When you’ve walked through a quilt show and admired the work of others, maybe you’ve had a variety of feelings, as I have.

  • You’re in awe. Thoroughly gobsmacked.
  • You’re inspired and can’t wait to get back to your machine.
  • You’re discouraged (because your own skills don’t come close).

I had an interesting conversation with another quilter about five years ago at the Georgia Quilt Show, as we both stood in front of America, Let It Shine by Sherry Reynolds, which had won Best of Show. (The quilt had also won at Pacific International Quilt Festival in 2011 and at Houston’s International Quilt Festival in 2012.)

America, Let It Shine by Sherry Reynolds

There in Atlanta, the other quilter remarked, “You know, this is amazing. Just stunning. But I’m really more interested in the ‘normal’ quilts. I like the ones that I could actually do.”

As we chatted about the Reynolds quilt, and quilt shows in general, and our own skills in particular, I realized that the “normal” quilts in any show may be the most important ones.

They’re the quilts that makers can see themselves creating. They make us sit up and take notice and think, “I’m going to try that.” What more can you ask of a quilt?

Eternal Beauty by Sherry Reynolds

If the name Sherry Reynolds sounds familiar, you may remember that she also won in Houston this year with Eternal Beauty. She earned the Handi Quilter Best of Show Award and $10,000 in prize money. Until you’ve seen this kind of work in person, you can hardly imagine the detail.

The sheer fortitude required to complete this is something I can’t comprehend. Eternal Beauty has also taken top honors at Indiana Heritage Quilt Show and at Pacific International Quilt Festival. (There may be others.)

I have never forgotten the conversation with the quilter in Atlanta. When I see a show, whether it’s a huge and widely-acclaimed event or a local gig with a handful of quilts, I remember that even the most humble of entries can inspire someone to begin. Even a quilt made from a kit or a project that’s been repeated by thousands of quilters who all bought the same pattern—each kind of quilt has its place.

Even the most awful workmanship could spur someone to say:

  • I think I could do better than that.
  • I would probably be neater.
  • I believe I’d have a better sense of color.

I was teaching at QuiltNebraska in 2012 when perhaps the highest (and lowest) moment of my quilting life occurred, simultaneously. All of the teachers had been asked to bring one quilt for an exhibit of teachers’ work, which is pretty standard. It gives everyone a chance to see work by all of the instructors at an event, even those whose classes or lectures they couldn’t attend.

I walked into a large banquet room where the teacher quilts were hung. There was All Drezzed Up, my silly, humble, run-of-the-mill experiment hanging next to Sharon Schamber’s jaw-dropping masterpiece, Crimson Promises. In case you’re not aware, Sharon Schamber makes prize-winning quilts right up there with Sherry Reynolds. She wins at big shows.

Crimson Promises by Sharon Schamber

When my quilt hung next to hers, I wasn’t sure what I felt. At first, I think “sheepish” might have described my frame of mind. Then I felt amused. I mean, seriously. My quilt was hanging next to Sharon Schamber’s!

All Drezzed Up by Diane Harris

In the course of the weekend, I felt embarrassed, proud, elated, humiliated, smug and more. It was weird. Later I wrote a blog post about it for Quiltmaker. Some images are missing, my byline is gone and the date is incorrect, but you’ll get the idea.

All of this is to say that I think every quilt has its place. The big winners by the big names and the small achievements by ordinary makers: as long as the quilts are satisfying the quilter’s need to make something beautiful and perhaps warm someone’s heart or soul or body in the process, it’s all good.

Quilt on.

~Diane Harris~


Friday, 11/30, Final Day!