Hello, 2013!

First of all, I must learn to use the “3″ key when I type the date.  Next, I must get my studio in order so I can enjoy the space.  In May, I will have friends visiting, and if I start working now, this very instant, I have a chance of Studio 508 being an orderly place to visit.

The Adorables share the space.  Near the door, beside the drafting table, Bethy uses the small desk my son used as a child, which was the desk I and my sisters used when we were little girls.  She is so tall that, at six, she has to scrunch up to get her legs under it, so I am thinking about a change in the studio to accommodate this legginess.  Ethan, however, is not one to sit at a desk.  The floor is his realm, and I try to keep a space large enough for him to pull out long sheets of paper and devise race courses for his vehicles.  And for me?  Tables and bookcases and a wonderful drafting table by the window.

My only resolution for 2013 is to get in touch with my Inner Bohemian.  The first step in this project of discovery was a lovely session of curtain-making for Studio 508.  The five tall windows at front have half-curtains to keep out the winter sun, which can be fierce, as the orientation is to the south.  This, despite the trees.  Now, every window is covered differently.  I could not be happier!  I’ve re-claimed some vintage linens for three hangings, used some rather funky fabric for the others.  The two small windows overlooking the garden to the side are also covered now (the scrim I originally used was no match for the outpouring of western sunlight), though the door is still bare.  As it is metal, I need to use a magnetized rod, or set of rods.  This problem-solving is for another time.
I am in the process of completely re-arranging the tables, so my embroidery table will be on the opposite side of the room this year.  The occasional shake-up is good for the soul— it makes me see things differently, respond to the change in light, make less automatic motions and more deliberate choices.

The distance between the kitchen door and the studio is a (grey) twenty-six steps, now, but in a few months it will be a journey of thirty, forty, maybe more steps, because there will be so much to examine with the coming bulbs and perennials (and sun).  The walk between the two buildings was a dense pink line of begonias last year, but I am going to think seriously about a permanent planting this year, something so that my Head Gardener does not have to get down and dig anew for me every spring.  The constant recreating the wheel becomes more difficult as we age.

So many plans come to mind in those twenty six steps each day!

But for now, I am in grubbies and headed out to re-organize and re-shape the working spaces in my home away from home.  This will take a long, interesting time because I see something and suddenly sit down and read or add stitches or look for that small piece of fabric I remember putting somewhere last month.  And a package arrived yesterday from Fiber On A Whim yesterday that I will have to play with just a little little bit before I begin to move the thread boxes.  Charles looks at me sometimes and wonders why there is always a project brewing, but I believe it is the projects that keep me moving and glad to wake up each morning.
Good Stitching, friends!

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.