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Exotic Fabrics and spools of thread in every imaginable hue cram bins and drawers in Sandra Scott's workroom, which overlooks a wildflower-splashed stretch of Illinois prairie.
"I can't sing or teach, and I'm shy about getting up in front of people," Sandra admits as she steps up to a piece of white felt tacked on her wall and arranges dozens of one-inch fabric squares. "My quilts are my way of expressing thanks to God for this wonderful gift he's given me."
Although Sandra made doll clothes as a child and has always done needlepoint, she learned to quilt only 12 years ago. Sandra and a friend took a handquilting class, and a few months later she entered her first two quilts in a local quilt show. She and her friend both won awards—and Sandra was hooked.
Sandra admits she's always had a way with color. For years she served as a design consultant for model homes and private clients, even though she had no professional interior design training.
"I like odd colors and color combinations," she says. "Painters use watercolors or oils, sculptors use clay, but I use fabric as my medium. Fabrics mix in messy puddles in my studio as I snip and shift to see what they'll do of their own accord. I'm merely the facilitator."
As one of the first American quilters to do colorwash quilting, Sandra uses a technique that involves mixing hundreds of small fabric squares to move through a color spectrum like watercolors. "It's not easy to do," Sandra says, "because you're trying to blend different fabrics. It's not like blending paint."
Nine years ago, Sandra's husband's job transfer forced a move from Florida and the oceanfront home she loved to the Chicago area with its brutal winters. It was the 24th move of their 35-year marriage. Less than a year later, her husband Robert's job was eliminated before they'd even moved into the home they were building. Sandra was forced to set aside her newfound passion for quilts and take a full-time job to help pay the bills.
Two years passed before a medical crisis returned her to the fabric artistry she loved. "It was just before Christmas and my husband was listening to a radio program on breast cancer as he was driving home from work. Robert came home and urged me to get a mammogram. I said, 'No way! It's nearly Christmas! I'll do it later.' He pressed hard, saying, 'Sandra, I feel strongly about this. I want you to do it right away.' I went that afternoon and, sure enough, the mammogram detected cancer."
Doctors urged Sandra to schedule an immediate radical mastectomy. They said a less-radical lumpectomy wasn't an option. Stunned, Sandra turned to family, her pastor, and church friends for counsel and support. She leaned heavily on the promises in Psalm 91.
"With a mastectomy you lose more than a breast. You also lose lymph nodes—which help your body fight infection. When I make quilts, my hands are always being pricked with a needle and my fingers bleed. Without lymph nodes, I would be at greater risk of infection." She sought a second medical opinion.
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