Drawing with thread in a loose, painterly way

This small sample, only 4 1/2″ square, is the result of wondering what threads would be best for drawing and sketching with a needle.  I wanted to be able to make quick, sometimes unruly lines rather than the smooth ones that are characteristic of most embroidery— a sort of drawing with pencil rather than painting with acrylics or oils.

I discovered that linen makes the best line drawings.  It stands away from the fabric, is a little stiff and sometimes unmanageable, but always interesting.  It looks a lot like the rough sketches I sometimes make when doodling or thinking quickly with pen and paper.  In the upper left corner is a little snippet of sari silk yarn, which reminds me not to take myself too seriously when I am “what-if-ing.”

Valley Farm

A visit to the farm in the valley.  A detail of one corner of larger embroidery.  From a memory of childhood, a visit to the farm of my mother’s sister.  The terraced fields seemed so tall to little legs, but the trip to pick fruit was worth the hike.

A little night music

It is the dark time; day or night, it is all the same to the linen and floss.

Rusting Fabrics

First efforts at rusting fabric were more than satisfactory.  I luuuuuuuve this!  There is a mysterious quality to a cloth with random marks on it that is not quite the same as a cloth that has been organized in a commercially printed manner.  The first experiment was to bundle, with no plan or organization for the shapes.  And using tea leaves, for grey and charcoal tones.  Next time I will start to organize the shapes on the fabric a bit more.

Above is a piece of China Silk, with single-strand cotton floss embroidery worked as an ATC.

Below is a lot of layering with stitches, vintage leather, buttons (the old, less-than-perfect ones match the rusting and scrappy-fabric quality of this piece), and a little twig, on right.

I am not a difficult woman to please, am I?  Rusted objects, scraps of fabric, odd threads, a handful of buttons . . .  My thanks to Tone and my sister for the old rusty objects.

Waving Line Sampler (s)

First is the Doodle Cloth, where the fun thinking and splashy experimenting was going on:

Then, the results moved to the canvas of what was the "real" sampler.  These next shots are of sections of that second, more thoughtful stitched sampler, up close and personal.

I included the funky edge because it is meant to be a fun, playful sampler.

The returning curve below, on right, is a Herringbone Stitch taken to extreme angles, but kept small.  It reminds me of prickly thorn vines.

The variegated Satin Stitch surprised me at how much fun it was to stitch.  Tedious, yes, but the precision it required was rewarding.  The coil is Double Knots in a tapestry-weight cotton.

And the needleweaving over the shisha mirror was right out of the 1960s and 70s.  Old doesn't mean "not good!"

Stitching lines that travel in other than straight paths was a good thinking exercise for me.  In the process, I began to make notes about ideas I had that came from all that twining and dancing-line stitchery, and I filled an entire sketchbook!  I carried the little book with me everywhere and wrote, drew, colored, and pasted frenetically, collecting possibilities that might morph into other stitched pieces along the way.  The experience was so fruitful that I'm not sure I ever want to stitch a straight line again!

Snapshot Embroidery

This is a snapshot of the white lamp in the corner of the living room at our home of many years ago.  Or, it is a cropped portion of that corner of the room I embroidered several times.  The walls were papered in grasscloth that had been painted.  What a nasty mess!  It couldn't come down without taking part of the wall with it, so I dreamt up this stitched wallpaper to replace it.  The real corner was not so inviting as this one.

I needed something for a small spot on a nearly-filled wall, so I gathered buttons and shells and made this autumn-colored wall hanging (yes, for the grasscloth-wallpapered room):

It is a memory of beach vacationing, soft sands and bits of washed-up shells.  The ground fabric is evenweave, and it took me forever to stitch this, because of my double stigmatism.  I remember wondering, for the umpteenth time, why people thought counted work was a fun thing to do . . .

Embroidered Garden Plans, #1

Once upon a time, when I had a very small house in a very small neighborhood with a very small place to garden, I spent a great deal of time embroidering garden plots, plans of the gardens I would like to plant.  I share some of these with you.

