When my daughter moved into her own place, I gave her my old furniture. When I moved into my new place, I bought a small inexpensive sectional, I won’t spend too much on furniture that dogs vomit on. Because dogs do like to puke on the furniture sometimes. I like to be able to wash whatever is covering the cushions, for now I have two old throw quilts covering the seats, and the horrendous, ugly throw pillows that came with it have been sitting in my studio since I put in the couch. Each time I have moved in these last two years, I have weeded out some possessions that I just had been holding onto for no real reason. I had these pieces though that I kept during both moves, and when my mom came to visit this week, I showed them to her.
I had been experimenting with a quilting technique that to me seemed like painting with fabric. These two panels were my only attempts. I was looking at them after I had pulled them out of the dryer, and my then husband came in the room and looked at them too. He told me that they were not very good, he did not like the technique and I should not be making these any more. I thought they were awesome but was devastated by his critique.
I am always devastated by critique.
I folded them up and put them away. But I held on to them, I guess in some way I knew he was wrong.
I showed them to my mom, should I throw these out or? But she loved them, and today we spent the day making them into pillow covers for the two ugly cushions.
I absolutely love them. They are gorgeous. Tomorrow we are going to use an old piece of crazy quilt to do the seat cushions. I love this, this house, what I am doing here. It is like I am new and fresh and whole, where I was always before, but now I am just putting the last pieces of the puzzle together.
It feels good to heal old wounds.