design

Good Bones: Rocks To Water

| ellenanneeddy
923-21 In the Reeds 2

Building something with dimension usually means it has a recognizable top and bottom. Design-wise, I believe you should be able to flip a piece on any side and have the design still move and work. But it loses a great deal of credibility if you have upside-down fish. It’s not a good look.

Be that as it may, it helps to have a recognizable border between sky, land, and water. How can we make those obviously separate, without just putting a line across it?

There are several subtle ways and some pretty direct ways.

Dyed cotton thread in the sky, thick metallic in the water

The easiest subtle way is to change the kind of thread you are using to stipple. Not the color necessarily. The kind of thread.

Threads separate in how they’re made and how much they shine. Metallic threads usually shine more than poly or rayon, certainly much more than cotton. Sliver-like threads that are flat tinsel shine the most. Next, come the twisted metallics like Supertwist. Then there are the wound metallics like Superior metallics.

Now, if water is shinier than air, and air is shinier than earth, you can separate them out by having different threads stippling the piece. I usually use Sliver or #8 weight metallic threads for water, and Supertwist for sky, and/ or earth. If they shine differently, your eye will automatically sort them out as different.

# eight weight metallic threads in water

But the best way I know to establish earth is rocks. This is not subtle. It’s an in-your-face statement of land. A pile of rocks at the water’s edge defines the water/earth border immediately. Ad it’s so easy to do.

I cut rocks out of leftover hand dye. I pick anything that is rock color, always adjustable to the color of the background, and cut a whole lot of rocks for when I need them. They’re backed with Steam-a-Seam 2 so I can move them around at will until I iron them down.

Fishy Business is a mostly water quilt. But a pile of rocks in one corner establishes the bottom of the pond. I may have globs of thread and some water ferns later to create more movement. Now all I want to do is establish a baseline with the rocks and start getting the water to flow.

I’m using soft edge applique techniques for this. Soft edge has no visible stitching or edge to it. Neither water or rocks are improved by having a hard applique edge around them. Instead, I’ll go around the edges with monofilament nylon and a zigzag stitch. There’s more information on, this in Sun, Clouds Water and Rocks.

I cut some elongated c shapes to make water from. Both in blue and green for the water and yellow for reflected sunlight.

You can see the progression on this in these shots. I started with a corner pile of rocks to establish the bottom of the pond. Then I added in the water ripples made of sheers backed with Steam-a-Seam 2. Since each fish I put in the water changes where the water ought to be, I’ve added them one by one and adjusted the water around them. I added sunlit water shapes across the middle.

I’m pleased with this so far. Nothing is sewn down yet, so I’ll leave it up and look at it in case it needs adjustment.

Having a sticky fusible like Steam-a-Seam 2 lets me design this way. When I’m ready, I’ll commit and iron it down. It’s a very fishy business after all.

Under the Skin: Thoughts about Shading

| ellenanneeddy

We’ve talked a lot about shading. I’m fascinated with making animals that are dimensional, and shading is how we achieve that. Shading is about delineating light from dark. But it can be a rough moment when you start to shade. It can feel really overdramatic.

I was working on this goldfish for a quilt called Fishy Business and I was struck with how very shocking it could be to stitch in with the complementary color all over your image. Every time I do it I take a deep breath and tell myself I haven’t ruined it.

The last color you put on is your lasting impression. Everything else just peaks through. But those sneak peeks are so exciting that they make it all work. Your eye blends the colors so that they stay fresh and don’t brown each other out.

I remember in class once insisting that a woman making an orange/brown squirrel needed to put blue in her stitching. She was appalled. And I understand why. But it all sorts itself out after you come back in with your primary color. It also gives you color under the skin, just like blue veins color our peachy selves.

So here’s to the courage to add the color that really seems like it might be too much. Undershading builds the dimensionality and tone. It creates unbelievable color.

Another Fishy Story: Thoughts on Color Range

| ellenanneeddy

I’m working on another fish quilt. I’m not sure quite how these fish will go together, but I’m aiming for three different colorations out of the same color range.

I wanted gold fish. But good fish are not made of the same gold. Why? Well, seven fish all colored identically seems fishy to me. The nature of nature is variance.

