... I'm just a guy who likes to make quilts ... and tell stories. Every day is an adventure as I try new things. Like the rest of life it seems, what can be done in quilt making is limited only by my imagination. What an incredibly exciting journey!
This blog continues on from my farm blog ... willowgardenshetlands.blogspot.ca ...
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QuiltCon 2020 - Acceptance! ... humbled
Congratulations! Your quilt The Power of One: Gender Fluidity (1328) has been selected for QuiltCon 2020
We have a responsibility to act on social injustices.
Trans folk are among the most 'at risk' individuals in our community.
Bill Stearman has discovered the power of quilting FIONA CAMPBELL QUINTE ARTS COUNCIL For our most recent Umbrella magazine, the Quinte Arts Council dedicated the winter issue to celebrating the Art of Craft and how the lines between the two often blur in innovative and exciting ways. We profiled 12 Quinte-based craftspeople who express their art through their craft; the ninth in this series is Bill Stearman in Picton. Bill Stearman struggled with storytelling as a way to make sense of his life for many years. And then he discovered his voice in quilt making. In March of 2014, he had a serious leg injury that left him in significant pain and medication that “killed his brain.” So he threw away the pain meds and sought another solution. “I have no idea where the notion came from, but I decided to try quilt making as a way to deal with the pain. I bought a $100 sewing machine, ordered some fabric online, found a few YouTube videos, and started to make a quilt,” says Stearman. “What I qui
This quilt is a response to a story that I used to keep secret … and a QR Code that will take you to the YouTube video by Choir! Choir! Choir! And Milck. This recording of the song, ‘Quiet’, gave me the courage to tell my story. The story below was shortlisted as one of five finalists in the Wind & Water Writing Contest (Fiction/Non-fiction). The Part Where I Tell a Story That Used to be a Secret The summer before I started Grade Six my mother finally agreed to let me take bagpipe lessons. I’d wanted to do that for a long time, but my father said that I’d just lose interest and it would be yet another thing that I started and didn’t stick with. I was sure that he was wrong. I loved the sound of bagpipes, and I had a fascination with men wearing kilts. I imagined that wearing a kilt felt much like it did to wear my sister’s skirts when we played dress up; all elegant and swishing around my legs as I walked. And, I could wear a kilt for real; not just for dress up. So, on Tuesday