I made my fabric design debut in 2016, but 2017 was the year things really started to kick in and feel real. Lots of changes, lots of projects (sewing and non-sewing), and never enough time/energy to do it all!

I keep a running list of all quilts I make (excluding mini quilts). I only count them when they are 100% complete, as in bound, and snuggle ready. Quilt tops don't count. I made 16 quilts during 2014, my first year as a quilter. 2015 saw 19 quilts, and in 2016 I made a crazy 25. In 2017, I only made 18. Just kidding, that's still a lot! 

Here's the list with Instagram, Craftsy, and/or blog links when available:

1. Caturday Medallion (January) **Pattern Available Here**
2. Fishbones (Jan/Feb) **Pattern Available Here**
3. Kira Kira (Jan/Feb) (Love Patchwork & Quilting issue 52)
4. Pretty Paws (Jan/Feb) **Pattern Available Here**
5. Caturday Kittens Quilt (go to page 11) (Jan/Feb)
6. Mandala (Feb)
7. Modern Triangles Upstart (April)
8. Luna Nova (June)
9. Orbital (July) **Pattern Available Here**
10. Granny Cat (August) (Quilty Box exclusive pattern)
11. Diamond Back (Coming to Love Patchwork & Quilting in 2018) (August)
12. Dizzy Dots (August) **Pattern Available Here**
13. Whitecaps (October) **Pattern Available Here**
14. Spooky Lanterns (October) **Pattern Available Here**
15. Basketweaver (November) **Pattern Available Here**
16. Maelstrom (November) (still need to photograph that one)
17. Secret Kira Kira for another Windham desinger (November)
18. Flowerbox (December) (Free pattern coming to Windham in 2018)

All but three quilts (#6, #7, and #8) were my own pattern designs as well. 

I also had a several publications in Love Patchwork & Quilting magazine, including 2 full covers and 1 smaller cover image.

Issue 46 - Color Me Happy quilt

Issue 47 - Pastel Pop (AKA, Mermaid Shells) quilt

Issue 49 - Rainbow Brights Banner

Issue 51 - Blueberry Ripple quilt

Issue 52 - Kira Kira quilt

Issue 54 - Shoal Goals Pouches

Issue 55 - Designer Profile

My second fabric collection, Caturday, showed at spring Quilt Market in St. Louis and hit stores in October.

Non-quilt things: I released a total of 16 enamel pins! Pins have been a big source of joy to me this past year, as I love supporting and collecting the work of other independent artists. They've also proved to be a fruitful part of my business. 

In addition to pins, I also stocked up my reopened Etsy shop with original stickers and art prints.

I did nearly a full year's worth of visual journal entries in an effort to force myself to draw every single day.

And certainly not least, we moved from Houston to Bryan, Tx. in September! After 3 years of living with my parents, Seth and I were deliriously happy to find our own place. 

All in all, wrapping up 2017 was probably the first time I've been able to look back at the year and see that I can do this. I can support myself by doing the things I love. I hope 2018 brings more of the same!

New Blog Name and Domain!

Hi guys! I was at Quilt Market this past weekend, and during a conversation I had with Angela Pingel and Allison Harris, AKA Cluck Cluck Sew, I got some confirmation on an issue I've been struggling with. We were talking about how we came up with our Instagram/blog/pattern company names, and Allison mentioned how important it is for those names to be consistent.

When I started this blog and my Instagram, I was just making things up as I went. I had no clue what my future would hold. My Instagram was IAmLunaSol and my blog became Sew Scatterbrained. As my following as grown, I've started to worry more and more about the conflicting names. I tried to reconcile it as Sew Scatterbrained being the name for sewing-specific endeavors, but now it's at the point where I felt I had to choose. And the choice was simple.

I think my Instagram name is more connected to who I am overall. I've been using the nickname Luna Sol since 2012, before I even got into quilting. Sew Scatterbrained was a name I came up with on a lunch break at my first job. To top it off, I love the logo for I Am Luna Sol 10x more than the old Sew Scatterbrained logo.

So there we have it. I'm unifying the branding. I've redirected the site to the new domain, so everything should be operating as normal, but if there are any hiccups, let me know. I've changed my name on Craftsy as well, but it would appear that change may take some time to update on their end. The only "loss" here is my old hashtag #SewScatterbrained. I think I'll use the hashtag #IAmLunaSol or #IAmLunaSolPattern from now on.

If this has caused any confusion for anyone, I sincerely apologize. There's never going to be a great time to do this, so might as well rip the bandaid off now. 

Well...now to go update all my PDF patterns. That should be fun!

Why I Don't Like Hearing "You Should Start an Etsy Shop"

Every so often, I end up in a frustrating mental merry-go-round ride over a single sentence. It will start when I hear the third or fourth person express the same sentiment. I start seeing the sentence as a societal script that comes out almost like a verbal tic. I dissect it and analyze it in my head at length. I start parsing the literal words from the intended meaning. “Overthinking” is an understatement; I’m aware that the level I read into these statements would seem crazy to most people, but I can't help it.

All that to introduce the particular sentence that has been driving me up the walls: “You should start an Etsy shop!”

I know, I know. Of all the statements that have potential to offend and disgust, I picked the well-intentioned compliment people pay to those who make things. Even tumblr activists would have to huddle for a few minutes to find the ills of this comment. And yet, it makes my jaw clench as I force a smile and silently calculate if it's worth my breath to explain why I'm not going to do that.

This cues my disclaimers. I'm aware that this sentence is meant as a compliment. I'm aware that people who say it may not be aware of the maker’s specific industry or craft. I'm aware there is no intended malice in these words. I'm aware that the underlying message being conveyed is, “I think your creation is lovely and has value that others will easily recognize.” I get it. My goal is not to take a steaming dump on this verbal token of appreciation. I simply want to explain why I, and I alone, twitch when I hear or read this sentence.