The first is row upon row of brightly blooming annuals that have all but squeezed out that offensive bit of green lawn.  Here is yet another example of my over-fondness for Bullions and Knots elbowing its way to the forefront.  And, by the way, I still think the green sward is a waste of time and energy and garden space.  My ideal front yard is a wildflower field.  Don't think the neighbors would quite "get" it, though.

And this is a schematic for the odd-shaped corner of a place of my imagination.  Well, the finished product was a place of the imagination.  The oddly shaped lot was the one our little cottage home was on many years ago.  As I was snipping the striped fabric for the mail area, I was thinking about how nice it would be to grow stitches, to plant seeds of Herringbone or Detached Chain, to see a blooming sun and perpetual spring trees . . .

They are both from the mid or late 1980s.  Once I was able to garden with some serious intent, the garden plans stopped.  What a shame-- the task of weeding was such a simple one, here!

There are more.  I will excavate another strata in the studio sometime in the next week or two.  I rather enjoy visiting with these old friends once more.

Little Houses, continued

From my sister, on vacation, came this postcard:

Now you can see who got the art gene in the family.  Makes me want to drop everything and start stitching little houses and French-knotted trees . . .  Hmmm . . .

Thank you, Michelle.

Scattered

I came across this word today, which reminded me of my mother's voice saying, "If the shoe fits, wear it."  I'm wearing it, Mother.  Both feet, in fact.

This little bit of thinking out loud came about when I looked to see these projects laid out on my stitchery work table:

• a) Buttonhole stitches completely covering a scrim and wool batting sandwich with occasional breaks to machine felts portion of it;  
• b) pockets being stitched up from older work that never made it to the finish line for one reason or another ;  
• c) small stitch experiments on ATC-sized fabric sandwiches;  
• d) an ongoing search for a particular textured fabric from a drawer of small scraps (I was sooooo sure I put it here, somewhere);  and, 
• e) a pocket sketchbook and Micron pen to make notes on things that might be further explored at another time.

I move between the projects.  When I am tired of one, I pop on to the next.  It could also be Adult Onset Attention Deficit.  I wonder if Medicare covers treatment for such a diagnosis?

Scattered.  The shoes fit embarrassingly well.

Creative Activity = Mess = Progress

There is a colorful mess in the studio right now.  I am in the "Oh— I'll try that next" mode, which means that when I pick up something that has a possibility I would like to develop, it does not go back in its proper place, but stays on the stitchery table.  I have managed, by means neither helpful to me nor to the item I just left on the table, to scoop out a tiny place to work . . .

Once Upon A Time, when I was teaching at the Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, NC, Alice Berg was in my class.  Alice's specialty was Alice in Wonderland paper projects, and she was very good at this.  She said that no matter how much space she planned for herself, she always had only a small area on her table to work.  Having two tables didn't help for more than a few minutes.  This gave me hope for myself, and I began to believe that at the end of my time I would not be judged by my workspace but by what I produced in it.  After all, if neatness was the criteria for living, this would be a very clean and tidy planet with absolutely nothing of interest happening on it.

Bethy shares my space on the days she is with me.  Here are dress-up clothes (inspiration) and some really fantastic aprons donated by Jill (she will sometimes wear two, one to cover the back, one for the front).  And there is the tiny desk I had as a child, that her dad used as a child, and that she now uses.  The lid lifts, and (in theory) all her things can be stored inside.  The reality is that she has habits of impulse and untidiness so like my own, including the tendency to hold on to things that should be thrown away but that just maybe-could-be-possibly-one-day useful . . .  So, there is a bit of clutter that goes unchecked in an otherwise cluttered space— but we are both comfortable with it.  Creativity is not always tidy, is it?

That is a long, long, bit of hem-hawing and excusing oneself for not photographing the rest of the studio, isn't it?

