Quilts, Tacos & Tattoos

The Chicks

Quilting is a hobby that requires creativity. A quilter can look at patterns or finished quilts and thinks, "I would do that with this color fabric, with a different border, with different colors, in a bigger size, in a smaller size," and on and on.

Every quilter is different. Some quilters like to match a pattern perfectly. While others take the pattern and alter it to match their color palette or style. Quilting is a unique craft rarely seen as a fine art. The amount of work and thought that goes into a quilt can require as much skill of the quilter as an oil portrait requires of a painter. Paintings and quilts can both be beautiful, but most people see quilting as a hobby instead of an art form, and that caused a major dilemma for me.

I walked around the show, appreciating the art I loved and wondering how I could combine college and my love for sewing.

There is no college degree in quilting, which left me wondering, What should I major in at school? Should I major in art to try to incorporate fabric and textiles into the art world? What do you do when all you want to do is quilt?

At the quilt show, I was also struck by the behavior of exhibitors and attendees alike. They reminded me of chickens. The exhibitors would get their feathers all puffed up trying to be the biggest and proudest chick in the coop. They also get frazzled trying to enforce their rules on the participants clucking around their booths. "No photos, please! No sketching, no touching the fabric!"

The quilt show attendees are also like chickens. The go up and down the aisle looking and pecking into the booths but not wanting to seem interested. They gab and gaggle. They act like the staff is behind Plexiglas and can't hear their comments, "I saw this at that booth," or, "I could do that at home without a pattern," or, "Can you believe their color choices?"

But the biggest display of hens hooting and hollering happened that afternoon when purses were stolen from our booth and four other booths. It was a pecking frenzy, with people squawking and clucking at each other for information.

And in the middle of the frenzy, Mom and Nana gathered all of the Dallas/Austin Area Quilt Owners together and went to the cafeteria for lunch. Sales in our booth seemed less important. Mom was digging for answers like, Was there a bigger ring of robbery going on? Were all four of the quilt shops a target for crime? Was it the same person?

"Have any of you had a man named Mitchell Goose come in your store?" she asked with tight lips. All of the women got silent.

"No," one of the women said. "The man who came in my store about Christmas time was named Earl."

"My guy was Al," another replied. "He said he was looking for a machine for his Aunt."

"Ask about the boots," I whispered in Mom's ear.

Mom raised her hand and all the women were silent. "Was he wearing boots?"

The chickens were active again. Mom yelled above their voices, "He's fooled us all. There is nothing more we can do here now. We all need to meet after the show. Come by our booth at 6:15 PM."