For the record, I have had an Etsy shop since July 2011, but it's been effectively closed since January 2013. I stopped generating inventory because working as a one-woman sweatshop, cranking out the same products repeatedly, didn't feel creative for me.

For starters, this statement makes simplistic assumptions about the maker and their industry, the first being that the primary goal of the maker should be to profit financially. Guess what? Not everyone who makes things wants it to be their job! A lot of creatives pursue their craft as a hobby, purely for their own enjoyment. Additionally, some makers can't bear to part with their creations. When you labor so long on an object, it can be impossible to consider selling it. When I painstakingly make a quilt for myself with my favorite fabrics, it can be irksome for people to tell me I should sell it instead. Am I not a worthy owner of my own creation?

But what about professional makers? What's wrong with telling them to open an Etsy shop if their goal is to earn a living? The short answer: it's condescending. Paying the “Etsy compliment” to makers with professional aspirations has only two possible implications.

The first possible implication is that you're stating the obvious. The compliment assumes that business plan is to make a thing, sell that thing, rinse, and repeat. If that is the case, it seems pretty patronizing to tell the maker to do the obvious. People don't tell doctors, "You should practice medicine!" If you're in a STEM field, I'd wager there aren't a ton of people outside of your industry trying to give you career advice. But if you are a student of the humanities, the visual, or performing arts, you're obviously a dumb-dumb who needs someone with no working knowledge of your field to tell you how to earn a living. While creativity is easily praised, it's also easily dismissed as something innate to the maker. Yes, some people have natural talent, but that doesn't mean we makers pull this stuff out of our asses. We study, we practice, we research, we work hard, and we work many hours to get to the point when we can make badass things. Our creations don't happen by accident. Simply stated, we are not dummies. Realistically, I know that people who pay this compliment are not trying to call me stupid, but that's how it can feel when you hear it over and over.

The second possible implication of the Etsy compliment is that you're making incorrect assumptions about how the maker plans to monetize their creativity. Selling handmade items is not the only way for makers to generate revenue. There are tons of makers who earn a living through their work as designers, authors, educators, and bloggers, not as purveyors of handmade quilts or knitted scarves. It would be like telling a Julia Child to get a job as cook, when she's dreaming of writing cookbooks and hosting televised cooking shows that would teach consumers how cook for themselves. I'm no Julia Child, but when people keep telling me to start selling on Etsy, I wonder, "Is that all you think I'm capable of?"

So with all the ranting aired out, what would I prefer people to say instead? This is actually something I'm working on improving on a personal level: stop making assumptions and try asking questions. There are tons of things you ask that can spark meaningful conversations: Is this something you do for fun or would you like to pursue this as a profession? What would your ideal creative business look like? What is your favorite aspect of what you do? Who are your entrepreneurial inspirations?

So what do you guys think? Do you hear/read the Etsy compliment often? Does it bother you?

Is It Ethical to Reverse Engineer a Quilt Pattern?

When I was still a quilt newbie, I spent a lot of time staring at photos of quilts, trying to figure out how they were made. One day during my lunch break, I was studying a photo of a quilt block, mentally deconstructing it into smaller pieces. I pulled out a blank piece of paper, sketched out a diagram, and started scribbling quilt math. Within a few minutes, what started as curiosity had turned into a usable quilt pattern. As I set down my pencil, I had a sudden realization. If a pattern uses traditional construction techniques, there is virtually nothing a designer can do to keep people from reverse engineering it. It was a scary thought. Then I began to wonder, if there is no way to prevent reverse engineering, is wrong for us to do so?

When I say reverse engineering, I'm talking about the practice of drafting a pattern in order to duplicate a quilt for personal use without purchasing a pattern from the original designer. And when I say ethical, I am not talking about what is legal, so we're not even going to go there. The goal of this post is to start a dialogue on what seems like a common, but private practice, not point fingers.

I've have had several informal discussions with friends (some of whom are pattern designers) about reverse engineering patterns since I first started asking myself this question. In an effort to cast a wider net, I conducted a small survey through Survey Monkey.

Of the 25 respondents, 22 had reverse engineered a pattern, which wasn't a big surprise to me. I've heard people casually comment that they could "figure out" a pattern enough times to guess that the practice is widespread. The reasons people cited for reverse engineering patterns did surprise me though. I expected the #1 reason would be to save money, but more people seemed to approach it like I had, out of sheer desire to solve a puzzle.

In response to the question, "If I wanted to make a quilt pattern that is readily available for purchase, but think I could reverse-engineer it, I would...", only 3 respondents (12%) said they would only purchase the pattern if they were unable to reverse engineer it. However, that's not to say that money doesn't play a part. The results clearly indicated that customers are happy to buy patterns...if they believe the design merits the price. The survey echoed the dozens of comments I've heard and read that many people feel little guilt over reverse engineering simplistic designs like HST quilts or quilts based on traditional blocks.

The overall impression I get from the survey is that quilters value originality and want to support designers who bring something new to the table.

I emailed Cheryl Arkinson for some input in this post after reading an interview in which she stated that she reverse engineered patterns as a quilt newbie, but later realized that designers deserve to be compensated for their creativity. I asked her what prompted her change of heart. Her response:

"One day in a local quilt shop the owner was telling me about the designer whose pattern I had in my hand. In some ways it was a sob story, but not really. This particular designer - whose name I couldn't remember if I tried - got out of an abusive relationship and raised her kids on her own. She made a living from pattern design! It made me see that there are people and a lot of work behind that $8 piece of paper and plastic in my hand."

Cheryl firmly believes that reverse engineering patterns without financially supporting the designer is unethical, and I'm inclined to agree with her. I don't think anyone is going to stop reverse engineering because of this post, but I hope readers will take a moment to consider its implications. We want our favorite pattern designers to keep creating new projects to inspire us and without financial compensation for their work, some may throw in the towel. You can still play your puzzle games, but show your appreciation and buy the pattern too. To quote Beyonce, "If you liked it, then you should've put a ring on it."

