I am a quilter who cares about accuracy. There, I’ve said it.

But perfect? Not necessarily.  

Quilt with so many imperfections

I like my seams to behave themselves, my points to meet when they’re supposed to, my borders not to wave and my quilting to do what I intended it to do. I enjoy learning new techniques and getting better at the things I do. But do I think every quilt needs to be perfect? Absolutely not.

In fact, I think the pursuit of perfection can sometimes get in the way of making quilts, enjoying the process and, perhaps most importantly, learning something new.

Perfectionism and good workmanship aren’t the same thing

There is a difference between wanting to learn how to do something well and believing that if you can’t do it perfectly, you’ve failed.

The first is about developing your skills, understanding techniques and taking pride in your work. The second can be rather paralysing.

I’ve met plenty of quilters who worry about getting things wrong. They hesitate to try a new technique, spend ages unpicking something that nobody else would ever notice, or decide that they aren’t very good at quilting because their points don’t all meet perfectly.

And I think that’s a shame.

Making quilts involves learning, experimenting, making decisions and occasionally discovering that something hasn’t worked quite as we expected. That’s all part of the process. If we’re so worried about making mistakes that we don’t try anything new, we’re missing out on an awful lot of fun.

Now, I’m not saying accuracy doesn’t matter!

Before anyone thinks I’ve completely abandoned accuracy, I haven’t!

There are techniques where precision really does matter. Accurate cutting and sewing make life considerably easier, particularly when you’re working with blocks or designs that rely on pieces fitting together in a particular way.

Learning good techniques gives you more choices. Understanding how something works means you can make informed decisions about when and how to use it.

But accuracy and trying to be a perfectionist are not the same thing.

I want people to develop their skills, understand why we do things in particular ways and learn how to achieve the results they’re looking for. I don’t want them to believe that every seam has to be absolutely perfect or that a tiny discrepancy somehow makes their quilt a failure.

The quilt police aren’t coming!

I sometimes think we need to remind ourselves that there isn’t a secret quilting official waiting to inspect our seams.

Nobody is going to measure the points on your quilt while you’re asleep. (Well, I hope not!)

Of course, if you’re entering a quilt into a competition, there may be specific judging criteria and expectations. That’s a different situation. But most of us are making quilts for ourselves, our families, our friends or simply because we enjoy the process.

A quilt made for your bed doesn’t have to meet the same criteria as one entered into a competition. A quilt made to experiment with a new technique doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. And a quilt made simply because you love the fabrics and want to play with them doesn’t need to justify its existence at all.

We are allowed to make quilts that are a little wonky, a little unexpected or perhaps not quite what we originally intended.

When is good enough actually good enough?

I think this is one of the most useful things we can learn as quilters: knowing when to stop.

There is almost always something we could improve. We could unpick that seam, redo that block, add another line of quilting or spend another hour trying to get something just right.

But does it actually need fixing?

Sometimes good enough means we’ve achieved what we set out to do. It doesn’t mean we couldn’t be bothered or that we don’t care about the quality of our work. It means recognising that another three hours spent chasing a tiny improvement might not make any meaningful difference to the finished quilt.

And sometimes, knowing when to leave something alone is a skill in itself.

When you find yourself worrying about a particular part of a quilt, try stepping back and looking at the whole thing. I hang it on a wall where I can walk past it a lot/  Does that tiny discrepancy really matter? If it stops bothering me, I leave it.  If it continues to irritate me, then I fix it!  Does it affect how the quilt works? Will anyone else even notice?  

The Geometry of Weathered Things. Quilt where the edge finish needs attention – and yes, I did have to take the binding off and have another go!

And perhaps the most important question: am I fixing it because it genuinely needs fixing, or simply because I can’t bear the thought of it being imperfect?

What I want my students to feel

When I teach, one of the things I really want people to take away is the confidence to have a go.

I want them to feel able to try something new, ask questions, experiment and perhaps do things a little differently. I want them to understand the techniques, but also to feel comfortable adapting them and finding their own way of working.

I’m a great believer in asking “What if?”

What if we tried a different fabric? What if we changed the order of those pieces? What if we didn’t follow the instructions quite so literally? What if we just had a go and saw what happened?

Not everything will work. That’s fine. We learn from the things that don’t work just as much as we learn from the things that do.

The aim isn’t to lower our standards. It’s to give ourselves enough confidence to stretch ourselves, try new things and enjoy the process without worrying quite so much about getting everything right.

Make the quilt. Enjoy the process.

I care about good workmanship. I enjoy learning new skills and improving my techniques, and I take pride in the quilts I make.

But I don’t believe that every quilter needs to be a perfectionist.

Make it well. Learn your craft. Take pride in what you do. But don’t let the pursuit of perfection stop you making the quilt in the first place.

Quilters cats make beds anywhere – even on imperfect quilts!

And remember, the quilt police aren’t coming!

So, are you a perfectionist? Do you find yourself unpicking things that nobody else would notice, or are you happy to embrace the occasional wonky seam?

I’d love to know how you approach it!