Meanwhile, I found the most amazing pieces of linen in a bag that had been stored in my son's basement for years.  His clean-out was a big one, and when he brought this to me, I jumped at the chance to wash and dry it (heavy, rough linen meant for counted work) and to add some color to a piece of white linen that has such an appealing texture . . .  They're somewhere on the stitchery table, I believe . . .  Maybe if I have a cup of tea first . . .

C = M.
M = P.
Elementary, my dear Watson.

Zentangler, Margaret Bremner

I have just stumbled on the most awesome Zentangle from artist Margaret Bremner, in Canada.  Her blog, Enthusiastic Artist, is here.  On 21 June 2011 she posted photos of a stunning piece of commissioned art, ten houses, that is a show-stopper.

I love to zentangle, and when the tangling is raised to the level of art as this picture is, I get lost in all the details there.  I particularly enjoyed the photos of the step-by-step process in the making of the piece.

I hope you stop by and check this post.  It's worth the trip.

Now, as I've been inspired to tangle, I'll take my sketchbook with me for my trip to the allergist this morning.  The twenty-minute wait following the injections passes much faster if I have something interesting to do with my hands . . .

Sibling Problems

Bethy is, by Bill Cosby's description, the family "Informer."  And she informed on Ethan last week.

After the dust had settled, Bethy was fine, but Ethan was still cogitating over the fracas.  He thought about this for an evening and most of the next day, then told his dad,

"Tattletales don't turn into butterflies like caterpillars do.  They turn into frogs."

Well-spoken, when you consider that he will not be five for two more months!

Couching Favorite

Besides Bullion Stitches, I am very fond of couching.  Couched Linen Thread is a stunning texture, but even the humble cotton floss can be impressive when the couching is tiny, tight, and rather close-packed.  This is a small section of a much larger work.

Rug-Style Embroidery

This piece was laid down as a series of stripes, a sort of modified log-cabin quilt block.  With some poetic license.  From the stitched frame, you may deduce (correctly) that I am overly fond of Bullion Stitches.

This is what I call "Rug-Style" embroidery, because the surface is completely covered.  I believe this may be a piece I stitched during several church services many years ago.  The organ was in a pit, behind a low wall, and surrounded by choir members-- too tempting!

No, the Devil did not make me do it; I am perfectly capable of discovering temptation without any outside help.

Woman's Work

One idea, two ways of seeing it.

The first is the feeling my way through the idea, of putting the shapes together.    Stitched on a rough linen ground with cotton threads:

After some weeks had passed, I reconsidered how I felt about the work of women.  The second piece is worked on a silk broadcloth background with silk floss and perle.  Smile at the beads over the cloth/rug being shaken.

This is the finished piece.

From 2000.

It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood!

Still digging through boxes of old work.  Still finding things I'm so glad I kept!  This one needs some work-- stretched on sticky board, the acid residue is yellowing the linen.  Poor little neighborhood!  Cleaning this one and re-stretching it properly will be another hair-puller.  I am to the point I want to do my own stretching before I hand a fiber piece to the framer for matting and mounting in the frame.

The piece is stitched in the round.  More pix to come after pulling it away from its *@%$## backing.

Note to the Autumn

Welcome, Autumn!

Although we thought you'd lost your way and would only find us some time after Christmas, you've put in brief appearances these past two weeks.  Acorns everywhere.   Crumbled and wrinkled leaves like old parchment, turning by slow degrees to colors in the warmth of an evening's fire.  Overturned pots where the squirrels and chipmunks have been unpacking the latest trip to the grocer.  Seed Pods collecting in low spots of the garden, drying and waiting to sleep deeply and dream of the spring . . .

So glad you found us!  Come in.  Stay a while.  Remind us of how beautiful you can be.

Waving and Curving Lines

The very best part of a basket of threads is the potential there.  The colors are lovely, the textures are varied, and nearby is a pin cushion full of needles of every size from a huge size 1 down to a barely-visible beading needle.