What do you think?

2015 Recap and 2016 Goals

2015 has been an undeniably game-changing year for me. I was mentally listing out the main developments of the past 12 months and thought, "I can't believe this is my life."

I only made three resolutions for this year, and I think I made good movement on all fronts. I increased my FPP skill level through sheer determination with projects like the Epic Game of Thrones quilt and the Forest Abstraction blocks for Fall Quilt Market.

I spent a lot less time ripping out quilting by spending more time considering design options. Most recently, I've taken to printing out line drawings of my quilts and sketching my plan.

Lastly, I put myself out there socially and professionally at Quilt Con, my first spring Quilt Market (which was also my first 100% solo travel adventure), and second fall Market. I was a guest on the Modern Sewciety Podcast. I spent the year as a board member for the Houston Modern Quilt Guild as historian and industry liaison. And biggest of all, I've joined the Windham family as a licensed designer. 

For 2016, I want to keep the momentum going, and I've come up with a few goals for the year. 

1. Pursue teaching opportunities. I'm already slated to teach a workshop on my Shieldmaiden pattern for the HMQG in January, and I'd like to track down more IRL teaching gigs. My pal Becca Bryan will be teaching a few workshops at Quilt Con this year and after chatting with her about it, I started thinking about applying for 2017 Quilt Con as an instructor. We'll see!

2. Have a memorable Quilt Market debut in Salt Lake City. I've been dreaming about being a designer and having a booth at market since I first attended in Fall 2014. It's coming true and I've been busy planning all the details that will go into the debut of my first collection, Luna Sol. Unsurprisingly, I'm overflowing with anxiety, but it has a markedly positive tone to it. I hope to channel all that into making lots of exciting projects to share.

3. Be a more ambitious quilter. The actual quilting process may be my least favorite part of making a quilt, which is why I'm prone to defaulting to simple all-over meandering designs. As I wrote earlier, I've gotten better at planning before jumping in. However, I want to take things a step forward and do more custom quilting when the quilt can really benefit from it.

4. Spend more time working on new quilt patterns. I frequently try to sit down and diligently design quilts, but I have a hard time producing things I'm willing to move forward with. A lot of the times, I'm paranoid that something similar exists somewhere out there in the quilt world. Maybe by taking on more frequent, short sketching sessions, I can start to get somewhere.

Why I don't identify as an "artist"

Recently I've taken to listening to the Crafty Planner podcast by Sandy Hazlewood during my sewing sessions. As I've been devouring both new and past episodes, I've noticed a theme during Sandy's interviews with various sew-lebrites: the idea of being an "artist."

In episode 35 with Mandy Lein, Mandy tenuously calls herself an artist, as if she is unsure if she's earned the title. While I have nothing but respect for Mandy and I would never challenge the way someone chooses to identify themselves, I was struck by my aversion to identify myself as an artist.

This isn't a new revelation for me. I've never felt quite right calling myself an artist. Even as an art major in college, I felt that the title was still missing the mark. Hearing people talk about being artists within the quilting industry stirred up my bottled up university art department experiences. I think that some people call themselves "artists" in order to elevate their work. A person who makes quilts might introduce themselves as an artist rather than a quilter because they feel that the former title has more distinction. The problem I have with this rationale is that it implies that being a quilter is not good enough. 

It's no secret that pursuits like quilting, knitting, scrap booking, etc. are deemed "crafts" or "hobbies," while the mediums that have historically been dominated by men (painting, photography, sculpture, etc.) are the ones we call "art." On the Crafty Planner podcast, Lizzy House (episode 35) even comments that when a woman makes a quilt, it's a quilt. When a man makes a quilt, it's art.

This is where my college art major angst kicks in. Most of my professors and peers were firmly in the fine art scene, with many being conceptual artists. As a representational artist, I frequently found myself at odds with others. I was unintentionally trained to bullshit a conceptual thesis to bolster my illustrations, for without one my work was deemed to be shallow, empty, or vapid. In their minds, a piece is good when it sparks a 30 minute discussion or debate. To me, art should leave you speechless. I feel that when ideas are more important than aesthetics, it should be called "visual philosophy" or something like that because the medium is nothing but an incidental vehicle to express the thought. One of my professors began referring to my work as "illustration," (a term I have zero issue with) like it was a dirty word. In college, some dismissed my work as illustration, and now some dismiss my quilts as "craft."

During my senior year of college, I vowed not to let illustration be a dirty word. I began introducing myself as an illustrator. These days, I wear a lot of hats. Quilter, pattern designer, fabric designer, blogger, etc. At the core of it all, I am a maker. There is no definitive answer for what makes something craft or art, but either way, they both involve the act of making. Making things is what brings me joy, and the word "artist" always makes me think of judgement and elitism. I am not an artist.

Do What Works For You

Prior to attending Quilt Con 2015, I watched the lectures from 2013 on Craftsy to get a feel for the event. Angela Walter's lecture on modern machine quilting stands out in my memory months later, not because of her awesome quilts (which are breathtaking), but due a simple phrase that changed my perspective on so many things. "Do what works for you."

During the Q&A session at the end of her lecture, she repeats the phrase to the point that it because a bit of a joke, eliciting laughter from the crowd. She does answer questions about her thread and batting choices, techniques, etc. based on her personal preference and experience, but she concludes with, "Do what works for you."

I have a bit of a learned type A personality. I think being raised my former-accountant-turned-stay-at-home dad explains that. For the longest time, I was trained to see things as correct or incorrect. At the very least, there would always be a "best" answer that was twice as good as the next option. When I started quilting, I spent countless hours pouring over books, blogs, magazines, and video tutorials trying to find the "correct" answer to every question. Which batting is best? Do you have to match the thread and batting type? What kind of needle should I use for quilt piecing vs quilting?

