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!