I have been thinking about waving, curving lines these last few days.  This is a group project for our November Freestyle meeting at Marcia's house.  I suggested that we all try to make a sampler, large or small, using wave-ish lines, not straight ones.  Any stitch.  Any thread.  We will make a collection of Freestyle samplers and display them at the April Chapter Meeting of the Knoxville EGA.  Unlike most of the neat and tidy samplers made by chapter members, the lines and stitches will roam in our display.

When I stitch lines that are allowed to wander where they may, my entire brain shifts into another gear.  I reach for a sketchbook and jot something there, even if it is only a few words or a very rough sketch of an idea to try when this project is done.  Everything about me loosens up, and I even smile as I stitch.  When I'm working this way, the ideas seem endless.

But in stitching straight lines, however, I stitch myself into the proverbial box that I should be thinking out of (I won't even mention how many rules of grammar were smashed in that sentence).  Instead of loosening up the way I do with curving lines, I tighten up— my stitches, my shoulders, I even clamp my arms to my sides.  Pathetic.  Really.

Which brings me back to the basket of threads.  I have some lovely hand-dyed threads that have been calling to me for several weeks, now, and on Monday I put a large group of these autumn-colored hanks and skeins in the play-with-me basket, and have been stitching lines on a piece of discharged linen since then.  The linen's original color was pumpkin orange, but it has been reduced to a melon that is not so hard on the eyes.  The body of the waving line sampler is almost done.  Once the main bones are in place, I can go back and stitch in and out and around these lines.  I will share the sampler with you when it is more of a finished work.

Meanwhile, I stitch a little, reach for the sketchbook, go to an old Doodle Cloth or book of stitches and flip through until something interesting pops off the page at me, and I start working on a way to curve it across the melon linen . . .

I can't imagine what I would do for fun without the studio!

You want WHAT for dinner?

Fixed HOW?

Uh-hu.  Well, you just sit there and pray over it.

Oh, no.  YOU killed it.  You take it outside and cook it.

I said, OUTSIDE.

No, sir.  Not in MY kitchen you don't.

Either cook it or bury it.

OUTSIDE.

Rational Thought and Travel To Asheville

We left Knoxville on Wednesday afternoon for a day of shopping in Asheville, then up the Parkway to the Folk Art Center, Big Lynn Lodge, Grassy Mountain Bookstore, Penland, Burnsville, Celo, back to Asheville and to Waechter's, to Dillsborough. . .  Four days away from the sanity of home, and it was so beautiful I couldn't think rationally.

Somewhere in the trip, my brain got shaken up.  It might have been when I was photographing a beautiful dead tree beside a Parkway overlook and as I backed, then began walking away from it, a bear popped up from the hillside, loped across the road about 50 feet away, looked at me and decided I was too much trouble to be an afternoon snack and then disappeared into the hill above me . . .  It was probably that moment when everything got discombobulated and my marbles started rolling around in the big, empty place that passes for my brain.

The marbles were still rolling around trying to find a new spot to come to rest when I heard a voice telling me, "A Quilt!!!  You are making a quilt, Nancy!"

Instead of my usual gulp of fear and immediate quelling behavior, I smiled and began to really like the idea.  In fact, I bought fabric for this project.

It was when I was standing in Waechter's looking at the lovely soft cottons and planning my hand-painting of the pieces to be applied to the soft linen ground that whatever had been shaken out of place in my loose brain began to rattle back in its niche.  I couldn't decide on a fabric.  I couldn't begin to make the quilt I had dreamt up.  I was standing there holding the most lovely white cottons I have seen since . . . when?. . . and I couldn't move.

When I got home, I was exhausted (riding for hours on end wears me out, sets the replaced bones to aching and then to screaming) but I crawled to the computer and e-mailed Jill an SOS for intervention.

The call I got in response to the e-mail was a calm, perfectly collected voice that said, "You are not going to make a quilt.  Stop thinking about it.  Go into your studio and make little pieces that are over in a few days and you can move on to your next idea."

And it worked.  No quilt, but several small pieces in the works, now.

Thank you, Jill.

Oh-- I offer this photo of the bear as proof positive that I saw what I saw and did not even exaggerate.  Scouts Honor.

