A reflection on abstraction, process, and quiet disruption through cloth

I often find myself returning to the question of what makes a quilt feel modern. It isn’t a strict style or single way of working, there’s no universal rulebook. For me, the idea of a modern quilt feels more like a space: one that’s open, evolving, and shaped by intent. It draws on traditions but shifts the rhythm. It brings together function and form, but it leaves room for feeling.

Looking Back, Then Loosening the Thread

To say “modern quilt” can mean a few different things. For some, it points to a visual style, bold colour blocks, graphic lines, improvisation. For others, it’s about timeline or ethos: the Modern Quilt Guild defines modern quilting with characteristics like asymmetry, minimalism, and reimagined traditional patterns. And yet, what I respond to most in modern quilts is often more instinctive.

There’s a long history of makers reinterpreting cloth in ways that feel fresh, expressive, and present. I think of the women of Gee’s Bend in Alabama, who used salvaged workwear and household fabrics to create powerful compositions — not from pattern books, but from memory, necessity, and imagination.

Work-clothes quilt - 2002 - Denim and cotton - 86 x 72 inches Mary Lee Bendolph - Photo: Stephen Pitkin/Pitkin Studio

Or of artists like Sonia Delaunay, who applied abstraction to textiles as early as 1911, blurring the boundaries between fine art and domestic craft. Their work wasn’t labelled ‘modern quilts’ at the time, but it resonates deeply with what many of us now associate with the term.

Abstraction, Tactility and Intent

In many modern quilts, there’s a move away from grid-like repetition or perfect symmetry. Instead, we see larger blocks of colour, negative space, off-kilter arrangements. Some feel calm and minimal; others are vibrant, expressive, almost painterly. This shift isn’t just aesthetic, it changes the rhythm of making. It invites the maker to be more responsive. To notice, to feel, to allow variation.

In my own work under House of Quinn, I begin with fragments, often reclaimed fabrics or offcuts, and assemble them by intuition. Composition becomes a slow conversation between cloth and hand. I stitch by hand too, favouring time over speed. Each mark, each line of thread, adds weight and warmth. I don’t use templates or follow traditional blocks. Instead, I build surfaces through arrangement, pause, and adjustment.

This way of working feels modern to me not because it rejects tradition, but because it allows for freedom. It honours the past but isn’t bound by it.

Memory Held in Fabric

Modern quilts often carry something more than pattern, they hold personal or emotional meaning. Sometimes quietly. A piece of worn fabric might recall a place, a feeling, a gesture. Colour becomes a way of expressing tone or atmosphere. Shape can suggest something unresolved, or shifting.

I think that’s part of what draws me to quilting in the first place: its ability to hold memory in a tactile way. There’s something profound about piecing together materials that once lived elsewhere, and giving them new form. In that sense, the modern quilt isn’t just a design object or functional item, it becomes a container for story, time, and connection.

The Quilt as Object

There’s also a growing shift in how quilts are being seen, not only as useful items but as objects of art and design. Exhibitions, publications, and collectors are beginning to pay attention to quilts in new ways. At the same time, many of us working in this space continue to blur the lines: making pieces that could live on a wall, a bed, or in a gallery, but don’t need to be confined to any one use.

Some of my pieces are explicitly made to hang. Others are more open, they might be functional, but they’re made with the same level of attention, abstraction, and care. That ambiguity feels right. It allows the viewer, or the owner, to decide how to live with the work.

A Quiet, Ongoing Practice

When I think about what makes a quilt modern, I don’t see a checklist of traits. I see a quiet practice that makes space for interpretation. A quilt that feels modern might be asymmetrical, boldly minimal, or richly layered. It might use vintage cloth or new materials. It might come together through planning or improvisation. What unites these pieces is often a sense of presence, a way of being with the work as it’s made.

I don't consider myself an expert on quilting history or technique. I came to it through curiosity and instinct. What keeps me here is the feeling of building something slowly, thoughtfully, and with care. That, to me, is the spirit of a modern quilt.

FIND OUT MORE

Read my artcile in House & Garden about the global traditions of quilting here

You can explore my current quilt and textile works here or read more about my process in the journal.

For custom works, commissions, or collaborations, get in touch here.

What Makes a Modern Quilt