Hunting for Rubbing Plates: When You’re Desperate You Make Your Own

September 28, 2025 | ellenanneeddy

I’ve been in love with oil paint stick rubbing for some tine. The ritchness of the patterns and colors adds a fabulous dimension to my art.

IT’s not for every quilt. It’s not for every image. But when it’s right it’s magical.

My first usages for them were little quilts, experiments more than anything. To my surprise, they have been popular. People have bought them and been pleased to have a small quilt at a more accessible price. I’ve continued to make them.

They’ve crept into my larger work as well. I found I could use plastic ceiling tiles as rubbing plates,

What am I missing?: Rain, frogs, birds, grass, pebbles, water reflections, clouds, sea weeds, and who knows what else.

It’s limited. There are some fabulous rubbing plates, but they are finite. No one seems to making new ones. And as a phase in the quilt world, it seems to have come and gone.

But that’s the thing about phases. If they have a glory of their own, then perhaps they shouldn’t go. I keep wanting more images. At a certain point, it has to come from somewhere else.

I’ve tried desperately to make my own.

This has been a quest for a while. I tried making plates on a CNC. As it is, it’s past my ablity. If anyone is willing to help me learn, I would bless you. I do think it’ s a possible answer. I’m not currently able.

I’ve tried block cutting erasers. Words fail me. Not my skill. I’m willing to do something badly to do it well, but not that badly.

I’ve tried piping modelling paste, with limited success. You can pipe modeling paste through a piping bag like frosting. I can too, but mine is lumpy and weird, even if I smooth it out with a brush.

If it’s too hard, too long or too miserable, you have the wrong tool.

I saw someone stencil with modeling paste. They weren’t making a rubbing plate of it They were building a raised image. . But I sure could. The number of available stencils appears to be endless. I still wish I could make my own designs work.

Here’s my first efforts. The colors are irrelavent. They’re whatever acrylic paint I had. I do think it’s helpful to use a color because you can see your raised surface better and correct it easier if needed.

I’ll be exploring this for a while in the next couple of blogs. Next week, how to make the plates.

Is This Off Color? Other People’s Perceptions

September 21, 2025 | ellenanneeddy

I spent last week working on three cranes. I was fairly pleased with myself, when someone asked, “Are these cranes having sex?

I hadn’t seen it. I still kind of don’t. I looked up a picture of cranes in love, and it didn’t quite look that quiet. But I have my head in my hands trying to figure out what I do next.

I was inspired by a Japanese textile design in a Dover Pictorial Archive book. I’m pretty sure they didn’t see it as cranes in love. It was my own rendering of it, changed in the way we change everything we draw ourselves.

Usually I let people tell me anything about my art. If it comes from them, it’s theirs. I don’t mess with that. I meant what I meant. I’m not responsible for their response.

But this hits me in a place that makes me feel very vulnerable. Sex is about bodies and bodies are about vulnerability. Art is about visual vulnerability. I’m not really secure about body image. I work in animal imagery since I can’t bear to work in human flesh. I have a delicate detent with my body, somewhat riddled by the failures of old age and memories of high school.

It’s a response to really old tapes. I wasn’t just fat. I was born deformed. Admittedly, it was a small genetic oops. But my mother could build a tragedy out a broken nail.

IF you are harmed enough, people can frame you as being inhuman. If you are harmed deeply enough, you may even think that’s true. If other people think it’s true, they can do anything to you because you aren’t a human being. That was my whole childhood. It seems to be going around globally right now.

I’m not taking this anywhere except in my own life. And I don’t want anyone to explain situations where it is somehow ok. Or tell me to get over it. I don’t believe we get to dehumanize people.

The bottom line is that I’m terrified of naked vulnerability. My animals are me in some way. I’ve come to see my self through Don’s eyes and his vision is kinder than my memories. I usually let that stand. I’m not sure I can be a crane in love on a quilt.

I took the time to reoutline the birds. It usually makes things clearer. Maybe this time that’s not such a good idea.

