The Devil's Puzzle by Clare O'Donohue Read Free Book Online Page B

broderie perse to represent the early years of our nation,” Maggie offered.
    That one I knew. Broderie perse quilts were made from cutting flowers and other images from a fabric and appliquéing them onto a different fabric. It was a way to use up the scraps of beautiful printed fabrics at a time when imported prints were expensive and hard to get. Now it’s a great shortcut to appliquéd quilts.
    “I’d like to do a Hawaiian quilt with pineapples and flowers. It could represent the late 1950s when Hawaii became a state,” Bernie jumped in.
    “Aren’t they complicated to make?” Natalie asked.
    “Simple, really,” Bernie assured her. “You just fold a piece of fabric into eighths, cut out an image, and unfold the fabric. Presto, you have a circle of repeating images, kind of like making a paper snowflake or string of paper dolls. It’s fun.”
    “We would need something contemporary,” Eleanor said. “I’d like to put my name on something modern, something that speaks to the future of quilting. It’s important people realize that this isn’t just a piece of history, but a part of our present lives and our futures.”
    “And not just bed quilts, but pieces of art,” Maggie agreed. “It’s a pity so many wonderful quilt artists are unknown to us because they didn’t think to sign and date their quilts. We’re left guessing who they could have been. I suppose they didn’t understand how valuable those quilts would be to future generations.”
    Bernie leaned forward. “I’ll tell you why they didn’t value it: because it was a woman’s art. If the majority of quilters were men, quilting would be taken more seriously as the art form it is, instead of treated as a quaint old custom.”
    “It’s not just that it’s mostly women,” Carrie argued. “It’s also that it’s utilitarian. It’s something you sleep under, so people forget it’s also art. That’s why it’s not as valued an art form as, say, a painting.”
    “A vase is utilitarian, but no one says ceramicists aren’t artists,” Bernie shot back.
    “Okay,” I stepped in. “Bernie, we’re not turning this quilt meeting into a protest march. We all agree that people don’t fully realize the work and talent of the millions of women through the centuries who have designed and made quilts, or for that matter of all the men who’ve also quilted. But we’re going to teach them. Our show will make it clear that quilters from the past influence current quilting, but there is also room for growth and change.” I was getting interested in organizing the show for the first time. “Anybody else want to volunteer to make something?”
    “I could do a whole cloth. That could represent the quilts brought over from Europe,” Natalie offered. “That way I wouldn’t have to piece or appliqué, and I could get started right away quilting on the longarm. I’m due July 26th, but just in case I’m early . . .” She patted her growing belly.
    “Great,” I said. “And I can do something from the thirties. I’ve always wanted to make a grandmother’s flower garden.”
    Natalie laughed. We all looked at her, puzzled. “Nell, considering the circumstances, it might not be the best choice,” she said.
    A grandmother’s flower garden uses only one shape—a hexagon—to create the impression of brightly colored flowers. It’s a beautiful quilt pattern and one I’d been dying to try, but Natalie was right. I’d have to think of something else.
    “It’s a shame that a skeleton is dictating our quilt patterns,” Bernie said. “But it is fascinating how things work. Some gambler comes to town and then, twenty, thirty, even forty years later, he eliminates a perfectly beautiful quilt from our show. It’s that butterfly effect the scientists talk about. One small action has repercussions you would never expect.”
    Maggie pointed a finger at Bernie. “Don’t be too sure he was a gambler. I was thinking how they used to give poker chips