The more people I talked to, the more I realized that everyone's opinions on these matters differed. Some are like my dad and insist there is one correct (or best) way to do things and any other approach is bad juju. For example, I frequently use flat sheets from Target as inexpensive backings. They only cost $10-15, require no piecing, and are snuggly soft. When I mentioned this to one particular quilter, she replied in a steely voice, "You should be shot." Whoa, lady.

Sheets work fine for me!

I was curious if that woman knew something I didn't, so I did a little research on some quilting forum discussions on the topic. Some posters wrote that sheets should never be used for quilts because the thread count is too high and difficult for the needle to pierce. Meanwhile, there were lots of posts from quilters who reported using sheets without issue. I haven't experienced a single problem using sheets, so hey, it works for me. Haters gonna hate.

What are some "incorrect" quilting techniques and tips that work for you?

Never Say Never

When I started quilting 18 months ago, there were plenty of things I swore up and down that would never interest me. To be honest, I had even sworn I would never make a second quilt. Within two weeks, I had changed my mind. My mercurial personality has been a blessing when it comes to quilting, and it encourages me to try everything at least once. I've even become quite fond of a few things I promised I would never bother with.

Traditional Blocks

I admit it. I used to think "traditional" was a dirty, stinky word that evoked the smell of mothballs. I wanted every quilt to be revolutionary! Why go backwards? Ah, the ignorance of the newbie.

Lately, my Pinterest board has been dotted with traditional blocks, albeit with modern fabrics. Bear Paws, Pickle Dishes, kaleidoscopes, Dresdens, and even plain half-square triangles! Red Pepper Quilts is probably where this guilty pleasure began. There is nothing you can't make modern with bright, cheery prints. And there is something to be said for simplicity.

Handwork

I used to loathe handwork. I had spent my first 10 years sewing with nothing but a needle and thread, and handwork felt like baby stuff. But after a few EPP projects, I had an itch to do more. I've come to love needle turn applique. I've even sworn off machine binding (okay, maybe I shouldn't swear anything off). I don't relish the process of finding matching thread colors, but a simple hand sewing project is the closest I can get to relaxing before I get the nagging need to be productive.

Hand Quilting

My second quilt was hand quilted, but it had been a means to an end rather than something I set out to do. The queen size quilt was too much for me to handle on my machine, so my options were hand quilting or send it to a longarm quilter, which wasn't in my budget. It took 4 weeks of slow, steady stitching...far larger than I am patient for.

Since then, I hadn't hand quilted anything larger than a mini up until I was ready to quilt my Circle Lattice. Then I hand quilted BUB, which was a blast. I used to be feel the urge to finish a quilt ASAP, but I've learned to savor the time I spend with each project. Hand quilting lets all that time and love show.

Making Bags

This one is downright laughable. I can distinctly remember telling Patty that bags (and most 3D projects) seemed far too complicated for me to ever be interested in. When I changed my mind, I did ease myself into bag making rather than plunging. My first bag was uber simple: a scrappy QAYG foldover tote that was little more than a trapezoid with boxed corners. 

It didn't take long to get the swing of things. After working through a few patterns by Noodlehead and Sew Sweetness, I was able to grasp the basics of bag construction. I started studying store bought bags I owned and photos of bags I coveted. Being able to visually deconstruct a photo of a bag is so satisfying. It's the best kind of brain teaser. 

Are there any things you've said you would never try? Did you change your mind?

A Disappointing Copycat and a Plea for Change

DISCLAIMER: These are my thoughts and opinions only, and do not reflect those of anyone else.

In the past year, I've witnessed a few bouts of online drama regarding sewing patterns. A pattern is released and the whispers start. People remark that it looks awful similar to an existing pattern. Some accuse the designers of copying one another for personal profit, and then it gets messy.

I'm not going to rehash some of the more widely read blog posts on the matter, but among pattern designers, it is fairly common knowledge that designs themselves cannot be copyrighted. It's the written instructions that are protected. (While She Naps has a good post on this).

The issue hit pretty close to home for me this week while I browsed patterns on Checker. I stumbled upon a quilt pattern by Zen Chic called Octo, which I immediately recognized. Why did I recognize it? Because my dear friend, Patty Sloniger designed it, not Zen Chic (Brigitte Heitland).

Patty designed her paper pieced Fractal Block for a swap back in July 2014 back when we still worked in the same office. It was an immediate hit and she made the pattern available for sale on Craftsy for $2.50. Since then, it's sold well and they pop up in my Instagram feed often. So you can imagine my surprise upon seeing the block being sold under Zen Chic's branding.

My surprise turned into confusion when I viewed the back cover of the pattern. The description reads "The pattern is inspired by a block once seen from Patty Sloninger." For starters, Patty's name was misspelled, leading me to believe she did not approve the use of her pattern. Plus, the wording felt dismissive of her role in the quilt design. "a block once seen" seems to suggest a fleeting moment of inspiration (without further research) rather than a collaboration.

Zen Chic's Octo quilt pattern vs Patty's original Fractal Block

I immediately sent an email and text message to Patty alerting her to the issue. Her response confirmed my suspicions. Brigitte never contacted Patty asking for permission to use the block and was now selling Patty's original design without consent. 

I was so upset about what was unfolding. I love this industry and all the creativity it entails. I love the indie maker movement and how designers are able to make a name and business for themselves. And when I see people trying to make a buck off the hard work of these individuals without compensation, it puts me in a tizzy. To see it being done by another indie designer hurts even more. So much for solidarity.

I sent Brigitte a Facebook message voicing my disapproval:

"I saw your Octo Quilt pattern online and immediately recognized it as FPP pattern designed by my friend, Patty Sloniger. She designed this pattern and sells it as a PDF on Craftsy for $2.50. I noticed you "credited" her on the back of the pattern (although you misspelled her name). I brought this to her attention, and she told me she never gave permission for her pattern to be sold or reproduced by anyone else. I believe she will be sending you an email today.

