The Slow Stitching Movement

06/29/2026

MUSINGS ON DIGITALLY PRINTED FABRICS

Can I confess something without getting kicked out of the quilting community? (as if that’s never happened before…) I kinda’ hate digitally printed fabrics.

There. I said it and I don’t even care.

Here’s the background: Somewhere between 2007 and 2009, digitally printed collections started showing up at Quilt Market, but in very small quantities. As I recall, they were pretty expensive (mere pennies/nickles compared to today’s quilt shop SALE prices) and I really only remember them being used for panels. There might’ve been fabric collections, but I don’t remember that. It doesn’t matter, the dye had been cast.

Within about 2 more years, Hofffman fabrics kind of became the de facto leader in producing and promoting digital fabrics to quilters. Then, just a couple of years later, by 2015, digital fabrics were part of the mainstream. P&B, Northcott, Robert Kaufman, Clothworks, Benartex, QT Fabrics, and others jumped on the bandwagon with some success and limited collections available to retailers.

So digital fabrics have been around for at least 25 years now and while I had hoped they might get better in terms of quality and their hand, I don’t think we’ve seen much progress there. I’d really like to see some more research and trial and error to get these things feeling like cotton and not cotton with a schmear of colored coating.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that digital prints are wrong. They’re just totally wrong for me. They’re just…not my cup of tea and I can’t make apologies for it. By the way, it’s not like they are any less expensive than screen printed, and they feel weird to me. No matter how much I might love the design and the work of the talented designers, 1000 college pool-boys with washboard abs couldn’t make me click on, “Add to my Cart”.

I know they’re here to stay, and many of them are absolutely beautiful — spectacular even. But every time I find one online or I pick up a bolt in a shop, I find myself wandering back to blenders, batiks or good old-fashioned fabulous screen prints like a homing pigeon wearing orthopedic shoes.

One thing I’m finally getting better at is making my own decisions instead of waiting for my tribe to tell me what to think.

That said, it’s interesting when experienced quilters who don’t even know each other keep making the same observations. My buddy G hates the way many digitally printed fabrics develop needle runs and snags, show little white “flares,” and seem to retain every needle hole. Another longtime quilting friend, N, actually stopped in the middle of piecing a quilt because she thought she’d accidentally grabbed polyester—that’s how different the fabric felt. Yet another quilter says digitally printed fabrics are harder to piece accurately, more difficult to press, and no fun at all to hand quilt.

G also wonders how they’ll hold up over time, and she’s not alone. I’m already hearing quilters say some digitally printed fabrics seem to fade faster and lose color after only a few washings. The bright white backing doesn’t help either. The minute a seam shifts or a hem turns, that white peeks through like a flashing neon sign. Fraying is another complaint I hear again and again.

Now, does this mean all digitally printed fabric is bad? Of course not. Again, there are some beautiful prints out there. But when experienced quilters—working independently of one another—keep raising the same concerns, I think it’s worth paying attention instead of dismissing them.

Now, here’s the part that took me years to learn: Getting older has made me an even a bigger pain-in-the-ass, but it’s also been deliciously liberating.

I don’t have to love what everyone else loves, and I don’t have to apologize for my preferences and neither do you. Mostly, I certainly don’t have to pretend to be charmed by a product just because fabric companies are looking for other ways that are more economical for them to produce — which is 1,000,000% above board and legit, by the way — not that we’ll see much, if any, of those savings per yard when we’re feeding our textile hoard.

In any event, whether it’s fabric, music, art, politics, or dessert…It’s perfectly okey-dokey to say, “That’s kinda’ nice…but it ain’t for me.”

The quilting world is big enough for all of us - except if you like digital prints (I’M KIDDING!! IT’S A JOKE!!). Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some batik swap fat quarters that have been calling my name — for what I don’t know, but it’s better than a cheesecake tempting me.

Love to you all. xoxom ❤️





10/09/2025

AN UPDATE

At the end of September, I was given a miracle — the kind that rearranges your soul and humbles you to your knees. I received a kidney from a 48-year-old man in Manhattan. I never met him, but his kindness is literally keeping me alive. His generosity flows through my veins with every heartbeat, every laugh, every breath. I think about him all the time — a stranger who decided that someone else’s tomorrow was worth his today. If that isn’t love in its purest form, I don’t know what is.

When I tell you this kidney is working overtime, I mean it. My creatinine dropped from 12 to 1.5 (medical folks, pick your jaws up off the floor), and I am making more urine than I ever thought possible. Let me tell you, I’ve never been more proud of bodily fluids in my entire life. P*e has never been so poetic. Life — even in the smallest, strangest ways — is flowing again.

But because apparently my life decided to take a sharp turn into the “Are You Kidding Me?” section of Netflix, just one week after surgery I stood up to go to the bathroom, my blood pressure plummeted, and down I went — headfirst, lights out. I woke up not knowing my name, where I was, or what year it was. I couldn’t even tell you who the president was (and honestly, maybe that’s the one mercy in this story).

