This piece is now officially a quilt. It is not a finished quilt, of course, but it is a quilt nonetheless. It is populated with stitches binding the three layers together, and with every stitch, I am fighting against my own natural inclinations for perfection and uniformity. These stitches need to be rougher and rawer to balance out the sweetness and romance of beads and candles, and—quite honestly—to hide some of the many flaws in the pieced construction. This process is literally painful as nature never intended needles to puncture the paint-thickened fabric. It is also cumbersome as I repeatedly maneuver the unwieldy work. And, it is how I will pass each day in the studio for the next several days. Although I am stitching—needle, embroidery floss, fabric—this stitching is night-and-day different from the French knots I continue to compile at night. Those beloved French knots are simultaneously sweet and delicate and mindless. They can no more happen during the day than the real work of stitching this quilt can happen at night.

A detail of the quilting stitches.

A detail of the quilting stitches.

More quilting stitches.

More quilting stitches.

Still more quilting stitches (the roughest I've been able to generate!)

Still more quilting stitches (the roughest I’ve been able to generate!)

Day Fifty-Seven: Night and Day | 2014 | Uncategorized