I’m getting there, piece by piece.

Two quotes from Sister Corita, a famous art teacher.  These are from the book Learning by Heart–Teachings to free the creative spirit, written by Corita Kent and Jan Steward:

When you are not separate from the creative process, time ceases to exist.  You might start to feel tired and suddenly realize that much time has passed.  It isn’t necessarily a happy time–and may be very difficult to start if it is a job or an obligation.  But if you start with all the concrete needs and proceed in a thorough way–the creative process will take over and you will forget whether it is work or play. (page 111)

I have an idea for making something or I have a commission to do something or I have a deadline. . . and I always have a kind of natural resistance to getting down to it.  Somehow I feel that this kind of natural resistance is quite healthy–because all the information, sources, and ideas need cooking before they can be served.  So I go on living and I go on doing what might seem to be very uncreative things like shopping or cooking or washing the dishes or answering the phone or writing letters–and sometimes the data comes out and asserts itself into my consciousness, and I live with it awhile.

Artists, poets–whatever you want to call those people whose job is ‘making’–take in the commonplace and are forever recognizing it as worthwhile. (page 99)

I’ve been stewing over a title for a while.  I think we quilters could use some help on naming our pieces, so I try to be thoughtful, and like Sister Corita, let things stew awhile before deciding.  The quilt title comes from that aphorism “What goes around, comes around,” and we all know what that means.  At the age I am, I see this now more than ever.  If I send out kindness, and good will I tend to get this returned to me from my husband, children, family and friends.  When I am critical, snarky, grumpy–you can bet this comes back too.  And as I sewed these circles and listened to the national debate on whether what was said in angry tones during the fall election had come back around to hurt Gabby Giffords in the Tucson shootings, that piece of information stewed awhile inside as well.

Our quilts are representative of where we are, both in our personal lives and our culture and our nation.  This quilt might be called something else in another place or another time.  I also wanted to play up the idea of circles, so I hyphenated the second word to suggest children’s play, perhaps of coming round to play with a friend, or twirling around on a sunny happy day.

All day long, when I show up for meals, or to change the laundry, my husband would ask what I was doing.

“Making crop circles,” I would say.

Crop circles–you know, when the-aliens-have-landed-and-want-to-eat-your-brain kind of crop circles.

I’m going downstairs to make dinner, and change the laundry and try to escape the aliens that are eating my brain.

Now having finished the billions of pieces in the center circles, I’m adding the outer edges.  And thinking that in spite of yards and yards and yards of fabric in my house, I still don’t have the exact right piece.  But I think it’s coming along.  I’m hoping to finish this inner section before school starts on Tuesday.  Think I’ll make it?

And maybe it should be considered that that my brain was pretty far gone before the aliens landed with their crop circles, because there are only NINE circles I had to make.  In spite of what I’ve written earlier.  Off to the laundry.