I'm not sure why you decided to copy her pattern and sell it without permission, even with the intent to credit her. The fact is that she designed this pattern and actively sells it, and it would appear you are attempting to pass off her design as your own for profit. I find this really disappointing and I will be letting my friends know about this. I will no longer purchase your patterns or products and I will encourage my friends to do the same."

I received this response from Zen Chic:

"Hello Felice, thank you for the open words. You are right with what you think. I discussed that issue before with my marketing director of Moda. What she brought to my mind was: There is no copyright on inspiration. Who could blame anyone for stealing a windmill block, which is used so often in quilts? Who was the original creator of a double wedding ring block, which we all use? Chevron - popular, everyone uses it, who is the origin to pay credit for? The fractal block of Patty is significant and not often used, so I gave her credits for the one who came up with the idea.
However - I didn't steal her pattern, but rather developed my own. I just had a look on her block on the online picture, a picture available for anybody. Then I draw my block with EQ7 and figured out how to put it together. I don't have a pattern from Patty, nor have I figured out how she did it. And I have not at all copied any written content from her.

But - I don't sell a single block, I sell a quilt pattern: I sell the materials list for a complete quilt, and explain step by step how to put a quilt together, including how to make a quilt sandwich, a binding and so on - using a block inspired by Patty. Every clever person who can do a quilt by herself, can check out the credited source and buy the FPP from Patty for much less than my complete quilt pattern would cost.
Believe me, I considered it for a while how this could hurt Pattys income streams. And I decided it won't - the one who needs just the FPP pattern for a template can easily download the cheaper version of Patty and put her own quilt together. But the one who needs detailed materials lists, how much fabric to buy, border sizes, and so on, needs definitely a complete quilt pattern, which I created.
I really respect your loyalty for a friend and I would do the same for my friends. So I don't expect you to understand my point of view.
Kind regards, Brigitte"

There are many posts online about copyright law and quilts floating around the internet, but I'm not interested in talking about was is legal and illegal for a simple reason: I believe that what is legal is a poor barometer of what is ethical. It's also an argument about what should be rather than what is. A designer's work can be blatantly stolen and reproduced for a profit, but taking the issue through the legal system in the US is often far more costly than it is worth. For example, a designer that pursues a case of copyright infringement on a sewing pattern which normally earns them $5 profit. I'm not sure what the average distribution for indie designers is, but let's just say Indie Designer B copies Indie Designer A's design to a T (but rewrites the instructions), and sells 1000 copies, essentially cheating Designer A out of $5000 profit. Legal fees are quickly going to exceed $5000, so Designer A is unlikely to pursue the issue in court. We all know that Designer B is wrong and Designer A should receive restitution. But that's not what happens, and that's why I'm not going to bother with the legal implications in this post.

To me, the writing is on the wall. Brigitte was aware of Patty's design, copied it, and made a weak attempt to credit her, but not compensate her. She defends her position my saying she drafted the pattern herself after seeing photos of Patty's block. For me, this doesn't cut it. Redrafting a pattern instead of buying it does not make it yours.

Brigitte compares Patty's Fractal Block to basic traditional blocks which have long been part of creative commons. She seems to think the fact that Patty's block is a wholly original design merits only a misspelled credit. She claims to have "developed [her] own" block that was inspired by Patty's, but look at them side by side. If the Fractal Block was the inspiration, where Brigitte's original contribution? Sewing the blocks together? Hardly an original idea. Patty's pattern even has digital mock ups of her design in a one-block quilt on her Craftsy listing.

At first I was perplexed why Zen Chic essentially called herself out on the design ripoff by "crediting" Patty, but I now feel it was an attempt to ward off accusations. If she "credits" Patty on her pattern, people who recognize it as Patty's Fractal Block may assume she gave consent for Brigitte to reproduce it. Had there been no credit at all, she would find herself in a sticky spot with anyone who recognized the design. By adding a credit, she places herself in a convenient gray area.

I have no stake in this incident, and what I've written here entails my total involvement in it. However, I think the larger issue needs to be discussed, which is why I am writing this post.

Designers, manufacturers, and publishers, please stop basing your actions on what is legally acceptable and start doing what is ethically acceptable. Our legal system makes this kind of behavior possible, but it does not make it a good business decision. Brigitte may generate a decent revenue sale from sales of this pattern, but I will never buy her fabric or patterns again. I have lost any respect I had for her. I hope others will feel the same way after reading this post, because this message is best sent with our dollars or lack thereof.

Our designs are not yours to cherry pick for profit. Making something a few inches bigger or making a tiny tweak doesn't make your design original. I redrafted the Pack N Go tote for myself, but I never even considered selling the pattern. I never even considered posting it for free. Kimberly Walus designed the bag, and she deserves the financial benefit of her work. I have no right to gain profit from it or sell a knock-off of her bag, even with the revisions I made.

I made significant changes to Noodlehead's Super Tote when I made it into a convertible backpack. I wrote the post in such a way that readers will still need to purchase the Super Tote pattern. I could have sold my own "expansion pack" of sorts, but I felt it would be poor taste to sell a pattern that capitalizes on the hard work of another designer. I wanted to share the design with others, and the only obvious solution was to give away my contributions for free. It generated blog traffic and that seemed fair.

Brigitte's desire to provide more resources for quilters has merit, but I believe should have taken an approach similar to my Super Tote backpack. Offer yardage requirements for the finished quilt, direct readers to Patty's listing for the block construction, and provide instructions on how to turn the finished blocks into a quilt top. And do this for free. If the intent was to help quilters, that's the obvious road. But the real goal was to make a profit without an original idea, and that's just plain crappy.

Make your pattern products original or don't sell them at all. It's not complicated. It's just honest business.

If you would like to support Patty, you can purchase her original Fractal Block on her Craftsy page for $2.50.