So I pulled a range of colors that went through yellow greens and orange golds.

Coloration is about filling in space to a large degree. A large space accommodates a large range of colors. Usually colors are set with a base dark color, a shadow color, a range of progressively lighter colors, a shocker color and a lightest shade on top as a highlight. Except when it’s not. That works very well with large areas.

Fish have scales which usually aren’t that large. Usually there’s room for a base color, a shader, a center color, a shocker and then a highlight. This gets more limited as the fish get smaller.

For each of the small fish there’s a base color, a shader, the next brighter color, a softer shader and the next brightest color. I’m putting a shocker around the eye and in the bottom fins.

So I’ve done four fish in red/green, yellow/purple, orange/blue, and yellow orange/ purple, to explore the progressions on this. You’ll notice all the shaders are complements.

It’s a trick to have a number of elements in a quilt with different colors to match each other in tone. Since I’m choosing threads off the neon fluorescent chart, that kind of takes care of that.

There are three large fish, but I wanted to do several fish in the full range. Here are process shots on four of them.

Fish One

Fish Two

Fish Three

Fish Four

Notice what a difference in makes to outline them for the second time! The stitching inevitably creeps over the outline, so they need to be crisped up, sort of like fish sticks.

So here are the fish in process, small ones finished large ones left to go on the background. I worried about them feeling too different, but the range gives them variation without seeming like they don’t belong.

Part of why they all work together is that the color relationships are complements. That makes the color impacts similar.





























It Was Sitting On The Floor: Swept Up in the Left Overs

| ellenanneeddy

One of the nicest things about finishing up a bunch of quilts is the things left over. I tend to batch my embroideries. Not the big ones. One four foot heron is enough usually. But the little bits that go into a quilt are important, and I tend to make batches of them.

How does that work designwise? You place your big objects, and then you build a pathway of smaller objects around them. Hence the need for a lot of small objects.

I used to sew these directly onto the quilt surface, but they do tend to pucker up. So now adays, I sit down to a batch of things, use what works, and then raid my stash of leftovers to fill things in. I thought it would be fun to show how the same batch shows up in one quilt after another.

I also used to embroider exactly what I needed, well, when I could figure that out. It never quite worked that way. Did I need four frogs, or six or five? They do shrink in process so it’s hard to tell from the drawings.

So I over produce. I draw a whole bunch of whatever it is and then embroider them. They either land on the quilt in mind or they find their home somewhere else.

Sometimes, you just have to embroider the needed bits. These were what I needed to add to the big fish head.

1026-22 Swish

In between? Well, in my younger days, they went into suit cases when I traveled and wandered from one spot to another in the studio when I was home. So they tended most often, to be found on the floor.

Which is not to say that I didn’t understand their worth. I’m just not good at organization. I’m better now. I put them in bags in one place in the studio. Which is good because I raided those bags for these three quilts.

I had extra flowers, fish, frogs, and dragonflies. Can’t go wrong on that.

left over hummingbird drawing filled in

I also had extra drawings. Embroidered applique is a lost wax method, in a way. The pattern goes into the back of the piece and is incorporated in it. But patterns are hand drawn and a bit sketchy, so I tend to trace a smooth copy of them before I embroider. I had some great left over drawings of a frog, some fish and a hummingbird.

All in all, the pieces came together, after I got them off the floor into three new Visual Path quilts. I love left overs!

1029-22 Forest Floor detail 1

Seeing Right Through: Applique with Sheers

| ellenanneeddy
Splash! in process

I know it’s not supposed to be quilter’s fabric. Sorry. I can’t leave it alone. It’s too much fun to play with test tube babies. Over the years I’ve collected a special stash of laces, organzas, chiffons, brocades and just plain weird stuff.

It’s not anything I would piece. But no one would call me a piecer so that’s moot. But it’s wonderful for the things in this world that are, by nature transparent and/or translucent. I’ve talked earlier about finishing sheer edges with a soft edge finish, Sun Rocks, Wind, Water: Elements with Soft Edges.

But there are times you want that edge to show. Edging lace and sheer applique is a way of not only defining the edge of the applique but of controlling the color and controlling exactly how transparent it is.

