Momentum Isn’t the Same as Speed

This summer, the 100 Quilt Project took up a lot of space in my daily life. I had long stretches of time in the studio, and I used them. I designed, cut, sewed, quilted, wrote patterns, made diagrams, and moved from one idea to the next with very little interruption. It was wonderfully productive.

And then my schedule changed. I knew it was coming, of course, but I still found myself wanting to hang onto that stretch of time when my days were more flexible, and I could follow an idea for as long as I wanted. Suddenly, the hours available for the 100 Quilt Project became much smaller, and I've been thinking about what that means for a creative project I've committed to for years.

I think I had started to equate momentum with speed. This summer there was a lot of speed. Quilts moved from an idea to fabric surprisingly quickly, and sometimes one design led almost immediately to another. Right now, the pace is different, but I'm realizing that doesn't necessarily mean I've lost momentum.

On really busy days, I don't force anything. I've learned that sitting down at the sewing machine because I think I should accomplish something isn't particularly useful. But when I have some room, I try to do something that moves the project forward. Sometimes that's substantial, like spending a weekend piecing a quilt or several hours working through a pattern. Other times, I press fabric so it's ready to cut, make a few diagrams, trim some units, or sew one chain of pieces together. None of those small things looks much like progress on a project whose goal is 100 quilts, but they add up.

I'm also learning to count the time when I'm not physically making anything. Designs have a habit of wandering around in my head while I'm doing something else. Construction problems get turned over, an idea that wasn't quite working changes slightly, or something starts to take shape without my deliberately sitting down to solve it. Giving those ideas somewhere to roam, without immediately requiring an answer from them, seems to be part of the process too.

Maybe stepping away from the studio isn't necessarily an interruption to the project. The amount of space I have for it is going to expand and contract. There will be stretches when I can disappear into the studio for days, and stretches when progress happens in much smaller pieces. I'm learning not to expect one to look like the other. I don't need to maintain the speed of an unusually productive summer to keep the project moving.

Eventually all those little pieces of work become quilts. And then, if everything goes according to plan, the quilts get dragged onto the couch, snuggled under, covered in dog hair, and thrown in the washing machine. Which is pretty much the point.