Restoration of a 1988 Needlework Project

There were all sorts of problems with this piece, "A Child's World," that I worked on in 1988-89.  First, it had been stitched in separate parts and appliquéd to a pink-striped cotton background, but it had not been attached properly.  So, it was sagging a bit.

The stars and moon seemed too heavy for the fabric.

And here, in the black space under the blue trees, there should have been a white cloud.  All that remained was bits of white wool roving and empty white cotton stitches, thanks to the diligence of a moth or a moth army.  The photo shows it after I had removed all the stitches and the tiny bit of remaining wool, very carefully lifting the white fragments from the black linen:

Beneath the cloud, there were little streamers of couched floss representing streaming rain.  The moths had sampled one, which meant they needed to be removed, as well.

But how to fix all of this?

First, I added tiny 15˚ silver seed beads to the starry sky, attaching the fabric more firmly to the ground.  I also stitched around the several layers of appliqué (invisibly, using a beading needle), which further held the center portion in place.  I will admit to taking a long time at this while I handled the piece and tried to re-familiarize myself with the fabric and the stitching problems there.  As I discovered, those problems were legion.

Foremost was the need to re-design the unfortunate main-course cloud.  I decided on satin stitches, which required a smooth surface— the pink striped background was anything but smooth.  So I had to think of a way to even out the bumps in the fabric before I could re-stitch the cloud.

After some thought and a cup of tea, I decided that the best thing to do was to slit the back of the ground fabric in two places and remove some of the heavy-weight cotton that defined the stripes.  Bringing myself to take embroidery scissors to the back of this piece took a great exercise of my powers of persuasion.  I talked to myself the entire time, giving myself instructions and praise as the scissors snipped the fragile threads holding everything together.  Once I had removed them (you can see how fat the yarn was in the picture, below, upper right), I had to slip a piece of soft linen between the black linen where the scene was originally embroidered and the backing fabric.  I then replaced the fat strips of yarn with smaller yarn (I used a cotton/linen yarn) and did a rough job of re-weaving the openings.

The resulting embroidery is this— a lavender and magenta cloud with streamers of new metallic-thread rain (hoping both threads are not tasty to a moth):

Below is a picture of the restored embroidery— this took two days of quite intensive work!  You can see in the stars and the "comet" were the beads were added, and the cloud and streamers of rain are replaced, on the right.

Below is a closer look at the stream that springs from the base of the mountain— flower thread with wooden beads attached!

It was too beautiful to not repair and restore it.  I will take this to the framers for mounting in the next few weeks.  I almost hate to put it behind glass, it is so beautiful to touch!

Poor little piece!  But "A Child's World" has been restored, finally.  I wonder if The Adorables will enjoy it?

ATCs and Buttonhole Stitches

I have a "collection" of new ATCs.  First, maybe I should define "collection."  When I was a little girl, one item made a collection.  By my mid-twenties, it had to be three of something to rate the collection title.  Today, it has to be so many of something that it becomes a serious impediment to progress, either in walking across a room or in visually sweeping a work table— at which point I start questioning whether there is room in a down-sized life for a collection of anything anymore.

I will call this stitched group a series rather than a collection, though.  Next month at Freestyle in Knoxville, I am to do a small study on Buttonhole Stitch variations, and I did some serious head-scratching to think of new ways to present old material.  I have stacks and stacks of Buttonhole Stitch samplers already (it is, after all, the beauty and variety of the stitch that interests me, not their application in serious work!).  So, I chose to make my illustration sampler in pieces rather than to stitch a new single cloth.  Then, one for each of my friends, and I can be excused from the charge of over-collecting!

In addition, I have used my hand-carved stamps to provide a little background chatter for the pieces.  Solid fabric can be boring.  On the other hand, fabric that is too decorative shouts above the stitching.  So, the pale-ink stamps seem to work well in that middle ground for me.

Following are some of the Buttonhole Stitch ATCs.  The stitch is beyond versatile, so completely flexible and offering arms and legs that can flail out or be tucked in, even laid over and under one another-- what a delightful group of stitches to play with!

