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Last month ago I attended  a small  critique group with four other women artists from NJ.  Attending it  is only something I started doing recently  — that is, accepting the invitation to get out from behind my computers and meet  with other quilt makers to show and discuss our quilts.  I find each person in the group inspiring and true to the making of their own unique work.

During the discussion, several of us began talking about various frustrations we have with our work.  For example, one spoke of often not feeling connected.  I spoke of my  inability to control certain technical aspects, like keeping my work perfectly flat.  Another agreed, adding that no matter what she did the darn thing was never square.  Back and forth we went, except for one member who was quiet.  That member, Colleen, is a critical care nurse practitioner with a lot of hospice experience.  At one point Colleen spoke up saying “I don’t care if my quilt is flat or if the edges are straight. None of that bothers me.  For me, quilt making is a joy.  It’s a complete and total  joy, and I treasure every minute I can devote to it.”   As she went on, I joked saying she should bottle that attitude so that I can take a big drink from it.   She smiled, but she was also absolutely serious, and her expression towards me had a hint of “you silly girl” with a huge heap of “one day you’ll get it,” and she said her words with the confidence and conviction of one who already got it.

I found her words bouncing around in my thoughts. What happened to my joy?  Why was I so quick to immediately know what frustrated me with quilt making (and really, give me a topic and I can tell you associated frustrations) rather than what was enjoyable about it?   Why can I so easily point out a perceived error rather than talk about what I do like?  I’ve been pondering it since.

Then, about 12 days ago I learned that the deadline for the Houston show is the 19th.  That realization put me into an explosion of focused drive to complete my entry.  From 8:30 a.m. I alternated two hours on design work for clients with one hour of quilting.  After dinner and a TV show (watched with dinner), I continued working on my quilt until the wee hours of the morning, 2-4 a.m., depending on how involved I was.

I kept seeing errors in my quilting.   I then began ripping out areas that I quilted because this wasn’t right or that wasn’t right or – oh my gosh – I did that section backwards!  I seemed to have spent more time taking out stitches than putting them in.   Day after day this went on.  Not much sleep, quilting, taking out quilting, working, and so on.  At one point I found Colleen’s words, more so that expression she had, creeping into my thoughts.

Could I simply calm down and remember how I love quilt making?  Remember the joy?  Enjoy the process?  Can I stop with the removing the quilting and just let it be?  Yes.  Yes, I could. I realized I could.  I decided that I would not rip out.  Instead I would just quilt.  I’d quilt and quilt and not worry if something was a bit off.  I’d continue on, letting nothing stop me.  I was so close to finishing.   As I hit the needle down position button to continue on, I simultaneously grabbed the bobbin thread.  That needle obeyed, went down, and went right through my finger nail and straight out the other side of my finger.

In a nano-second I suddenly realized that the needle had broken from the machine and was through my finger, and it stopped me in my track.   I stared at what looked like a magician’s trick, an illusion.  I thought I about photographing it (put an image in my journal, add some interest to this post, use it as proof that I wasn’t exaggerating – although  I’m sure I’d be accused of Photoshop trickery).

In  those seconds of contemplating the moment saved as a digital memory, I realized that I should pull the needle out.  I felt a bit of throbbing.  Throbbing?  Polite throbbing?  Why wasn’t there wasn’t out and out pain?  Not only the ouch pain, but oh-my-gosh grab the ice pain.  Or a quick blast of the torture kind of pain.  A hint of “if you don’t start talking, we’ll put needles through your fingers” kind of pain.  Instead, I felt kind of dumbfounded as I looked at that needle.  I then reached for tweezers to pull the thing out.  I grabbed the tweezers, which I happen to keep near my machine to grab the bobbin thread so I don’t sew through a finger, and pulled the thing out.  It snapped.  One piece came out.  I then grabbed the remaining piece which was still sticking out from the other side.  I had the two pieces.  And with what was left in the machine, I had it all.  But there was still the Monopoly thread going through my finger.  Now that felt strange when I pulled it out.

I  poured peroxide on my finger, put on some antiseptic gel, and wrapped my finger with some gauze.   And because I was determined to finish that quilt, I returned to it which, thank goodness, had no blood on it.  I thought of Colleen. Her expression. I suspect Colleen doesn’t have a needle through her finger story.  I’ll have to ask the next time I see her.  And, by the way, this isn’t the first time for me.  I did it once when I was 11.  It was more theatrical then.

I slipped on a glove and continued working, and I finally finished the thing.  I set up the camera, took pictures, completed the entry forms, completed my FedEx forms, and drove off to a nearby FedEx box to deposit my envelope.   The sun was shining, the air was still.  I came home, sat in the backyard for a bit, and relaxed.  I listened to the birds.  I rocked in my chair.  My dog was next to me.  Then I was hit with it.  The pride and the joy.  The pride because I did it.  I finished and got my entry off.  The joy because tomorrow I’m sleeping late!

May 21 update. I did get that late sleep in.  However, another teeny piece of needle came out late tonight .  It seems it was right under my nail.  It eventually worked it way through my nail which now has a bit of a crack through the length of it.  Oddly, and luckily, I still don’t feel it.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 17th, 2009 at 7:11 pm and is filed under Misc. Art/Quilt, Misc. Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.