How to start with improv composition for quilting
Starting a new piece, for me, is always exciting. I gather some fabrics and begin. I ponder what and how and where and why. But mostly I chose and just start. Of course, it’s not always as simple as that is it?
The creating of fabric or stitched pieces can be just joining fabric to fabric, or it can have a level of composition that comes from doing, learning, exploring, noticing.
I am often very instinctual with my compositional work, in my textiles. I am not trained in the technical aspect of artistic composition (not from art school at any rate). But I grew up in a very artistic and creative family. We talked about art, composition, colour, lines, ideas.
When we went to art exhibitions my father would lean into our ears and point out aspects about the work, show us the lines and where to take notice. Guide us thoughts we may not have considered - as young children, young girls, young teenagers.
He knows so much about a lot of things; would tell us about the particular artist, the era, the style and technique. What was going on politically and how that might have affected the works. The artists and creatives around that artist, and how that might have affected their work.
Now as a middle-age person woman, I wish I could remember all the words he said, have him lean down into my ear again and point out lines, aspects to appreciate or ponder on, or decide that I don’t like it. To encourage us to have my own opinions about things. He let us know when he didn’t like an artist even if they were super famous and should be loved world-over. This led me to respect and listen to myself… which takes ongoing practise for sure.
So with this informal training, I have - not so much a specific learned art-style - but more of an intuitive deep knowing inside myself. From a young age of looking through books, talking about and exploring ideas. This is what I use for my own work. And oftentimes it might wrong. Oftentimes people might tell me I’m wrong.
But, in the same way that my father didn’t like certain artists, there is always space for doing your own thing. And not having to wait for everyone to like, appreciate or enjoy your work. Or even indeed looking at it as art: which can be something that happens in a textile sense.
Which brings me to the way that I create my stitched textile works. The compositional rules I know - vaguely - and I also know I can break them. These rules, I truly believe, actually come not from books and lecturers but from people looking, noticing, thinking for themselves, and allowing their eyes to talk to their head and heart. When you stand back at look at something you know if it feels right or not.
We’ve mostly been told that we don’t know these things anymore. But I always remind myself that once upon a time - not very much long ago in truth - there were no books and no rules; but instead people doing what their bodies felt inclined to do. How their eyes started to see what worked, what seemed right and felt right. How to shift something to change a perspective. Drawing with burnt sticks from a fire, onto rock.
So, with this thought and knowing in my self; I know that the way to find my own inner composition is to stop looking around, stop giving my creative eye to others, and instead sit with my own work and see where it evolves. Being true and honest, allowing it to be wrong, and trying new things to make it feel ‘right’ in my eye.
This piece may become a cushion, for our bed (along with a new quilt I am still doing the white quilt-stitching on). It is not yet finished. And when I have done all the stitching, I will stand back. Close one eye, tilt my head to the side, look through a fuzzy gaze. Listen to my heart, my eye, my inner understanding.
Oftentimes what I do is close both eyes, have the piece at eye-height, then open both eyes and see where my gaze goes. Where it leads. What jumps out, in a good way. What jars my eyes, or stops the flow of eye-energy. I find this a great way to look at textile work, at photos, even at small drawings that I do. The closing of eyes then opening again makes me feel refreshed upon seeing the piece in a new light.
How do you look at your own works to explore the idea of “right” composition, or how things feel to you?