First are some Buttonhole Cousins at Play:  Sitting on Church Pews.    This is about as straight as I ever want to get with lines of stitches.

The next ones are the Buttonhole Cousins truly at play--the ones from the Church Pews, but now that they've been excused, they are cavorting in the sunlight!

One of my favorite ways to use Buttonhole Stitches is to create double lines, with only a tiny space between them.

They undulate beautifully:

The stitch works nicely as an appliqué edge, below holding the painted and stamped cotton in place against the silk ground.  And the pockets in the stitch make wonderful places to slip little beads, just for sparkle!

Here is a ruin (rather Roman, don't you think?) that irregularly stitched and interlinked lines have made:

Enjoy!  The Buttonhole stitch, paired with imagination and humor, is really fun.  No straight lines, please.  Give it a chance to dance, run, turn cartwheels . . .

More Stories from the Studio

I decided to make a post card to send to my sister.  She and I do this, periodically.  Hers are beautiful little gems, painted carefully, professional-looking, and engaging.  Mine are usually abstract, worked in layer after layer of paint and pencil and ink, the sort that make you scratch your head and turn the card several directions before settling into what must be the proper view.

I tried something different this time.  After laying down an autumn-flavored ground, I added some texture.  Linen.  Silk.  Cotton organza.  Even a piece of painted lace insertion.  When I walked around the corner of a table, I saw my little hole punch— the one that makes teeney weeney little holes.  The exact size I would need to push a needle and thread through . . .  hmmm . . .  And right beside that, the rubber stamps I've been carving the past few weeks.  Oh, heart be still!

The results are thus:

The first, a silk butterfly Jill sent over, which I found I could iron onto the watercolor postcard successfully (bless the inventor of heat-set bonding chemicals).  And the scraps of vintage linen that I'd dyed years ago matched the fall look of things. The cotton organza is on the right.  I stamped over it, and the texture is lovely!  (Note:  After I photographed the original, downloaded the photos, then onto the blog, I went back and added some stitching . . .  Sorry.  It's editing at its most obsessive, keeping at it until there is nothing more to add or subtract . . .?)

Next, I decided to add more mystery to the composition.  More things going on, more places for the eye to come to rest-- and, of course, the hole punch and the stitching on the left-side.  And a bit more texture than the first card.  Not sure if the leather blocks at top will make it through the postal service, though.  This one may get some more "editing" to keep the leather in place before it leaves the studio.

New idea altogether:  After the initial layer of color, this third card has some pieces of linen and cotton trapped under some very sheer silk organza that was bonded to the card.  Most of the designing was stamped or drawn into that piece of silk.  The silk takes the ink differently, barely mutes the back, and adds a gorgeous feel to the postcard.

Finally, a last fling with the color of falling leaves.  There are so many layers of work here that I would need a couple of  paragraphs to list them all.  The most fun is to continue working the branches outward, upward, curving down from the cut-off point of the stamp . . .  each tree is a little different from its neighbor that way.  This is a little Mark Chagall-ish

The next morning, I wanted to use blue.  Deep, rich, roll-around-in-it Blue.  First is the one I decided my sister would most relate to, since she spent the Labor Day weekend on the beach.  This is a view of tidewater pools as seen from above, but with the additional vantage point of a bright door standing upright (doors are always wonderful ways to enter into mysterious worlds).  I used a texture medium meant for water-based colors, mixed some pastels with the paints, and began laying down layers of color.  The door has been painted separately and glued on, then popped into a book press to smash the door cut-out into the paper card better.

Next is a more modest look at blue.  More tree stamping, extending the branches, drawing and painting and stamping over a lacy Japanese tissue paper (is is called endru, perhaps?) . . .

I'm not sure which is my favorite, but the process was exhilarating.  And the stories that could be told from the mysteries in the cards ... ooo, la la!

