Ethan's felted piece!

I could not publish this picture before Christmas because Ethan made this as a gift for his parents, but I can share this now.  Ethan finished his first machine felted landscape last month.  He was six years old.  He had asked repeatedly, always very politely, to be taught how to use "that machine" (always accompanied by a nod in the direction of the Embellisher), and finally, in October I listened to him explain his plan for how he would learn.  He had worked out a formula for learning!  The lovely part of working with Ethan is that he never forgets anything.  I think of his animal symbol as the elephant.  He is shown something once, and that becomes The Way.

We began to talk about felt tops and how the fibers interlock, how a felting needle is different from a sewing needle, then decided on a six inch square for our layout.  I cut out a piece of dyed scrim for him and as he began reaching for his favorite colors I was reminded of James Taylor singing, "Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose."   After making his choices of color and placement, I sat beside him, heart in throat, as he began to apply pressure to the foot pedal and use those small fingers to move through the felting process.  He had watched me do this for several years, and I suppose, with that incredible memory of his, he had been storing up information for this moment.  In all the time we spent on this, he did not break a needle-- which is a much better track record than my own!

Next, to add little chopped bits of wool thread for grass, some shaping of the tree and ponds, and after that the stitches.  Not any blue would do on the pond-- it had to be shiny silk, "to reflect the light," he explained very patiently. He chose sari silk metallic thread and bright green crewel wool for the tree foliage, with little bits of the green blowing across the soft wool base.

We worked on this in stages for several weeks.  On the days he stayed with us after school, he would have his snack, do his homework and then we would come to the studio until Julie came to pick them up.  He was very concerned that she not see it, and she so kindly complied with his wishes.

The most heart-melting moment was not to see the little piece finished, however, but to hear him say, "I can't believe I'm really making this piece, Grandma!"  The sad part came when I suggested he take it to share with his class when he was finished, but he quickly said no.  His mother told me, later, that he was afraid of the other boys making fun of him.  How can it be that a first grader can be bullied by his "friends" for his talent and perseverance?

This piece reveals a creative, imaginative side to Ethan that is very unlike the methodical, mathematics-oriented thinking he usually exhibits.  He helps Bethy with her third-grade multiplication tables and adds and subtracts faster than she, and he enjoys working out people's ages from the year they were born.  So glad he and I had these hours together to make this discovery.  Our next felting may be to incorporate wet felting into the process . . . Updates as this happens.

Etsy Store

How this came about:  On the Friday after Thanksgiving as I was walking down the hall to the bedrooms, my foot made a terrible and very loud popping noise.  The doctor said it was "probably" a stress fracture, but we wouldn't know until the 22nd when he re-X-rays the mess that is my foot.  In the meantime, my new best friend is The Big Black Boot, knee-high and serious business.

BFF and I have been sitting still a lot since then, and it finally occurred to me that  I've been meaning to open an Etsy Store for years, and now might just be the time.  Today, when I put some thread in the store, I believe I became an Etsy shop keeper and am up and running.

The thread, which is cotton cone thread that weavers use for making soft wearables and household items, became my go-to thread for texture a number of years ago.  It is soft with a small amount of texture to it, and a perfect size for beefing up lines or mixing with other threads in textural work.  I looked at my yarn cabinet one day and realized I could never never in this lifetime use it all up, so I am winding it into 30 yard skeins and seeing if other stitchers like it as much as I.

There are also boxes of stitched work that will gradually move onto the shop walls, but that takes time and a certain amount of mobility to gather all the parts in one place to mount the pieces.  Later.

In the meantime, check out Studio508 on Etsy, if you are shopping there.  The Studio508 shop will probably change a good bit as I move things around in the studio here in Woodstock.  For right now, though, studio changes will have to wait on healing.  I have a good bit of hand-painted fabric that might be nice in the studio, though . . .  Hurry up, foot!  We've got work to do!

*****UPDATE*****  It is, indeed, a fractured heel, and I have been given stern instructions about staying off the foot.  This is the time to practice deep breathing, mindfulness, and to work in my sketchbook(s), a time of ingathering for later work.

Best wishes for the Holidays, be well, and to all my fiber friends, happy stitching!

Reclaimed Silk Sari Ribbon

Reclaimed materials are always interesting to work with.  Silk Sari Ribbon is on the top of my list of these re-usables.  The strips are sometimes too wide to stitch with "as is," but most silks tear/rip very easily, and I can make several narrow strips of silk for stitching from a single length of the ribbon that comes in skeins for knit and crochet.

This example above is from a sample for a study of mosses that is part of a larger project (more to come on this over the next year, I hope).  Here you can see the grey and yellow silk ribbons couched in place, then surrounded by loopy, textured stitches in a variety of fibers.  Is it apparent that I am not too fussed by the restrictions of realistic color?

This next piece has been stitched on a ground of hand-made felt to make an impression of wind sweeping through the branches of a potted plant.  The heavier leaves are stitched with torn strips of ribbon, with mixed wool and silk threads used break up the blue with some scattered, less-solid leaf images.

 Silk, wool, and a little cotton scrim for good measure . . . It takes so little to pacify some folks!

Moss On Tree

This 6" square is my interpretation of moss growing on a tree, at v-e-r-y close range.  Stitched mostly in Walsh silk/wool yarn on a piece of hand-felted wool from dyed roving and scrim, it is layers of wool, silk, linen, and cotton, with tiny beads tucked in between the seeding stitches.

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:

Blue Bulb

"Blue Bulb" is a layered work with a great deal of texture in the hand-painted scrim, the scattered seed stitches, and the little roots that dangle just off the bottom of the canvas.

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!

May 2014

Container Gardening this year:  Vegetables.

