The Battle of the Batt: Learning to Quilt in Tunisia

One cannot really speak of any sort of organized quilting activity in Tunisia, although sewing classes may include elementary patchwork techniques and some foreigners pursue the craft.  I was pretty much on my own when I wanted to have some quilts for my beds. As I knew how to sew, several books and a subscription to Quilter Newsletter Magazine got me through the learning stage, and what a bumpy ride it was, aggravated by the difficulty of finding batting. 

First of all, I bought a little Singer sewing machine, which is still with me. Works like a gem, talks to me, and performs acrobatics, and more importantly, I know how to repair it.  I’ve considered buying a new bigger and fancier machine, but this baby has become a part of me—it fits like an old pair of jeans. And, like I said, I don’t have to haul it back and forth to Tunis for maintenance and repairs. So, here is the beginning:

My first quilt was a sort of strippie quilt made from scraps of fabric from other sewing projects. Nothing to write home about (or post), but first efforts are monumental because we can measure the distance traveled, we love them like a first child, and because they concretely represent a challenge met. Lacking any kind of batting material, I used an old blanket and tied it. Then I proceeded on to a green log cabin quilt with whatever fabrics I could get ahold of (with little concern for quality), using a quilt-as-you-go technique. That poor quilt has faded to a yellowish green—downright ugly. A thick flannel-type fabric served as the batt making it heavy: It has been retired. I finally found sacks of polyester stuffing for pillows in Tunis so the next quilt was made of two-inch stuffed squares sewn together by hand—took forever to make and it still falls apart and needs constant repairing.

Things improved when I moved to the farm and claimed a bedroom for a studio. The local flea market had mountains of used clothing piled on the ground, overflow from certain charity industries in the States. 

You really didn't think all the cast-off clothing from consumer societies was sold in Western thrift stores, did you? Nope, it ends up in Africa and it's a money-making business, as in big bucks. 

Now there are tables and tarps overhead so the hunting is less back-breaking and therefore even more enjoyable. 

One can find shoes, purses, sheets, tablecloths, plus every article of clothing imaginable. For a few dollars I can buy a dozen used cotton shirts, skirts, and/or dresses. I then wash everything, cut it all apart, toss the seams and collars, save the buttons and labels, iron the fabric and fold it into rectangles that fit on the shelves in my studio. Most Saturdays I can be seen filling up my basket with clothes rather than food, especially at certain times of the month when new shipments arrive. Flea market vendors have savvy; they sell according to season so you won’t find sweaters on sale in the summer, for example. On the other hand, summer is a good time for cotton items. It’s like treasure hunting; sometimes one can find surprising and unexpected things. 

This week's hunting wasn't bad. The turquoise is a silk blouse...for 25 cents.
Thanks to the flea market, then, I accumulated a wide range of colors to work with and recycled fabrics with a bit of patina. Madam T. E. was my teacher—Trial and Error, which was sometimes an extreme form of learning. I tested out patterns, techniques, and sewing methods, and even made my own wool batts when I had a few sheep. That worked rather well, but I had to lay out the batt in bits and pieces which was time-consuming.  I also stuffed my suitcases with cotton batts when returning from vacations in the States. Now, I am thankful to find polyester batting in Tunis.

I made my share of bed quilts, pillows, bibs and what-not, and started designing my own appliqués. My skills were honed when I found a pharmacy that sold my crib quilts (with my original designs) to encourage the sale of baby products.  Gruelling production work that had deadlines. My workspace evolved with me.

And so, welcome to my studio. The desk/bookshelves are homemade, a perfect birthday gift.

A place for everything and everything in its place--button collection by color, thread (the French "Thiriez" thread on the right, my favorite), scissors, cutters, rulers. 

Ahhh, my fabric stash. I love being able to see it like a rainbow wrapped around the wall.

Two sawhorses hold my quilts so there are no folds. On top, the quiet side of a bed quilt that has wild pink, green and blue blocks on the reverse side. My studio rarely appears this orderly.


By 1991, I had developed enough technique in painting, drawing, macramé, sewing, embroidery, patchwork, appliqué, you name it. I moved on to art quilts when conflict in Iraq sent shock waves through the Middle East and the Maghreb (North Africa): I found my voice, I had something to say...


And here I am today: 

My latest work in progress. Given the current events in the region, my thoughts turn to order and disorder, discipline and chaos.

The blues and greens, leftover from another project, are machine top-stitched with a nylon thread (raw edges showing), while the warm colors are hand appliquéd using a needle-turn method. 

Some of the strips in the maze measure about an eighth of an inch. I carried this piece around with me for about ten years, stitching on it occasionally.  

The distance we can travel...