Modern Quilting Modern Woman

Blogger and Sewvivor contestant TwoLittleAussieBirds is doing something really cool right now that I'm very excited about. It's a series called Modern Quilting, Modern Women:

This series on Modern Quilting, Modern Women celebrates what makes us who we are. How our craft defines us and gives us a creative outlet which pays respect to our mothers and their mothers before them. I see many different women coming together as a tribe of quilters. Woven together by their craft. Modern quilters are as diverse as modern women.

I'm normally not big on the whole meme/quiz blog post shtick, but these four simple questions are so 

insightful. They really got me thinking about things that I never considered before, which is surprising because I'm a very introspective person. With that said, here's my story!

My Wing It Quilt for Patty's Quilt Market booth

1. Tell us about how you started quilting and how you found modern quilting.

I've been sewing in some capacity since I was a kid, but I first started getting really into it when I was in college. After I graduated and moved back to Houston, I hadn't touched my machine in months. 

I got a job as an in-house graphic designer and one of my co-workers just happened to be Patty Sloniger, a licensed designer for Michael Miller Fabrics. The more we talked, the more I learned about the world of designer fabric. Up until then, I didn't even know this industry existed. My knowledge of fabric was limited to what I could buy at Jo-Ann's and a few Japanese prints I purchased on Etsy.

I was captivated by all the amazing designs and wanted to buy everything! I wasn't sure what I would do with all the fabric though. All I really had sewed was zippy pouches and fleece hats. I knew Patty made quilts, so I started asking her about it, slowly easing myself into the idea.

I asked my brother to buy me a rotary cutter, ruler, and cutting mat for Christmas in 2013. I spent the following days eagerly cutting squares. Then, I made my first quilt during a two-day holiday: January 1st & 2nd, 2014 using Amy Smart's tutorial series. It just took off after that and I haven't stopped.

2. What does it mean to you to be a modern quilter and a modern woman?

I think we modern quilters are a product of our era. We're living in a world where information can be shared and discovered via the internet both easily and rapidly. We're more global. As a result, we're more open and accepting of new and different ideas. 

My wall of minis

I think with traditional quilters, there are so many "rules" because that is what those quilters were taught. They learned one way and that was the right way. They couldn't Google "how to make a half-square triangle" and see all the different methods people use. 

Quilting isn't just being handed down through families anymore either. I would guess most older traditional quilters were taught by a family member. Now, we're looking to new sources of learning because so many of us come from non-quilting families. We're looking up tutorials online that were written by complete strangers from who knows where. 

The more concise answer would be that we are not learning from one direct source anymore. It's coming from hundreds, if not thousands of sources. Furthermore, we're not just learning one way to do something. I have probably read at least 20 different HST tutorials and I use lots of them to suit my mood. 

I was never taught the "rules" so I don't even see them. I do the research and cherry-pick the information I like, or just make it up. 

I think that is also indicative of what it means to be a modern woman. We're not interested in the straight, paved path for our life journey. We're kinda bush-whacking our way through the jungle any way we please. We do what works for us and ignore what doesn't.

3. Which quilt that you have made represents you and why?

That's an easy choice. It's not so much one quilt, but my series of Scatterbrain Quilts that represents me best.

Scatterbrain Quilt No. 4

I have ADHD. When I was diagnosed, I finally understood so many aspects of myself that I had wrestled with for years. I've always been artistic but I was constantly jumping from one pursuit the next (like photography, painting, writing, etc). That made me feel like a jack of all trades, master of none. It made me feel like I wasn't good enough at any one thing to be successful, and that gave way to feelings of hopelessness. 

When I started quilting, I was deeply afraid that it would be the same old story. But it wasn't. There are so many different things to do within the realm of quilting that I never get bored. However, I do find that I can't do one-block quilts or anything super repetitive.

I started making Scatterbrain Quilts because I was tired of trying to stick to one idea when I have hundreds of them swirling in my head like cows in a twister. I never before had an outlet where I was free to just unleash my internal chaos in a constructive way.

Scatterbrain Quilts are the perfect representation of what it's like for me living with ADHD. It can be chaotic, but it can also be beautiful.

4. How do you connect with other modern quilters?

Joining the Houston Modern Quilt Guild was of the best things I could have done to connect with other like-minded quilters. I'm a complete internet dork, but even I, Ms. Hermit Crab herself, understand the value of getting together with "my people" in person. There is just no substitute. 

With that being said, I'm hooked on Instagram. I've "met" people on IG that I then got to meet at Quilt Market, which was a blast. I probably would have missed out if I hadn't been a virtual friend/follower first. 

I read lots of blogs (thank God for Bloglovin' to keep them all organized) and listen to the Modern Sewciety podcast religiously. Stephanie has exposed me to so many amazing people in this industry that I would have never known about otherwise. 

Patty, Kim Kight, Tammy, and myself at the Cotton + Steel booth at Market

Well, that's that! If these questions got you thinking, be sure to check out the link up over at TwoLittleAussieBirds!

Finding Inspiration: A Lesson from Kiki's Delivery Service

Whenever I read or listen to interviews with artists and other creatives, I’m always prepared to for the inevitable question about their inspiration. Sometimes people ask what inspired a certain painting or their latest fabric collection. Sometimes that ask about inspiration in a broader sense. I hear and read these questions and answers on such a regular basis, but only recently did I ask myself that question. What inspires me?

I think inspiration can be a tough thing to explain because it means different things to different people. When I talk about inspiration, I always name external things, like people, movies, and songs. But what all those things have in common is that they have helped me come to understand myself.

One of my earliest and strongest inspirations came from an animated movie I saw as a kid: Kiki’s Delivery Service, written and directed by the great Hayao Miyazaki. Most people I’ve told this to laughed. Some people can’t look past their assumption that animation is nothing more than shallow entertainment meant for children. Even as a child, I knew this movie was so much more than that.

