UST LIKE THE painter, the quilter is a kind of alchemist, transforming the scraps of everyday experience into something otherworldly, something imbued with beauty and significance both personal and cultural. When we see a painting, we—the well-read viewers, the lovers of aesthetics—have been taught to move past simple subjective responses and to tease apart meaning. With the quilt, nostalgia seeps in. Seen in a domestic context, we recognize its role as a source of warmth and decorative beauty. While the color and patterns may serve as a sort of mental balm to soothe and gratify, too often we stop there. Placed on the walls of a gallery, we
