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| Tickled Pink, 64 x 42 inches, fabric |
At seven years old I knew when I grew up I wanted to be an
artist, a veterinarian, or a teacher.
Now I'm a fiber artist making quilts of animals and
teaching others to do what I do. That willful seven year-old still
lives in me. She's the one I rely on to make sure I'm following my dreams.
It wasn't a straight line. Sure, I went to art school,
but I studied illustration, not fiber, at the Maryland Institute College
of Art. For that part of my education, I attended the Meta Carlson Studio
of Fabric Creations (aka my mama's sewing room). Fabric had always been an
element of my world, like oxygen. I twisted college assignments in order
to complete them using fabric.
Another part of my early upbringing was selling hand-made items
in my parents' seasonal home business, "The Craft Cellar."
My mom made spice trivets and table runners and such. My dad was a woodworker.
I painted and stamped and stenciled their work as well as helping to create
other knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Producing work to sell is what I
was familiar with.
I spent the first half of my full-time art career making
art quilts to sell. In the beginning I was thrilled to have found an
outlet for my creativity. Eventually, I learned that when I paired
those two aspects — making and selling — neither was completely satisfying.
Making art to sell became repetitive. Instead of creating the quilts I was
really interested in, I was making quilts to sell.
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| Dixie Dingo Dreaming, 48 x 48 inches, fabric |
My art soon became less fulfilling because I was
creating versions of the same quilts over and over again.
Selling quilts also became less fulfilling.
That's weird, huh? As long as I was getting paid, what would it matter if the
sale was fulfilling. However, since I was putting my whole self into
whatever I made, especially the larger and more unique quilts, I grew attached
to them. They became family members. Their value to me couldn't be calculated in
dollars. When they sold, the money disappeared into my bank account and
was disbursed each month to pay bills. If it weren't for the fact that the
electricity was still on you wouldn't have even known I was making quilts.
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| Golden Temple of the Good Girls, 50 x 58 inches, fabric |
Then in 1994, I was asked to teach a class at Portsmouth Fabric
Company in Portsmouth, NH where I worked as manager. I taught students my
way of doing fabric collage at that time. I work differently now, though the
basics remain the same: cut fabric to shape, tack down with glue, repeat until
desired image is achieved.
Over the next couple years, I taught a few more classes
there and at other regional quilt shops and guilds.
Eventually my quilts were featured in national quilting magazines and
I received invitations to teach and lecture on a national and then
international basis. Two books, Free
Style Quilts: a No-Rules Approach in 2000 (out of print) and Serendipity Quilts: Cutting Loose Fabric Collage in 2010, helped to spread my name around.
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| Samuelsaurus Rex, 48 x 40 inches, fabric |
Teaching has grown to be a larger part of my career. I'm away
from my home and studio for weeks at a time. Ironically, and in contradiction
to Mr. Shaw's opinion, the blossoming of my teaching career has
coincided with the blossoming of my art.
Income from teaching allows me to create only the
quilts I want to without a thought as to whether they will sell. In fact,
I haven't tried to sell a quilt in years. Instead, the quilts I make
promote my teaching through blog and magazine features, art shows, lectures and
exhibitions.
Now, after years of holding onto my quilts, I have gathered
a body of work I will be premiering in a special exhibit at this year's International Quilt Festival in Houston. Entitled Specimens,
the show will feature eleven of my large animal quilts, including the (almost)
22-foot long "Crocodylus Smylus."
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| Crocodylus Smylus, 21 feet 6 inches x 70 inches, fabric |
But teaching is more than a means to an end. I wouldn't want
anyone to get the impression that teaching is a sort of bitter main
course I have to swallow in order to get to the dessert of studio
time. While I still sometimes dread the stress of travel — missed
connections, hit-or-miss food — I truly enjoy teaching.
I hope (and am told) that my art touches people in important
ways. I'm fairly certain that for many my pieces expand the definition of
quilts from craft into the realm of art. And as an unabashed animal lover,
the message of my art is clear. As one person said upon seeing my
quilt "Polka Dodo," "I've known about dodos, but I've never
really thought about them before." I hope many feel that way about
all of my "Specimens."
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| Polka Dodo, 40 x 44 inches, fabric |
Teaching takes my influence to a personal level. While
working in my studio, I listen to podcasts that talk about finding your purpose
and your mission in life. They ask, what can you do make a difference in
the world? The feedback I get from students is about how my
classes free them up artistically. They've been able to
take something that's been in their head and manifest it into
art. They are amazed and proud at what they accomplish. It changes them. I
think about that when I get tired of traveling and just want to be home with my
family and pets. When I'm in the middle of my classroom, experiencing my
students' energy and their insights, it keeps me going.
This is Week 31 of 52 Artists in 52 Weeks. Thank you for reading and sharing Susan's story today. To see more of Susan's work and connect with her, please visit the following links:
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