If you haven’t seen it (spoilers?), the movie follows Kiki, a thirteen year-old witch, as she leaves home to begin her witch training. This entails living on her own for a year and developing a skill that will be her livelihood. Her mother is a healer, and she briefly encounters another young witch who tells fortunes, but Kiki has no idea what her skill may be. The only form of magic she knows is how to fly her broom. She settles in a coastal town where she befriends the owner of a bakery. The two strike up a partnership with Kiki operating a flying delivery service out of the bakery. After a few months of working, the unimaginable happens: Kiki suddenly finds her magical powers have disappeared. 

In an effort to help her take her mind off things, Kiki’s artist friend Ursula invites her to spend some time away from town in her cabin. The two come to find that they have both had similar struggles. “Without even thinking about it, I used to be able to fly,” Kiki says, “Now I'm trying to look inside myself and find out how I did it.” Ursula, who is a bit older than Kiki, recalls when she was a young teen that all she ever wanted to do was paint. Then one day, she felt like she couldn’t paint anymore. Nothing looked any good to her. Finally she realized that didn’t understand what or why she wanted to paint. “I needed to discover my own style.” She adds, “We need to find our own inspiration. Sometimes, it’s not easy.”

The scene between Ursula and Kiki is the one that always sticks with me. It’s like an internal conversation I could have had with myself. Ursula’s story is one I relate to on a literal level. Some days I can’t draw anything that feels worthwhile. Kiki’s story however, is the one I relate to on an emotional level. I see how hard she struggles, physically, mentally, and emotionally to fly once again, and I totally understand that feeling.

Kiki’s Delivery Service showed me that I’m not the only one who hits creative roadblocks. Creative people don’t always like to talk about it, but it’s super common! It’s hard. It’s depressing. It can feel like your abilities aren’t under your control like you thought they were. Feeling powerless is just a crappy state of mind. But it’s not forever.

Sometimes we need to take a break and think about why we do what we do, whether it’s drawing, sewing, writing, etc. Maybe we’ve lost sight of what motivates us. Maybe we’re just overthinking it. I think creative blocks are our bodies’ way of telling us to slow down.

Lately I've been trying to do so much in so little time. While stepping back and slowing my pace  on a project can feel like a stupid thing to do, I think it's important in order to keep everything in balance. 

What do you do when you feel like you've hit a wall?

MRW: Quilt Edition #1

I love MRW ("my reaction when...") gifs with a passion. I used to write a reaction gif tumblr, And I was Like Video Games, back when hubby and I played Final Fantasy XIV and Tera Online. Lately, I've been thinking of doing some sewing ones, because I'm a nerd who thinks in gifs. Expect more of these posts in the future!

When I'm making Quilt Con plans with friends:

When my friend shows me her amazing collection of Heather Ross fabrics:

 When I wear my new Washi Dress to a quilt guild meeting:

When I reach 700 followers on Instagram:

When I free-motion quilt:

When I walk into the quilt shop and they don't have anything new:

When someone beats me to an item on #thegreatfabricdestash:

When my family complains about my messy sewing room:

When I read a dress pattern for the first time:

My Sewing Bucket List

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my goals. I have a bad habit of daydreaming of all the things I want to accomplish while never setting a real plan on how to make those things happen. In an effort to keep my many goals organized, I've decided to write them down with a rough timeline. And in order to make sure I actually work towards these goals, I'm posting them here for accountability!

This Year

• Finish the Passacaglia quilt
• Get a pattern published in a magazine
• Finish Game of Thrones costumes for hubby and myself
• Make a charity quilt
• Host round 2 of the Kitty Mini Quilt Swap
• Attend Quilt Market

In the Next 5 Years

• Be a licensed fabric designer
• Have a booth at Quilt Market
• Teach a workshop
• Attend an out-of-state sewing retreat
• Make a king size quilt for my parents

In My Lifetime / Whenever

• Write a book
• Be interviewed on the Modern Sewciety podcast
• Meet Heather Ross, my fabric design idol
• Get a quilt in a quilt show
• Make a cathedral window quilt

Instagram Sewing Swaps: Are privacy and participation mutually exclusive?

When I signed up for my first sewing swap earlier this summer, I had no idea how quickly I would get hooked on swaps.While I've had to be careful and not over-commit myself with sign-ups, I indulge my swap love daily by following their hashtags on Instagram. (Shout to to all my #KittyMiniQuiltSwap participants!) It's always inspiring to see all the hard work and creativity everyone puts into their projects. It can only be topped by the lovely pictures people post of their happy packages and their sweet thank yous. I love how positive our Instagram sewing community is, right down to the generosity and graciousness of swappers.

But, like anything else, there are some elements of swaps that spark disagreements, like privacy vs. participation. I've seen the question discussed many times: should you sign up for a IG-based swap if you have a private account?

I have read through many lengthy comment threads on IG of participants lamenting their ghosty partners and it seems to be a polarizing argument. Private swappers appreciate their privacy and don't want to give it up for a swap, simple enough.

But why would private accounts be a bad thing for swaps?

For starters, if you are participating in a secret swap, you won't be able to view your partner's photos if they have a private account. That throws "stalking" out the window, making it harder to get a clear idea of your partner's style. If you want to view their photos, you must send a Follow Request that they will have to manually approve. Consequently, there is a greater chance your partner will deduce your identity, ruining the "secret" element of surprise.

Second, any swap-related photos a private user tags with the swap hashtag (like #KittyMiniQuiltSwap), will NOT appear under the hashtag feed unless you already have been approved to follow that user. That means if your partner snaps a photo of the lovely package you made for them and tags it with the swap hashtag, only their followers will be able to see it. Anyone who wants to browse the hashtag will never see your pretty swap items or their thankful comments. This may sound a little silly, but I would feel a bit sad that all the hard work I put into a swap package would only be seen by a small group of approved followers beyond my control. I want the joy to be spread far and wide!

I'm not going to pretend to be impartial on this subject, because I do feel that IG-based swaps are social by nature. It's called social media for a reason! Keeping your account private during a swap seems like going to a cocktail party with a bag on your head. However, I'm not saying people who want privacy should be excluded from swaps. I do think we both need to meet in the middle to make swaps enjoyable for everyone.

