Karen Simpson Horse Quilt., a set on Flickr.
I think one of the earliest religious disappointments as a
young girls developed from my unanswered prayer for a horse. In the 1960’s
I was an African American girl praying for a dream that from all the evidence
only white people could make come true. There were no brown children like me
riding horses on the television or on the movie screen. There were no heroes of
African descent riding fast horses to victory in any of the books I read. Yet I
believed, as only a child can believe, that if I prayed, wished on stars and
blew on the fluffy heads of dandelions that one day God would reward my faith.
Sometimes God says yes. Sometimes God says no. Sometime God
just hands you a slightly wild idea and tells you to run with it. My love of
horses would lead me to a degree in Animal Science, however, what I wanted, but
didn’t have for a long time was an artistic touchstone that connected my
passion for horses to my African American heritage.
Several years ago, as I was flipping through a now defunct
fiber arts magazine I came upon an advertisement for an African textiles
exhibit, which featured pictures of Hausa horsemen in quilted armor. For me the photos were an epiphany, a
flash of the spirit, and an ancestral voice told me that I had to make myself
quilted armor and that it didn’t matter that I didn’t know a thing about
quilting.
I can say now that it was a call to an important artistic
journey; however, my first quilt teacher considered my goal of a quilt for horses
to be down right strange. I went ahead anyway. What I learned in her classes was
not only the basics of quilting but also the courage to ignore criticism and
follow my artistic passions. My first quilt project ended up being a quilted coat for a horse and me.
I have now been a quilter for about 20 years and taught
quilting for over 15.
Until last
week the quilted armor I’d created had never been on a horse. I met up with an
old
friend who had a pony named
Dancer. On a beautiful sun drenched day Dancer wore my coat, the amazing thing
is that it fit like I’d made it for him.