So what do I do with a quilt with cranes possibly delecto inflagrante? Do I finish it? Put a bunch of cat tails around them? Do I stuff it in a drawer until I feel more brave? I tend to not just throw work out, even if I don’t like it. I could put a lower price on it, and it either sells or it doesn’t. That assumes I can bear to finish it. There’s a dark corner in the closet, perfect for storage.

So what do you think? Would you finish it? Show it? Put a fig leaf on it? What?

Less Is Less: Color Choices for Smaller Images

September 14, 2025 | ellenanneeddy

I’ve whined a bit about larger work this month, mostly because I had 6 full sized pieces to finish. Not fun. But all but one is done.

So in response to that, and in giving myself a break, I decided to do something smaller. These Japanese cranes have been on my mind for a wile. Originally they were on a textile.

People talk about making a smaller version of something and then blowing it up. I’ve never found that works. The size changes what you can do with your stitchery.

When I work large, my thread color choices have to fill in a space. It’s a larger space. I do have a formula for that. And a basic color strategy.

I work dark to light.
The color of my background is the light within the piece. So that color has to be part of the choices.
Everything is accentuated. I choose my colors to be more intense than the overall effect I want
Your eye will mix the colors. Even if they don’t seem to go together. Don’t be afraid.

I choose

A dark tone of my desired color.
A shader, usually either purple, brown, dark green or blue.Often I’ll use a complement from my desired color
Several shades of th chosen color.. They can differ in tone and clarity, but they need to be lined up dark to light.
A shocker. Usually the complement in a bright form
A light color that is the color of the piece.
The lightest color. Usually lighter than you want the piece to be as a highlight.

That fills in a lot of space.. It needs to. It allows for some intense coloration.

Smaller work is smaller space. No help for it. The stitching isn’t as intense and you end up with a much small space to fill in. So your choices pull in.

For your thread choices you’ll want.

The darkest tone of your color
A toner, complement, brown, blue, or purple
A mid color
Maybe a shocker
A light color
May be a highlight color

It’s the same theory, but it’s stepped down for smaller spaces. I don’t like to work that way because it makes wild choices feel more intense. It abstracts very quickly

So I worked on these cranes this week. They’re white, but I worked up to that with a lot of soft toned pastels and greys. I was completely worn out on them until I slipped in a bit of turquoise.

I’m not wildly unhappy with this, but I feel limited by it

.The joke is that the ended up fitting into a yard of hand dye, the size I most often use for large quilts.

I don’t often do this, but I have a pervasive urge to redraw the image bigger, and go wild with the colors, just to see what I get.

It’s always good to change things in your work. Any change is a challenge. Chainge the size, change your pallet, change your subject, and certainly at the right moment, change your undies. Change is good.

Tackling the Task: Where Are My Big Girl Panties?

September 6, 2025September 7, 2025 | ellenanneeddy

I’ve been prepping for a show proposal for weeks now. While I was working through my machine woes, I couldn’t back and bind the larger quilts. Now that I have a functional 930, I could accomplish that.

Two years ago, I started this heron piece. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s a heron drawing I found in my files. It was lovely. So I embroidered it and fit it into a quilt.

But it’s large. The word large is inadequate. It’s roughly 59″ x 59″ It’s larger than I’m tall.

Embroidering it wasn’t’ the problem. But after you add a back and a layer of felt, you have a lump. A very large lump.

So it sat the corner. And I became afraid of it. I made a myth of it. It was too large. It wouldn’t fit through the machine. My arms aren’t as strong as they used to be.

I had a friend ask if I could make it work if I cut it up in some way. That shook me loose. It wasn’t a bad quilt, or even a failed quilt. It was just too big. And I was being a coward.

After that I went hunting my big girl panties.

All of those things are true. It’s too large, it did not fit prettily into the machine. I had to jam it under the machine head. And my arms may be less strong, but my will..? Never doubt my will. No one can tell me no but me.

There’s no can’t like won’t, Sometimes we build myths about our work. “It’s so good.” “It’s no good.” “It will never lie flat” Almost all of that is irrelevant. I won’t know i it’s good for some while after I finish it. I need to stop the negativity and just step into the task. It was backed, quilted and bound in 3 days.

Here’s the details on Great Blue