I last blogged about this in May and June 2019, and its turn has finally come around. I gingerly took it down from the hanging rack and carefully opened it. Two shattered squares had already been replaced, probably back in Spring 1998, and another square removed as well as a shattered maple-leaf block.
The replacement maple-leaf block I had already created last June,
so that was simple enough to hand-sew into its spot. Wraith helped, of course. These vintage fabrics get lighter with time, so he made sure the top didn't float away on its own as I worked on it.
I debated about whether to use the polka-dot or the flour sack fabric to fill the solid square blank spot remaining, then decided on the flour sack because I was certain it was closer to the age of the original fabrics.
When that was done, I turned my attention to the one "false note" square I had noticed back in May:
All the other solid square blocks were small prints, plaids, or solid fabrics. There was no use of this bright, large-patterned fabric anywhere else on the top. It didn't look like a previous repair, but it certainly didn't look as though it belonged.
This "careful attention" to details such as straight lines and right angles is pretty indicative of every block in this quilt. I bought it online, virtually sight-unseen (except for a long-range photo, probably) and had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Some of what I was getting myself into was the quality of stitching in these blocks. This top may have been a collaboration between a child and mother, or between some kind of beginner and someone familiar with a sewing machine. Some leaf blocks are assembled as this one is, with loose running stitches, and others are assembled using a sewing machine. The blocks were sewn to each other on a machine, except for my replacements. Those I sewed in with a back-stitch.
Back to replacements...
Rather than get too fiddly with cutting, I simply cut a 7.25" x 7.5" piece from the flour sack. That way at least two of the edges would fit fine, and I could adjust as I sewed with the other two. That's pretty easy to do when hand-sewing.
My plan then (and still today) was to repair the top and get it hand quilted and bound. It was mainly for the experience of doing it, I think, and at the moment I'm too stubborn to quit the idea yet. What I know (now) is that I'll never do something like this again, and if (in the spirit of "Never say never") I do end up taking on a repair job, the original top had better be an incredible specimen of superb handiwork before I'll even consider it.
This quilt, when finished, will be far too fragile for actual use. It can be admired and will give a homey and comfortable look to our newly-repainted/reorganized Guest Room, on which one of those walls it'll hang.
Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. It applies to sticking peas up your nose just as well as purchasing rescue tops.
ReplyDeleteLOL! Personal experience? Does this quarantine have you THAT bored?!?
ReplyDeleteSee you 'round the nest,
C
Caroline's comment is worth remembering.
ReplyDeleteThe Loud brought up the Sunk Cost Fallacy the other night, and as soon as he described it I mentioned this top as a potential example of that very thing. We'll see how the hand-quilting experience goes. If I hate it to bits even before I complete the first row of Baptist Fans, I'll call it quits and recycle the muslin and batting in a future project. Promise!
ReplyDelete