an exercise in masochism. Most shoppers won't pay quilters anything close to what our time and materials costs.

On the other hand, even after a half-dozen craft fair financial failures (but social wins), I still love the idea of doing a craft fair. Whenever I'm invited, I enjoy a few days of fantasizing about best-case scenarios - especially the camaraderie! I love talking to other artists! And civilians! And best of all, being forced to support the bake sale!  I think of all those things, before experience reminds me to sadly say "no." 
This year, while deciding not to do a super-fun sounding community holiday craft sale, I gave myself an extra 72 hours to brainstorm the alluring but frustrating question: What have I made, or could I possibly make that could earn me a minimum of $4/hour + materials + show entry fee (@$50)?

That sent me to my box of "quiltlets" - quilted and/or embellished strips that were intended as wrist cuffs, coffee cuffs, and/or bookmarks. I made a nice stack of them about five years ago, and kept in a  well-sealed box in my sewing room. Here's a favorite. My tutorial for this strip was in a 2013 blog post, here.

Curled into a cuff: 

Back to the present - I decided to try making it more practical/appealing by turning it into a container. I covered a stiff interfacing circle with fabric, then hand sewed it in the bottom with strong beading thread. 

Voila, a cute little container. (The flap is sewn shut.)

It can hold lightweight items by itself; or slip in a small glass to hold fresh flowers.

Then I gave it a decorative yarn topping. (former tzitzit.)

Counting all the hours, past and present, at a hypothetical craft fair, I would generously price it at only $50. Craft fair shoppers, I know what you're thinking: $8. I gave it to my cousins, (free),  who loved it.

Next, I plucked out this 9" x 6" denim, burlap, silk and lace cuff, with a vintage brass button and navy loopy trim all the way around. That was one of the best old lace fragments in my collection.

 Installed a base, and here's the vase! (hey that rhymes!).

At a craft fair, I would want to charge a Justice in the Universe Price of $60, which, again, no one would pay. Last week, I was delighted to sell it to a visiting friend for $15. No entry fee, no booth to set up, she got a bargain, and I received the satisfaction of knowing I'd gotten a small reward for it, and it went to an appreciative home - win-win, in a non-profit sort of way.

Next up is a confetti strip. It was created with a superfun technique. (Strew colorful scraps on a long strip of stiff fusible interfacing with fabric on both sides. Cover with a layer of tulle, then freemotion quilt on top.) Getting this far only took a couple of hours.

I set in a covered interfacing circle in the bottom. It looks really cute with a plant inside. 

The vintage plastic button is priceless,

For extra fun, I used a hot tool to melt holes in old juice/milk carton lids, then stitched them to the bottom as feet. 

This will be a present for a friend who is environmentally-oriented. 

Here are two more denim cuffs that needed a new purpose in life. As bracelets....

...they were pretty darn clunky...

But sewn shut, with a base installed....

They're actually kind of useful and cute, for paper clips or plants! The art deco button on the lower left is one of my absolute all time favorites. It deserves an appreciative home!

Next, one was one of my favorite quiltlets: It features 12 chunky delicious vintage plastic buttons, the cream of my collection. (The plaid fabric button on the upper right was later replaced with a brighter, red plastic one.)

But it was SO stiff and unwieldy as a bracelet. So I went overboard. I stitched a round base in the bottom, made a top lid from fusible interfacing covered with fabric. Onto the lid, I hot-glued an old plastic thread-spool covered with polka-dot fabric. I added two milk-lid pincushions, one decorated with a tassle trim, the other circled with a black-and-white ribbon. 

Let's summarize: 12 of the best buttons from a lifelong collection; fascinating vintage trim and ribbon; 4 hours of work; new double-sided fusible interfacing and new quilting fabric; 25 years of experience as an artist. In The Fair Universe, this item would be valued at $18,843. 

So I sent it to a dear friend who is herself an artisan and loves this color combination. She was thrilled, a priceless reward.  

But I do hope she attempts to insure it for $18,000. And I am happy in the knowledge that even if, heaven forbid, burglars invade her home, they will leave this behind (unless she puts jewelry in it). 

In sum: No matter how many ways I try to talk myself into doing a craft fair, the right answer for my style of labor-intensive fiber art is to gift it to family and friends who will appreciate it. And, of course, I'm continuing to sell my art  quilts on commission to people who appreciate quilts and a fair price. Private sales to art/quilt collectors don't provide the socialization, excitement, or bake sale of a holiday craft fair; but it is potentially a way to be a working artist.

Homage to Fragonard, or, Fun & Learning with your Favorite Museum Snapshots

Need a fast holiday gift? How about turning your favorite museum art photos into mini-quilts?

 Before:

After: 

UPDATE!

Backstory:

Do you take a ton of photos at art museums? I sure do, because I see so many art lessons, about color, composition, creativity, and courage.

These photos are fun to revisit from time to time, but not much happens with them. 

Until a couple of  weeks ago, when the Notre Dame Cathedral was reopened, five years after the horrific fire. 

