Black Floss on Cotton

I embarked on an enormous journey of discovery and endurance with this piece, never thinking I would actually stitch the entirety of the 10" x 18" cloth.  My style is to make smaller, more intimate pieces.  After I had gotten bored, I reasoned, I would remove the piece from the frame, cut the work away and fold what was left of the multi-processed cloth and move on to something else.  To this end, I set out to try some different ways of doing a few things with simple, expressive stitches.  Instead of becoming bored, the challenge became so absorbing I couldn't put it down, and I worked weeks and weeks with the magic that was happening on the rectangle.

It is a study in lines, and to that end I used a single strand of black cotton floss.  I wanted to see how much energy short, dotted lines might have.  And then there was the idea of bending a longer line by keeping it under tension rather than Couching the slack thread with two needles.  Or, what if the circles were stitched as loose Detached Chains and tied down to make rough circles of many sizes and shapes?  Is it possible to get a certain depth of perception with a tiny Straight Stitch by changing the compression, working dense stitches that graduated to a little more breathing space?  Could I really do this without using even one of my favorite little spot stitches, the French Knot?  Is there personality possible in a Square Chain Stitch?  And on and on it went, more questions, more answers.

If you've ever seen geology texts where the artist has drawn beautiful illustrations of earth strata, subducting plates, layers of sediment under pressure, conglomerate rocks-- this is where the idea started, buried in my twin loves of earth science and pen and ink drawings.  My husband sees an aerial landscape here.  It is hard to say which explanation I prefer, but in the end, the piece speaks in a different language to every viewer.

A word about the fabric:  This is a soft, loosely woven cotton.  I rusted it, washed it, buried it in the garden for a week, dug it up and washed it again and decided it would do as a mop-up cloth for a painting session.  The color in the lower part of the piece is from spilled dyes and cleaned paint brushes.  More washing.  Nothing was planned, and when I last washed it I thought it might make a good lining cloth for other projects.  I've used several smaller cuts from the cloth in stitched pieces over the past several years.

This thin, loose cotton is lined with four layers of linen, including worn napkins and a piece of linen left over from dress-making eons ago (how's that for responsible re-use of materials?).  The back of the work is almost as interesting as the front-- there are times I can't decide which side to show and which to put against the wall!

Starry Night

This is a little piece that wouldn't stay within the 4" square I meant for it.  It is an example of my starting something that simply had a mind of its own, and then hanging on as it galloped  off in another direction.

The fabric is linen I dyed, and the threads are a mix of hand and commercially dyed cottons and silks.  A little white-painted bowl sat on the worktable with the brightly-colored skeins tumbled together as I stitched and planned and listened to the story the threads were chatting about as the lines and shapes unfolded under my fingers.  Working with intense colors is always quite stimulating, but to add to the mood of creativity I listened to the soundtrack of BFG as the stitching progressed.  How could anything stay sedate and perfectly mannerly with John Williams' delightful music filling the studio?

And that is how all of these little images came to dwell here: stars, even a little block of fallen stars, a blackberry "briar" patch, river road, tracks, foliage . . .  Ethan shares my passion for blue and green, so this will be my subject for our writing club meeting this afternoon.  The children write their stories, Grandmother stitches hers.  The children read their lovely written works, Grandmother tells hers and accepts the children's excited interruptions the way historians add footnotes to the body of their data.  What better way to spend the after-homework-is-done moments of an afternoon in the studio?

And yes, Beth Ralph, you are entirely right about the way the story should be matted and framed rather than stretched over a small wooden stretcher the way I usually do these pint-sized pieces.  Isn't Show 'N Tell the best part of FreeStyle?

Small Glimpse

Sometimes an idea and I wrestle together in the studio.  The wrestling takes many forms:  I carry the difficult piece to other places to see it in a different light; I will often try something that is absolutely wrong simply to get some movement on the idea; or in the end I take a deep breath and cut the piece apart.  

This ground was a large (remember who's writing here) woven piece built up from from strips of linen and silk.  Maybe the size of the original froze the blood in my fingers.  I don't know.  But when I cut the larger piece apart, there was instant understanding and new direction, even a bit of fun in adding more layers to the back of the ground for more stability.  The cutting resulted in a stack of 2" (approximately) squares.

From the change of direction came a glimpse of tree, water, and sun.  Just a glimpse.  It came on a day when I needed to have a pink and blue tree in my afternoon. 

Blue Wood

This from the winter-- the threads and I were chatting about how silly it was to always think of trees as grey or black and having green leaves . . .  It all depends on your operating location-- in or out of the box.