ATC Roundup

It's time I photographed some of the ATCs I've been working on.  The Freestylers are having a card swap on the 12th, and I thought I'd incorporate some different techniques in a few of them and join the swapping fun.  Some cards are older, though none quite elderly.  These are simply images I enjoyed developing during this past year.

Enjoy!

The one above is made from polka dot fabric and a check fabric, which I cut apart to make the stripes.  The blue is a batik.

Below is called "Summer's Long Exit," which is how I think of the dragging Indian Summer each year.  Almost unending.  The hatch marks at bottom is a Stef Francis thread variable thickness as you sew.  A dream to work with!

Next is what was actually an exercise in straight stitching different weights and types of yarn.  I would like to say "running stitch," but most of these threads were too fat (perles) or too stiff (linen). It is so much nicer than looking at perfectly horizontal or vertical lines of stitching, isn't it?

  

For Bethy, one day, when she is interested in learning to sew.  How much fun it will be to show her how to lay down scraps of fabrics and add these lovely embellishments!

Here is an ATC that is actually a bit old (but not elderly, please; a touchy subject lately).  A combination of paper, linen fabric, cotton perle, machine-made trim, perle buttons . . .

If the day has been stressful or tedious, it is good to go into the studio and pull out the tiniest of scraps and lay them out until I have a design I like.  Not a big piece.  Small.  Manageable.  The way my life can forget to be, sometimes.

Another not-so-new.  I tried to make a pair of these, but I don't think I made it to the second piece.  The lovely background fabric in center was the inspiration for this travel commentary:

An experiment from many years ago, I found the fabric I had made through several processes, ending with these postage stamps ironed onto a fabric that had been used as a protective covering for my ironing board when I was painting and printing fabrics (including dying scrim, stretching it over the muslin and ironing it dry so the color and pattern transferred over something already stained with other colors).  The textural effect is strong here:

This is a celebration piece.  I hear a brass band, chinking glasses, happy voices, all under afternoon sun.  Helen, GA during Oktoberfest, maybe?

A leaf, made this time last year.  A great deal of layering and machine felting here, silk organza and some funky fabrics underneath it, with machine stitched details.  Only a small amount of hand-stitching becaue it was very thick with layers of bonding and felt and funky fabric:

Another fabric that I discovered while cleaning and moving things.  An abstract day dream.  Something not a bit concerned with reality, time of day, or appointments to be kept— a sort of Paul Klee morning:

A pome fruit.  With some layering in right hand corner, couching, beads . . .  I'm a little hazy on the details here.  I think the shape of the bright green fabric suggested the direction more than a well-formed idea of representation.  Unfortunately, I get started on an idea, gone into the Zone, and then I lose all sense of where, why, and even the point of ending:

Stamped fabric below.  I carved the stamp from a sheet of soft rubber, bonded the fabric to a pellon interfacing, and stitched the green image in complementary red. It has suggestions of the garden.  Unstitched, as a negative print, it is still interesting.  This is a good stamp to play with, perhaps to block portions of it and do some side-by-side printing . . .

Fabric painted five or more years ago, later made into a rectangular quilt block but recently I cut the block apart into  several ATCs, each of them with different sections of that red-black painted original fabric.  Here I've added two stamped images on right in the reddish portion, and because the images were faint and not complete circles, I worked the shapes by stitching (brokenly) the rough circles there.  Then I added the hatching marks in red over the black parts.

Only hatching marks added to the painted fabric and little corner of red linen that had been satin-stitched on by machine:

Flags flying, end of summer is approaching.  I hate to be so eager for time to pass, but I am a little ready for cooler weather!  On a fabric that could have been a summer postcard, interrupted by the curve of the sandy beach . . . ? Really?

The last piece is something I could not put down, that I kept stitching, adding buttons, just one more stitch, one more knot, one more something somewhere!  It could have been twice, three times the 2 1/2" x 3 1/2" of the original, and this idea would have been soooooo much fun to continue to develop!

In fact, I think I'll keep it as inspiration for something a little larger later on.  So many ideas, so little time!