Why?  Just to see what it's like to grow and eat my dinner.

Will I miss the flowers I usually grow here?  Yes.

Regrets?  Not yet.

Mystery of the cloth, No. 1

Layers of meaning, giblets felted into a layer of roving and scrim and almost obscured, then stitching over and beside those marks, more felting, more stitching– the cloth becomes a palimpsest of present and former marks.

Part of a series of experiments with mark-making on different fabrics.

Winter Tree

We recently had a very rough winter here.  There are some who live further north who would shake their head and say, “If you think YOU had a rough winter . . .”  But, it’s all relative.  I sat stitching this as the brown and grey of winter gradually gave way to washes of white from the the blast of snow and ice.  The wind rattled up the hill as I reached for another lap rug and the ball of silk to re-thread and stitch on.

The fabric ground is a simple sandwich of scrim and wool, over which I have used only the humble straight stitch.  Threads were cottons, mostly flosses, but for the tree I used a three-strand, slightly nubby silk from my friend, Jill, and together the silk and I followed the tree’s plight through the wind and weather.  It made a gentle fabric with a draping hand.

The finished size is about 7 1/2 x 11 inches.

Conversation by brook

My favorite ground for stitching is made of layers of soft fabric.  To this end I save scraps of every fabric that comes into the studio, no matter the color or fiber content.  Pale pieces can be painted or tinted, frayed or re-woven, and silk or organza act as slight masking agents to push too-forward colors back a notch.  I don’t remember ever meeting a natural-fiber fabric I couldn’t warm up to.

So when I began building the layers of fabric that eventually became this piece, I was looking for texture and shape more than color.  I used fabric paints and dyes to get the colors I needed.  After hand basting the small pieces and machine stitching the edges, the surface stitching was done in silks of floss and perle.

The conversation is an interrupted one, just as the work was not accomplished in a straight line.  Here, Art Imitates Life.

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.

March 28, 2014

I can either follow my creative interests in a happy, messy sort of way, or I can bring everything to a halt and write about it.  I don’t seem to do both simultaneously either well or even happily.  My son FB’d today that I should keep my blog up to date. 

O.K., Jordan, this re-start is for you!

Love, Mom

P.S. Happy Birthday!

Almost back in the saddle

What a spring and summer I’ve had! Everything came to a halt in May with hip replacement surgery, rehab, and a desperate effort to avoid a knee replacement. The walking progression has been from walker to four-prong cane to normal-everyday cane, and an occasional short distance walk without the cane, something I rue almost immediately, but keep working on to be independent again.

However, the distance to the studio, which is my measure of success, is down from thirty-two steps to twenty-eight on a good day. Once there, I can work a bit.
While not exactly back in the saddle, I am getting there. I’ve examined my body to see how many more joint replacement possibilities exist. Too many, by last count!

People who need people . . .

The Studio has been turned around, and I love the new, less segmented look to my space. Of course, I still reach for something that is in a new place, but eventually I should be reaching in the proper direction and finding the thread or fabric I need.
 
Lately (since November, actually) I have been umbilically tied to my sketchbook.  I feel as though so many ideas, both good and bad, simply disappear if I don’t scribble a little jotting about them, so I’ve started making notes, a quick sketch, a title of a book to check out— anything that will keep that idea from zipping over the hill and into the black hole where uncharted waters are thick with misplaced thoughts.  Some are good.  Some not so good.  But the simple act of shaping the letters on a page makes remembering easier, a bit like writing , “I will be a good girl and mind my mother” a hundred times . . .

I digress.

In all the moving things about, I have misplaced a sampler I need for a point of reference. This has brought everything to a halt as I start my search.  While I normally enjoy the solitude of the studio, I really would like to have “people”-- the way the business world says, “I’ll have my people call your people and pencil in lunch on Wednesday.”  I wish I could say to my (imaginary) “people,” “I need the Straight Stitch sampler worked in reds and hot pinks on white linen,” then go make a cup of tea while these imaginary “people” seek and find.  Or, a well-trained hound might do, if pooch only had opposable thumbs and wouldn’t slobber on the linen when he picked it up . . .

I really need another cup of tea, don’t I?

Stay warm today.  Good Stitching.

Uber Texture

Here is my sampler of Extreme Texture in Buttonhole Stitch.



There is a marvelous collection of non-traditional thread in my studio.  Much from weaving, crochet, and some just because they are wonderful to touch.   I set out to see what could be stitched with reasonable ease, and I found that almost anything can be used for high-textural interest.  The “ease” part is colored by how the world is treating me on the day of stitching.

I gathered an assortment of these non-traditional beauties and sampled them for textural possibilities.  The fibers included nettle yarn, linen, hand-spun silk (really rough and slubbed), reclaimed sari silk ribbon and sari silk yarn, hemp, banana fiber, some Habu chenille and a stiff, thin silk, silk paper thread, raw silk, finely drawn and flattened silk,  cottons fat and skinny . . .  . . . the list is a long and fun one.

I chose to use Buttonhole Stitch because it is an open loop that does not make multiple passes through a single hole in the fabric the way a traditional Chain Stitch does, and it can be enlarged or shrunk down, overlapped or stitched in a single line.  In all these variations, it retains its character.  Most importantly, it accommodates a large range of fibers.

I found a number of the yarns at Darn Good Yarn, a shop that is pure eye candy for unusual yarns.  Others I have picked up as Charles and I travelled, some are from like-minded friends.  In a small moleskin sketchbook I placed samples of the fibers and made notes on the stitching.  Between the sampler and the notebook I have as complete a reference as I could make from the stitching, and there is a small amount of space left at the bottom of the fabric so I can continue to scan the horizon for more candidate threads.

What fun this was!

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.