The easiest solution I think would be for private swappers to create a second, public account to use for swaps. Using a separate account would enable private swappers to maintain their personal privacy while selectively sharing swap-related photos. I think this would be the most simple, inclusive solution.

But what if private users do not adopt the second account approach? Well, if it is an important issue to the swap hosts, they could choose to designate their swap as a "social swap" or a "non-social swap." Social swaps would indicate that participants are expected to be public and active IG users in order to maximize the sense of community. Non-social swaps would release participants from these expectations, meaning you can share as much or as little as you like.

I personally would only want to host social swaps in the future, because I know how "meh" it can feel to be sewing a project for a virtual stranger. It's just not as fun for me, and I don't want other's to go through that if they want a more active, friendly environment.

I want to hear your opinions and thoughts on this subject! If you have a private account, how would you feel about making a public swap account? Have you ever been paired with a private partner? Do you have any other solutions to the issue? I want to know!

Why I Started (and Stopped) Avoiding Photography

Up until a couple months ago, I was sticking my head in the sand. I wanted to be a blogger. I wanted to have a successful blog. I wanted to inspire others with my work. What I didn't want to do, was take my camera out of my camera bag.

My Pullip Doll, MJ (2009)

You would never know from my earlier posts (crappy iPad pics), that I used to be really into photography. Like SERIOUSLY into it. When I was in high school, my dad gave me his old Canon EOS Digital Rebel (300D) after he noticed me spending hours trying to take photos with my brother's point-and-shoot. I was collecting Japanese and Korean toys at the time, and it was so fun to use them to tell cute, simple stories. When my beloved dog, Lyric, was diagnosed with terminal lymphoma during my senior year of high school, I spent my last afternoon with her taking pictures. I lived my life with my camera.

This is what I looked like for most of 2009

Lyric's last photos (2009)

 I went off to college in fall 2009, and a (hand-me-down) Canon Rebel XT (350D) came with me. The sub-mirror in my 300D gave out, and my father decided to upgrade to a newer model and give me his old model once again. During my freshman year, I made my then-boyfriend's (now-husband) apartment into my makeshift photo studio where I could snap pictures of my toys for hours. I even got two photos published in my university's annual art and literary magazine.

Some of my favorite toys, Napoleon and the Re-ment desk (2010)

My sophomore year, I took my first formal photography class and learned how to shoot in manual mode better, which was tricky at first, but I've never looked back. However, I didn't like my classroom environment which saw my toy photos as meaningless twaddle. But that gets filed under my beef with the whole fine art thing. Regardless, I was forced to relegate the photos I wanted to shoot to my free time, while most of my class assignments were pictures I wasn't very excited about.

A college selfie (2011)

By my junior year, I was free from photography class, and went back to shooting what I wanted. But somehow, the magic dried up while I was away from my toys. I started sewing clothes for my dolls in an effort to rekindle my passion, but it never really ignited. Strangely, my photographer side and my crafter side didn't gel as well as I'd like. The more I sewed, the less I photographed. I didn't have an audience who I thought would appreciate my work. All my friends thought my toys were either creepy or childish. Eventually, the fun just fizzled out and I stopped taking pictures for fun.

A dress for Bonaparte (2011)

My senior year, I landed a job with campus publications as the lead photographer / photo editor / photography manager. I was in charge of four photographers, and for the first time in my life, I was the boss...and it sucked. I had to be the bad guy, tell people their photos were poorly shot, make them re-shoot, etc. I also had to take lots of photos, usually of subjects I didn't care to shoot. More importantly, I felt like I was documenting my final year of college rather than actually living it. I didn't get to experience things like my peers because I was watching through a viewfinder. Before I knew it, I dreaded pulling out my camera. Even after I upgraded to a Rebel XSi (450D), I was only taking pictures for work. When your hobby becomes your job, sometimes it takes all the fun away.

So after I graduated college, my camera mostly sat in my camera bag doing nothing. I guess I had subconsciously started to regard photography more like a chore or a burden than a hobby. Even though I stopped working as a photographer, I had not regained my appetite for it. 

When I started quilting, I took all my pictures on my iPad. When I started blogging, I told myself it was okay to use those low-quality pictures because I was a new blogger. I knew I could do better, but I avoided the truth.

Self-portrait (2011)

A couple months ago, I was feeling pretty blue. I was unhappy with myself because I felt like I wasn't measuring up to my own expectations. Not in a perfectionist kind of way though. I just felt I wasn't realizing my potential. I have a lot of goals related to my craftiness, like writing a book, designing fabric...being someone who touches and inspires others. I realized that while I was setting all these goals for myself, I was not going to meet them while I was so obviously slacking as a blogger and an artist. I knew I had to start taking more initiative. 

Writing my Heather Ross post was like my come-to-Jesus to moment. I sat down, and told myself, "This post will be different. This is the start of the new me." I wrote it honestly, putting down my words exactly as they were in my head. Then, I finally did it: I took my camera out of my bag.

I shot tons of lovely photos for Patty's blog tour! So cute!

Since then, I've set two major blogging goals for myself: write two posts per week and shoot photos I can be proud of. So far, I haven't let myself down. I even did a photoshoot with my friend Patty Sloniger for her blog tour for her new fabric collection since she did have a camera at the time. Everything turned out amazingly beautiful, and I'm so proud of myself.

In the end, it's more bittersweet though. I still haven't regained my former passion for photography. I don't know that I will ever love it like I used to. Truthfully, it saddens me deeply to see such a dramatic shift in myself. I'm hoping the fun will slowly sprout again after what feels like a winter of pretty photos. Maybe then I can find a happy balance. 

If you want to see some of my photography work, check out my portfolio website, felice-regina.com. A larger (pre-college graduation) collection can also be seen in my Flickr albums.