quilters as expert as herself, and I tried to reassure her that, regardless of their skill level, every student would learn something because Susanne wasn’t teaching a pattern or a technique that someone might have picked up elsewhere. She was teaching a class on how to express oneself in fabric.
Journal quilts have become popular among quilters. Generally eight inches by ten inches or smaller, they serve as a way for quilters to document their experiences, much like a page in a diary. But journal quilts use visual images as well as words and reach beyond fabrics to include found objects, paint, paper, and lots of nontraditional methods. I’d never made a journal quilt and I couldn’t think of any experience important enough to document, but I was looking forward to the class anyway.
Though Susanne, like most of us, had started as a traditional quilter, she had moved toward making art quilts—a large and sometimes difficult-to-define category that my grandmother described as quilts made, not for use, but solely for visual effect. And Susanne’s quilts certainly had visual effect. She made landscapes, variations on traditional patterns, pictorial quilts of her grandson, and vibrant abstract quilts. Every quilt was free and open, and unconcerned with what quilters laughingly call “the quilt police”—the rules or rule enforcers that insist a quilt should have matching seams and perfect corners and the like. Every time I looked at a quilt of Susanne’s, I sensed the rebel in her that I rarely saw in real life.
I knew there was a lot I could learn from her. And that, as much as a friend’s desire to show support, was why I had offered my services.
“I’m Susanne Hendrick. And I’m very excited to be sharing the art of quilting with all of you.” Susanne smiled nervously at the start of class. “Journal quilts, like a written journal, are private expressions. You shouldn’t worry about what others will think, only what you wish to say. Use symbols, images, and objects that matter to you, even if they mean nothing to the rest of us. In my own quilts, I have found that I sometimes express quite private thoughts without meaning to, and I am always glad I did. I hope you’ll get caught up enough in your work that you’ll do the same. We will be making several small quilts this week. We’ll start with a quilt that expresses your view of what’s around you. To do this, you’ll go into the woods around the inn and look for inspiration. The second quilt will show something of your life now. And finally you’ll make a quilt that tells us a dream, a goal, or even a fantasy you have for your future.”
When she stopped talking, I waited for the class to show some excitement, but there was only silence. Susanne looked at me, concerned. I nodded to her to continue, looking as encouraging as I could.
“Each quilt will focus on a different technique,” she said, “but each will build on what we’ve learned. The point is to experiment and have fun. And by the end of the week, you will have not only a few quilts, but a whole new way of looking at quilting. Is everyone ready to get started?”
I looked out at the group of students that had been assembled. It wasn’t promising. Susanne seemed frozen by their lack of enthusiasm.
“Why don’t you introduce yourselves?” I suggested.
“I’m Helen,” a dark-haired woman of about fifty said. “I’ve tried my hand at quilting a few times but I don’t like to follow patterns.”
“You won’t have to follow them here,” Susanne said hopefully.
“Well, I like to buy crafts more than to make them, but I’ll try. George and Rita spoke very highly of you, and it would be nice to know if all those quilts I see at art fairs are really worth the price they charge for them.”
“And hopefully you’ll enjoy yourself,” Susanne said meekly. “And you are?” She turned to the attractive, middle-aged man sitting next to Helen.
“Frank Ackerman. Helen’s