Spring Musings

An examination of spring colors, spring fragility-- these two pieces have surfaces of silk over layers of hand-dyed silks and linens.  

The first is on a firm ground of so many layers I lost count as it was being assembled.  The silk chiffon over the top of all was dyed, spottily so.  But it was the spottiness that gave the center pink area more interest.  The green danglies are there because it reminded me of the texture of the spring as it just comes into being.

Here is a different look at the spring.  The small piece is worked in hand on a very thin ground of (mostly) transparent silks and little snips of linen and a dyed lace.  The tree was made separately was slipped under the chiffon before being stitched in place.  A bit of hand-dyed linen defines the ground and left of the landscape, but the tree itself still dominates the scene because of the full bushiness of its branches and foliage, even covered.  The beads are trying to tame everything, but you know how difficult it can be to tame a spring day.  Held up to the light, it changes character, in that mysterious way light has of transforming colors. 

Topographies of the Mind

I had an idea about stitches suspended above a surface, and to this end I experimented with a block of wood, nails, wire of different gauges, strips of cloth, yarn of various sizes, a woven ribbon of some stiff, natural fiber, and a couple of tubes of blue and white acrylic paint.

The block of wood was a scrap of 2" x 6" lumber, painted in layers of blue, slightly distressed-looking.  When it was dry, I planned paths across the surface and  began to nail into it.  With the nails in place, I used different materials, including picture hanging wire, to begin wrapping and stitching the posts.  Before this, I would never have guessed that I could actually shape stitches with picture hanging wire.

The circular forms took shape as I connected the lines with stitch.  After the stitching was finished I hammered the nails further into the block.

The result is akin to a topographic map, some of the hills quite tall and broad, others lower, more like islands in a stream.

When the call for entries came in August or September for a mixed media international exhibit sponsored by EGA, I was still working on this piece in fits and starts, so I set other things aside and began working to finish it in earnest.  And two days ago, I got word that the piece had been accepted!

Now I have only to package and mail it to Louisville after the New Year for the photographing and set-up.  The show runs between February 3 and July 15 of 2016.

Which is by way of saying that you just never know where curiosity will lead you, or what odd materials you might find for making stitches.  Mixed Media, in the words (or near words) of Jean Littlejohn, is anything you want it to be.

Water's Edge

This watercolor on canvas is combined with machine and hand stitch, appliqué, beads, stones, and a variety of very textured yarn.  It is a look at the little bit of marsh and sea we enjoy in a family trip to the coast of Georgia every spring.

The views of the canvas from the side are interesting, too.  The trip starts at the edge of the wall and turns the corner to the front of the canvas . . .

then continues on the right side-- as if the water's edge was too lovely to leave:

Update on Three Red Trees

At the prodding of my friend, Peggy, I submitted this piece to the EGA for consideration in their upcoming "Spectacular Color" Exhibit.  And, guess what-- they accepted it!

I'm still wowed by that.  There were entrants from EGA affiliates in four different countries, so there must have been a lot of vibrant pieces sent to New Mexico for adjudication.  Twenty-five were chosen for the show opening August 1 of this year and running until the end of January of next year.

Wow!

Three red trees

At the outset I must confess:  I do not like orange.

This landscape is built on a piece of nuno felt that has been stitched, unstitched, had portions of needle felted velvet unceremoniously ripped away, cut into two pieces and re-felted . . . All in an effort to make friends with the color orange. The green was a diversion, a way of using, by way of yellow, the complimentary blue of orange and the green of red to soften and tame the orange, with stitches in soft, chubby matte cottons and variegated silk flosses.  The two green trees stand by in wonder, gossiping about the entire process. They refuse to acknowledge their own painted silk cocoon origins.

To be further confessional:  Orange and I may no longer be enemies, but we are not exactly sitting down to tea and biscuits together.  Yet.

The final size is approximately 7” x 8”, and the framing is a bit of a puzzle.  I will keep this pinned to a board in the studio until lightning strikes with a grand idea.  Or, maybe I’ll ask Jordan to choose the framing for me!

Blue Meadow

The cottage commands a sweeping view of hand-tinted vintage lace, bead and button flowers, and a curious blue and yellow-green river flowing beneath all. A blue orchard bearing vintage silver Japanese seed beads shares the horizon with the red-roof cottage I have always imagined to be the home of my Irish great-grandfather. This little story and its bright colors are set in a 6 1/2” rusticated wooden tray.  I don’t know how I could manage the stresses of life without my drawers of vintage laces and trims, so using them in this little piece was therapeutic.

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.