Days before that fire, we were visiting Paris, including Notre Dame. (I blogged about it here.)  

We also went to the Louvre. We had no plan, but wound up spending a lot of time in the 15th-19th century French painting galleries (blogged here.)

One of the dozens of photos I took was this. Titled "Rinaldo in the Garden of the Palace of Armida," it was painted by Rococo artist Jean-Honore Fragonard, circa 1763. 

It's an over-the-top decadent scene, which is the point of Rococo. On the right, nubile, pale women are escorting a soldier (You can tell by his massive golden helmet, adorned with...feathers? Do the feathers make the enemy laugh so hard that they're immobilized?)

On the far left, another tantalizing pale  women emerges from a cave to look on. 

At first sight, I admired the pastel palette, which I almost always avoid. Pinks! Yellows! So not my thing, but, WOW! I also loved the  fluffiness. And the artistic skill here is fantastic; so few strokes convey so much, especially semi-transparent drapery. Fragonard is the man! 

So thinking about Notre Dame two weeks ago got me looking at my photo of this painting, and that got me doing a little research. 

The soldier -- Rinaldo -- was a Crusader, and his troops were about to invade Jerusalem. But a witch named Armida (I assume that's the gal on the far left?) wanted to stop the invasion, so she kidnapped him. She took him -- in her magic chariot -- to her magic garden, where she planned to kill him. Instead, she fell in love with him; he never returned to war and they lived happily ever after.

This ostensible history was told in an epic poem called "Jerusalem Delivered," by Italian writer Torquato Tasso, published in 1581. 

The story was performed as an opera in Paris in 1761. Historians postulate that Fragonard either attended or heard about it there. 

I decided to celebrate this piece, and learn from it, without stressing myself out. I did a cross between copying and riffing. 

Step 1. I started out with a 9" x 7" piece of stiff interfacing (I like Peltex) with the fusible side up (or use two-sided fusible interfacing and put parchment paper on bottom when pressing). 

Step 2. Start cutting triangle-ish pieces -- I was going for a "low poly" look so I picked triangles. (You could choose rectangles, ovals, hexagons, or anything). I used batiks for a painterly effect, and tried to approximate colors and shades, and location. Studying the painting closely to do this is where I learned the most, including understanding the artist's composition and how he created the two focal points, with the white-skinned people and Rinaldo's sash. 

Step 3. Keep adding fabric until all the interfacing is covered. Fabric pieces will overlap. If the fabric isn't touching the fusible on the interfacing, use a glue stick to adhere it.

Step 4. Press everything in place. The hot iron will also dry any glue. 

Step 5. I first machine-stitched about 13 diagonal straight lines across the scene, at 3/4" intervals. This held everything in place a little better than just glue and fusible. These are light-colored lines of stitching that you can barely see in the photos.

Step 6.  The most fun part: hand stitching. I used embroidery floss and added long stitches to mirror the implied or actual detail lines and brush strokes of the original. Since this is a small piece, I think I did all the stitching in about 2-3 hours while watching tv. 

I used a lot of variegated embroidery thread skeins. On Rinaldo's gold sash, the browns and golds are from just one thread. (The white thread on the pale people is not variegated). 

Step 7. I glued/fused a piece of fabric to cover the back. 

Step 8. Trim all the edges even and straight. Then I did a corded edging, something close to a satin stitch all the way around, with metallic gold thread on top and in the bobbin, enclosing a gold embroidery thread as "cord". (If you look up "corded edging" you'll find it's easy to do and helps make raw edges like this neater than just doing a satin stitch without a "cord.")

Then I went back to my original picture to study the frame. The painting's golden frame is almost as over-the-top as the painting. I figured I could get that effect with lace.  First I auditioned white lace....

Definitely not -- the frame is now competing with the white figures, who are the focus of the painting. So I decided to paint that lace gold, same as the actual frame. 

I used acrylic Lumiere paint, mixed with a bit of fabric medium. (Any acrylic paint should work, and if you add fabric medium it will thin it a bit.) I first let it dry bumpy like this, and basted it in place, but I didn't like the look; The ruffles drew too much attention. 

So I undid the basting, pressed the lace as flat as I could, and resewed it in place. I like it much better this way. 

And that's my happy-ish ending! True, now I think my figures look like Halloween ghosts (or, much worse, KKK refugees? Oh no!!! Too late for me to fix that!) But it's still a relatively happy ending, compared to that of Fragonard, who, in hindsight, had picked the wrong clientele. Along came the French Revolution, and most of them were executed. His work was ignored for years, before he was rediscovered. I hope he's looking on and forgives me for my lazy, yet respectful tribute to his work. He opened my eyes to new composition, focus, and color ideas! Merci, Jean-Honore! 

UPDATE (12/27/24): My kid (who is an artist) saw this piece and decided it needed something more. So they added jewelry! That's the photo you see at the top of this page! Now we're talking serious Rococo!