And now for something completely different

I’ve been thinking about fractals lately – ‘fractal’ geometry, a word derived from the Latin meaning broken or fractured. They are all around visually, and also invisible living phenomena, like blood vessels. They can be seen in the branch patterns of trees and the veins of leaves, in hurricanes and lightening bolts, seashells and snowflakes, river deltas and spider webs. They are certainly evident in the usual block formations and iterations in building quilts, where the whole is made up from the smaller parts. The most basic form is the circle. Think about raindrops falling on a pond of water, and the ripple effect – or even the most basic parts of our being, the formation of our living cells from stem cells through to our organs. What fascinates me is the interdependence that brings about unity and cooperation. 

 The mathematical formula that explains fractal geometry shows how fractals are formed by iteration. Benoit Mandelbrot used a simple equation, where the numerical answer arrived at is fed back into the original equation in a repeated circular motion thousands of times over to explain the structure of the world we live in. Even the rugged outlines of mountains follow this repetitive process. What has come to be known mathematically after its creator as the Mandelbrot Set started with his ‘theory of roughness’, and looking for patterns in the world around us. The outcome was his formula, one that unlocks the ‘roughness’ of the Universe, from the clustering of galaxies to frequencies that enable mobile phones into a pattern. It describes creation in action as a simple process of re-iteration, through a form of feedback to create self-similarity in the purpose of re-creation. 

 

Andy Goldsworthy often uses the circle as a starting point for his wonderful works in the landscape, using materials from the environment to create impermanent structures that replicate fractals, whether it be from snow, rocks or leaves. He points out through his art that if we lose connection with nature we lose connection with ourselves – because we are nature. Returning to my fabric circles, and next stage of construction…

I have very much enjoyed putting the circular florets together over the time of dealing with the restrictions imposed by response to the pandemic, gradually growing them by layering contrasting fabrics from my stash, to randomly build up the different and repeated shapes and colours. I am building on an earlier vision, sparked by the little carry case bought quite a while back at a Reject store for $8. (see Archive 2020). The circles are mostly completed, though some of the florets need to be brought into full bloom, with the centres needing to be added to with smaller circles that stretch back – zoom out into infinity, holding the seeds for the next iteration of the genus. 

A lot of life-surging waters have passed under the bridge since beginning this project, both during the pandemic and in my personal life. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the number of circle flowers, sixteen in the orange colour way, five in blues, and others in yellow, the way to bring them together into one space was looking a bit daunting. I did consider putting them back in their tub to wait for another airing – maybe later, in full summer, but they prevailed and I decide to press on. 

Having matched the background colour fairly closely to that of the inspirational little carry case, there was nothing stopping me from taking the next step in bringing the 23 circle fractals together. But before moving into action I had to think ahead, since the circles are layers of fused fabric – four layers at least, attached to a fused base that will in turn be attached to the background in the same way. In this type of applique it is essential to stitch through all layers for stability the overall fixture of them - and to prevent fraying at the edges. 

I have used the machine applique technique by double stitching each individual shape, both inside the shape and outside at its edge.  However, the skills required of such machine work in the case of my circles and their greenery is I have to admit beyond me, and the tediousness is certainly enough to put me off such a tack. As a result, I started to think about long-arm machine quilting. The decision to have the final outcome commercially quilted has provided the ground for moving forward, so I go ahead arranging the circles on vertical panels. With the circles ironed on to one panel, joined by their green stems, the sense of an underwater world comes through, showing itself as coral formations, formed as they are too by the self-similarity of fractals. 

Here is how the first panel is shaping up. Not quilt stitched yet.