When Projects Rebel
Posted by JaneMiller on Monday, June 20th, 2011
Every quilter has had the experience of being in the anti-zone, working on a project where everything goes wrong, and that's exactly where I've been for the past month. I know you've been there too: every cut is wrong—too small, never too big—every seam has to be ripped, every appliqué has to be repositioned. Everything that could possibly go wrong does, and always in the way that's most difficult to fix. And having said that, I will admit that, of course, it is an exaggeration: only one thing was cut too small, only some seams had to be ripped and some of the many problems had easy fixes. But adding to my distress was the fact that the project in question was a commission, which meant that I couldn't just put it aside for a few weeks. Or months. (I like to think of this technique as the quilting equivalent of sending one's child to his or her room for a time-out: when it comes back out again, all parties are much better behaved.)
This is actually a project that I've been working on for years, though when I started in 2006 I had no idea that there would be further additions to the initial assignment. I was originally hired to make 7 Torah covers for a Miami synagogue. For those of you who don't know, a Torah is a Jewish holy book in the form of a scroll, hand-lettered on specially treated parchment, which usually takes more than a year to make. If the transcriber makes a mistake on any of the 300,000+ letters, he starts over. In short it is one of the more valuable possessions, both spiritually and financially, of any synagogue, hence the need for a cover when not in use. In addition, many synagogues own several Torahs and the covers are decorative as well as functional. Oh, and there are everyday Torah covers and another set for the High Holidays, so over the years I have fulfilled several contracts for Torah covers.
A Torah cover consists of an elliptical solid plate that rests on the top of the scroll, with 2 holes that fit over the top handles of it. The plate is covered with fabric and, in the type that I've made, the rest of the cover is attached to the top somewhat like a wraparound skirt. It was scary enough working on a religious item that I knew was going to be very important and visible to a large congregation. When I added the fact that I'm not Jewish, and therefore constantly worried about making a religious faux pas that would not only entail remaking a cover but also result in total humiliation, I was terrified. (Interestingly, every Jew to whom I confide this fear waves it off as if it were nothing. I assume they are correct, but it's not nothing to me!) So when I finished the first 7 covers, and everyone was thrilled, I felt, first, relieved because I thought I'd finished the project without screwing it up; and also honored to have been allowed to work on this task that I could see touched the hearts of so many people.
Fast forward to November, 2010, when I received a call from someone at the synagogue asking if I would make more Torah covers. By then there had been enough other Torah covers that I felt confident in my ability to design and construct them, though I was still terrified. As usual, I said yes anyway. This contract was for 3 covers, to be delivered by September, 2011. Because of my schedule, I wanted to finish by mid-June. This was all fine—I had plenty of time.
I start on the covers in early May and the first thing I discover is that the fabric I had planned to use won't work. It isn't substantial enough and it doesn't drape well; I return to my standby, Ultrasuede, which is elegant, but also both washable and dry cleanable. This means ordering from a store in Wisconsin (I am in Florida) and all that online ordering entails, especially the 3- to 5-day wait and the inability to judge colors accurately. The latter is particularly true of Ultrasuede, which has a nap; thus the on-screen color can change with the position of the swatch when photographed. It also means that I have to pay close attention to the direction of the nap, so that all 3 covers appear to be the same color, and to the sewing, as Ultrasuede is not as forgiving as woven cotton.
I won't bore you by enumerating every mistake that was made on this project—if I did, this column would be at least twice as long as it already is. I'll just skip straight to the highlight, which is sort of the point here. I finish the covers; you can see that I used calligraphy on them. I have checked the lettering many times. When I deliver the covers I ask that someone check them, since to me the Hebrew letters are just interesting shapes. (Since then I have wondered if I did that because I subconsciously knew that there was a mistake, but second-guessing the subconscious is like trying to catch a hurricane in your hand.) Suffice it to say that there is in fact an error. Two of the letters are transposed. So although this spelling error is not quite as awful as the religious one that haunted me, it is pretty bad. It is so bad that I don't even call the friend whom I always tell about my mistakes immediately because it makes her so happy. I am in no mood to make her happy. (For the record, she's not happy that I make the mistake; she's happy because she thinks I never err and is reassured when I do.)
I leave 2 of the covers there, because the deliverees are thrilled, and apparently nothing good can happen to them at my house. I take the other one home and manage to remove the 2 offending letters, which have been both fused and sewn. Unfortunately, the 2 letters haven't covered equal areas, so although the larger letter covers the evidence of the smaller, the smaller one doesn't cover a larger area of color residue, which has likely been drilled into the fabric with the needle, then heat set by the fusing. After several attempts at spot-cleaning, culminating in triple-strength oxy-clean carpet cleaner, I admit that the cover has won and that I will have to start over, which means ordering more Ultrasuede. In the spirit of trying to look on the bright side, I think about how lucky I am that the store has such great customer service.*
While I am waiting for the new Ultrasuede, I manage to remove the top and bottom bands and the main book motif to reuse. I recut all the letters, which reminds me how lucky I am that this happened on one of the 2 covers with fewer letters. I finish a quilt I am making for my son's graduation from the Fire Academy. I try to get into the mode of going with the flow and accepting what happens, always a problem for me. I get an email from someone who points out that one usually learns a lot from those projects that fight you. Who cares? The new Ultrasuede comes, I remake the cover and everything goes very smoothly. I am back in the zone; in fact, I even improve the design slightly. I deliver it to the temple and it's hard to tell who is happier.
A couple of weeks have passed now, and I realize that I did learn something. Or rather, I remembered a few things that I know from past experience, but tend to forget. I remembered that trying to hurry usually takes longer than taking your time. I remembered that no matter how good you are at what you do, you can still mess it up. And I remembered that one's worst fears can happen and one can still survive. In fact, I have to admit that the person who emailed me to remind me that I would learn from this, was in fact correct. But I'm thinking that I could have waited a little longer to remember all this stuff.
© 2011 Jane Hardy Miller
*(www.fieldsfabricsonline.com –they have quilting fabric too.)
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4. Jane Miller (27 June 2011 at 10:52 a.m.)
3. Angelica Teal (26 June 2011 at 7:04 p.m.)
2. Vita Marie (20 June 2011 at 2:58 p.m.)
1. Linda in TX (20 June 2011 at 8:56 a.m.)