I woke up in an ICU, the second of two ambulance trips that I don’t remember. Apparently, I was so out of control that I was pulling tubes and ports and assistive devices from my arms and legs. I was tied down and I wasn’t even allowed to a drop of water. Then somewhere in the middle of that chaos, my heart had stopped beating. That ‘ look ‘ swept over my face as I begun the business of my dying. Stopped heart. As in done. Really done. But fate — or God, or luck, or maybe just the universe refusing to be done with me yet — placed a doctor in that room who didn’t hesitate for a second. He jumped on me — literally — and within four minutes had my heart beating again. Four minutes between this world and a few broken ribs and whatever comes next. Four minutes that changed everything.

It turns out a simple urinary tract infection had gone septic and spread into my blood/brain barriers and my brain short-circuited. I wasn’t myself for days. The perfectionist was missing. The control freak was not to be found anywhere. I was lost. Lost in plain sight — And then — like the flip of a switch — I came back. Just like that. I woke up and recognized the world again. I knew who I was. I knew what I had to do: live.

So here I am — alive. I am home from the hospital, still fighting to stay home, but I’m alive. And with every breath I take, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. For modern medicine. For nurses who treated me with tenderness even when I’m not my best self. For doctors who refused to give up. For friends who send prayers, jokes, and love when I need them most. For my family, who never once stopped believing that I would come back from wherever I was. I, and we, have so much more to do.

And above all — for that man in Manhattan. My kidney donor. My unknown hero You didn’t just save my life; you changed the way I understand it. Every sunrise now feels like a gift we share. I carry you with me — your kindness, your courage, your heartbeat that echoes in mine.

Life is fragile. Terrifyingly so. But it’s also strong and beautiful and funny and breathtakingly generous. I’ve been to the edge — and somehow, I’m still here. And if you’re reading this, I want you to know: I see you. The ones who are scared. The ones who are tired. The ones who are fighting battles nobody else can see. You’re not alone. I get it. I know you.

If you’re the praying kind, please keep me in yours. Pray that my kidney keeps thriving, that the tests continue to run smoothly, and that I can make a significant difference in the world during the last part of my life. Pray for the man who gave me this new chance at an old life. Pray for the doctor who jumped into action and restarted my heart. Pray for every person waiting for a miracle of their own.

Because miracles are real. I’m living proof.
And after all that’s happened, I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty: being here — just being here — is everything.

10/18/2019

Read it for a surprise! We’re mentioned!

In a society where technology is king, with everything from the weekly shop to reading the latest thriller possible to achieve on a machine, it’s hardly surprising that mindfulness is having a bit of a moment. We all struggle at some point in our lives with mental health, be it dealing with a majo...

11/23/2017

So very thankful for another year with my family and with all of you, who have supported me through the loss of my new kidney and starting dialysis this year. Life and living seems to be but a crap shoot, doesn't it? Also, to steal a quote from the film, Mrs. Miniver, "The prayer for peace continues in our hearts, coupled now with prayers for our country." Happy Thanksgiving to all. And let the Christmas carols begin!

10/22/2017

I don't say this often but I'm pretty happy about my article in the newly released issue of Quilt Festival magazine. There is an element of being present and connecting, very much in line with the philosophy of the Slow Stitching Movement. I also think that a lot of you will relate to the piece. Not only that, but it's a pretty good issue, too. Lots of beautiful quilts and some very nice, colorful patterns to piece. I hope you pick up a copy. xooxm

12/03/2016

Thought you might be interested in this article from the Pittsburgh Post Gazette. Enjoy. xooxm

http://www.post-gazette.com/ae/art-architecture/2016/12/02/Loyalhannon-Spinners-find-peace-in-ancient-textile-art/stories/201612020002

When life starts spinning out of control, Mark Floreanini sidles up to his spindle. Spinning — as in turning wool into yarn — is the perfect antidote for the stressors of today, said Brother Mark, a monk at Saint Vincent College near Latrobe. “The repetitive action is really relaxing.’’ He is a memb...

11/26/2016

FIBER ARTISTS: I was on my way home from the pharmacy about an hour ago and just heard a ‘Moth' story by Navajo artist, Melanie Yazzi, who discusses legacy and family through fiber art. I think you’ll find it both heartwarming and interesting. And a gentle reminder: DO NOT FORGET TO LABEL YOUR WORK. Melanie’s story begins at the 00:15:00 mark in the recording. Enjoy.
LISTEN HERE: https://beta.prx.org/stories/186851

11/24/2016

To you and yours ...

11/22/2016

Thought you might be interested. I wanted to share this blog post. It’s review of House of Embroidery Threads from Mary Corbett’s site (which I love). Richard Kennair, one of our FB Friends here, is the contact person for this company and I had to share his success with you. Take a look: http://www.needlenthread.com/2016/11/house-of-embroidery-threads-review.html