When one creative door closes
Sandy Schultz's machine quilting photo (cropped and resized) from flickr.com used under creative commons.
A quilters journey through creative block
It started with a sensor failure in my Bernina Q24 long arm quilting machine. The last few swirls on my sister's birthday quilt went wonky, with looping threads and erratic tension – a fitting metaphor for what was about to happen to my creative practice. What I didn't expect was how this single technical failure would ripple through my entire relationship with sewing, even the parts that had nothing to do with that particular machine.
Here's the curious thing: my long arm quilting machine is just one tool (and the least used) in my quilting arsenal. It's the final step in a long journey that begins with selecting fabrics, cutting pieces, and piecing them together into intricate patterns. All of these preliminary steps happen on a domestic machine and with other different tools.
Yet when the long arm broke, everything stopped.
The fabric stayed folded, the rotary cutter gathered dust, and my regular sewing machine sat silent.
Why would a broken quilting machine stop me from working on any or even starting new projects?
The answer lies in how our creative minds process obstacles (small pebbles?) and how we internalise our creative journey. When we're making something, we're not just thinking about the current step – we're holding the entire process in our minds, from start to finish. The final stages of quilting and binding, even though they might be months away from the process of patchwork, is part of the mental map we create when we begin a new project.
When that final step becomes uncertain or problematic, it can cast a shadow over the entire process. It's like planning a road trip when you know the bridge to your destination is out – even though you could still enjoy the journey, the uncertainty of the endpoint can make it hard to even start packing.
There's also something deeper at play here. I realised that I had never fully developed confidence with the long arm quilter. Unlike my regular sewing machine, which feels like an extension of my hands after years of use, the long arm remained somewhat mysterious, never quite making it into my "muscle memory." When it failed, it confirmed a hidden fear: that I wasn't really in control of this crucial final step.
This experience highlights something important about creative practice: our confidence in one area can be surprisingly interconnected with our confidence in others. A setback in one aspect can trigger a kind of creative domino effect, especially if that aspect was already a source of uncertainty.
So what's the solution?
Break the process into truly independent modules. Remind yourself that creating a quilt top is its own complete creative act, regardless of how it eventually gets quilted.
Use setbacks as learning opportunities. My six-month delay in getting help was a form of avoidance. I was worried about how and who to ask for help, and also the cost off repair. Next time, I'll reach out sooner and get the facts, turning technical problems into chances to learn more about my machine.
Practice the challenging parts more frequently. Even simple practice pieces on the long arm would help build that missing muscle memory and confidence.
Keep a "creative continuity" project going – something small and simple that can be completed without the problematic tool or process. This helps maintain creative momentum even when bigger projects are stalled.
Connect with other quilters. Sometimes being reminded you're not alone in these experiences can help break through the creative barrier. I joined a local quilt group.
The experience taught me something valuable about creativity: it's not just about the technical ability to do something, but about our confidence in the complete journey. Sometimes, fixing a creative block isn't just about repairing the broken tool — it's about repairing our relationship with the creative process itself.
Now, when I think about my sister's birthday quilt with its slightly wonky final swirls, I see something different. Those imperfect stitches tell a story about learning, about overcoming creative blocks, and about the importance of keeping our creative doors open, even when one of them temporarily jams.
What creative blocks have you encountered in your making journey?
