Several weekends ago, a friend and I went to the New England Quilt Museum to view an exhibit of quilts by Radka Donnell. Both of us were struck by the fact that Donnell, although considered a maker of “art quilts,” intends her pieces to be used as actual bed-covers rather than wall-hangings, her patchwork patterns of color and texture reflecting the shape of a mattress and the presence of pillows.
As soon as you allow an intricately wrought, wonderfully colorful patchwork quilt to be “used” as a bed-covering, you invite the possibility of dirt and damage. Beds are the site of love-making, bed-wetting, and other messy realities: people eat in bed, muddy dogs occasionally use beds as couches, and cat claws leave their inevitable mark. When you actually use a quilt, you also subsequently wash it, the structural integrity of both fabric and stitches being subjected to the strain of washer and dryer. A wall-hung quilt in a museum will be pampered, protected, and (if need be) carefully restored by professional preservationists whose expertise is the fending off of time. An everyday-use quilt, on the other hand, gets tossed in the wash by a harried mother after it’s served as the stuff of a living room pillow fort or gotten muddied during a backyard camping adventure. The life of an everyday-use quilt is much more difficult–much more dirty and prone to damage–than that of a prized museum piece.
But what is the true purpose of a carefully crafted quilt: are quilts designed to be Art or to be Active? Is a meticulously-pieced patchwork designed simply as decoration, or it is destined for the sheltering of dreams? Alice Walker asks these same questions in an oft-anthologized story, and its title, “Everyday Use,” suggests her own presumed preference. In the story, two sisters both want several heirloom quilts stitched by their grandmother: one wants to hang them as examples of traditional African American handicraft, and the other was promised the quilts as a wedding gift so she can use them in raising a family.
Walker’s story begs the same questions as does Donnell’s exhibit. Do heirloom quilts belong on a wall where they will be admired (and preserved) by strangers, or do they belong atop the bodies of precious, tucked-in children? Would the grandmother in Walker’s story be more proud to know that her work ended up in a museum, deemed as Art, or wrapped around the bodies of great-grandchildren, cherished as a hand-crafted expression of love?
I have two cameras: one I use at sporting events and other instances where I intend to take lots of pictures, and the other I carry everywhere in my purse. It is this latter, everyday-use camera that provides most of the pictures on my blog, for most of the pictures on my blog are unplanned: without intending to go out and Take Pictures, I’ll notice something at the supermarket, post office, or along a morning dog-walk that begs commemoration.
My everyday-use camera still works even though I’ve dropped it repeatedly: its telescoping lens-housing is dented, and its lens-cover no longer closes. Because I carry my everyday-use camera with me constantly, it gets damp when it rains, and its lens fogs when I bring it in from the cold. My everyday-use camera, in other words, looks like its been used, and the number of pictures I take (and share) with it bespeaks this use.
A camera kept in either purse or pocket will eventually get damaged: it’s a rough world out there. But as much as I love my new and fancy “special occasions” camera, it’s too big to take with me everywhere, and ultimately the most valuable camera isn’t the one that’s the most expensive or feature-laden: it’s the one you have with you when something photo-worthy happens.
What good is a camera that you keep safe at home where it won’t get damaged while the stuff of pictures transpires in the large and unruly outside world? What good is a quilt or camera–what good is life itself–if you keep it isolated and protected from the stuff of heartbreak and harm?
If you’d like to see a slew of baseball pictures taken with my “special occasions” camera, click here and here for two photo-sets from our Red Sox pilgrimage to Atlanta last month. Enjoy!
Hoarded Ordinaries 
Jul 8, 2009 at 5:22 pm
“Using what’s at hand, he finished up the yard. He could use it and know when to quit.”
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Jul 8, 2009 at 10:16 pm
I’m reminded of Chuang-tzu’s famous “to be or not to be” moment: to be the bejeweled tortoise shell on display, or to drag one’s tail happily in the mud?
But that thought doesn’t quite fit here. In the Chuang-tzu story, it’s made clear that Chuang-tzu prefers the tail-dragging life. I don’t know anything about the grandmother in “Everyday Use,” but why wouldn’t she be equally delighted by each granddaughter’s choice? Swaddling a child is a good thing, but so is making many people happy through art (or Art).
As Yoda might say: “Hard to judge, this is.”
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Jul 9, 2009 at 7:15 am
When people ask me “Let me see the quilts you’ve made”, I have to say I don’t have them anymore. I can show pictures of some of the quilts I made, but the quilts themselves were gifts that were used up. There are fond memories of all of them and these memories pop up at odd times. Last week being the 4th of July my youngest came asking for the flag fabric that made up the backing of his deceased uncle’s Desert Storm quilt. My son wanted a piece of it to make a headscarf to wear at camp since the theme was red white and blue day. A fitting tribute to his uncle on Independence Day and a reminder of all the special fabrics I chose when making the quilt while his uncle served in the war. It also reminded us of how proud he was to receive the quilt when he came home from the war. We of course were reminded also of how much we miss him as he died too young. I’m happy to have had my quilts loved to death, so that they exist only in memories and perhaps pieces in my scrap bag.
I’d love to know what your everyday camera is, as I am looking to buy a digital camera and my #1 son commented on how it really should be small enough to fit in my pocket, and the Canon G10 is definitely not small!
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Jul 9, 2009 at 10:27 am
Hear, Hear!
My little camera is covered with paint and tile adhesive because I always have it in my pocket while renovating our bungalow.
I collect butter dishes because I know I’ll use them everyday.
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Jul 10, 2009 at 5:22 pm
Karen: All we ever can use is what’s at hand, no? But we somehow think there’s something more.
Kevin: There’s more to Alice Walker’s story than I described here. The sister who wants the quilts for display isn’t a very likable figure: she’s estranged from her rural family, whom she considers uneducated. She’s taken an African name & become Muslim in order to “reclaim” her African heritage, but she’s lost touch with where she “really” comes from. The implication, I think, is that she sees heritage (like her grandmother’s quilts) as being something you “show off,” not something you actually live with. Her uneducated sister, on the other hand, lives a simple rural life and gets along well with her family. She recognizes the “use” of both quilts and kin.
Chris: I love this idea of quilts being “loved to death,” even though it must be sad to say “goodbye” to something you’ve worked so hard to create. But then again, maybe that’s the great lesson of “everyday use,” and the great lesson of your son’s uncle’s (your brothers?) untimely death. Impermanence always gets the last word, so in the meantime, we “use” our quilts, our talents, our “scraps” for all they’re worth. I don’t know what else any of us can do.
A, I can imagine your paint-and-adhesive decorated camera has commemorated many memorable moments as your home goes from “before” to “after.” What precious memories you’ll have, along with a fixed-up house.
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Jul 11, 2009 at 11:13 am
Oh, I agree, and you make great use of both your cameras.
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