I’m working on some moonflowers and some snow drops for a quilt called Splash. The quilt features a dark mostly blue background, and I wanted glowing white flowers for the background. Moonflowers are morning glories that bloom only at night. They’re perfect.

It’s also a way of lightening a darker quilt.

I used both lace and organza for my flowers. I do like them to have small differences, so they have their own individuality. Then I placed them with Steam a Seam 2 on a piece of white felt, with some green leaves. Why felt? It’s a spectacular stabilizer, with a layer of Stitch and Tear underneath. Why white? Because it’s all going to show. Whatever color felt I put under the lace will show through and define the color of the finished flowers. Organza will show through the most, lace less so, and Angelina fiber the least.

Knowing that is power. Felt comes in a full Crayola box of colors and it allows me an extra layer of shading in the process. The thread I use will also define the colors and shade things into darks and lights. Here’s a collection of flowers with different backing felt colors.

white over pail blue
angelina fiber
white over pale blue
white over pink
white over white
White on White
white over turquoise

I use a number of pastels as well as different whites to stitch the edges to give depth. As usual, it’s darker where the sun isn’t shining.

shading the flower

I stitched the flowers with a free motion zigzag. Here’s a little video showing how that works.

I did these moonflowers separately from the piece because they’re relatively large and would have distorted the surface. But for the smaller snowdrops, I applied them directly with Steam a Seam ad then stitched on them directly. The cool thing about this is that the background peeks through, like all translucent flowers. It’s a cool effect.

snowdrops directly on the fabric

And it’s a great reason to play with sparkle lace. There should always be a reason for sparkle lace!

Thermal Shock: Shocking Color Choices

| ellenanneeddy

One of the hardest things in embroidery work is to get over the match instinct. After years of perfectly matching thread to my project, I’ve had to learn to pick out the highest contrast threads to make an image that really shows up.

In embroidery, contrast is everything. If it all mushes together color-wise then you have a very mushy image indeed. Smooth color exchanges that are analogous and sit next to each other on the color wheel are pretty. But they don’t have much punch. So what you want is color that builds not on similarities but on differences. There are several kind of contrast: color, tone, clarity, and temperature.

Today we’re talking about color ,which is simply the hue. Is it red, blue, or yellow? Or an odd shade of green? It’s not a simple as it looks. There a million reds, blues and yellows and they are not the same.

Thermal shock is about the temperature of a color. Every color, no matter whether it is a cool or warm color, leans either towards having a cool or warm cast. It doesn’t matter if it’s a cool color or a warm color. There are cool yellows, there are hot blues. If all the colors are either cool or warm they’ll flow into each other like analogous colors. But if they’re not? You get thermal shock. Like standing in a cold water sprinkler on a steaming hot day. The effect is kind of visually electric.

Blue and Yellow Don’t Make Green is an excellent book discussing thermal variations and how that creates differing colors.

I wanted this fish to jump off the surface and I’d decided on yellow, to give it some definition from the floral like background. But I wanted it showy. So the colors I picked, cool orange, cool and warm yellows, cool and warm blues left it shimmery and gave it impact.



Of course it helps if you have shocking thread to begin with. This particular florescent is a Madeira polyester 40# called Poly Neon. Neon has a around 800 colors of every hue, but it has a select section that really is neon. I went through my collection of those threads and chose my shockers.

fish scales
Face
Tail

Each scale on this fish has a blue outer ridge, a purple, and 2 yellows. It’s been shaded in gradations to create the underside separately from the top.

The face and tail are a looser gradation that just shades from darkest/brightest to softer shades.

Here’s a video showing how that’s stitched.

I’ve written a lot about color because it matters to me. Building color in threadwork is done shade by shade, one color on top of another. The eye mixes those colors, which keeps them clear and crisp. But when the colors are fire and ice, prepare to be shocked!

Other blogs discussing color

Lighting the Spark

One Thousand Crayons

Why is that Fish Glowing?

Canva has an excellent page on color theory.

You’ll find Blue and Yellow Don’t Make Green on Amazon.

Polyneon Threads are available at Madeira USA

Hard Edge Applique: Redefining the Line

| ellenanneeddy

We talked earlier about soft edge applique. Soft edge is a minimal treatment that simply covers the edge of an applique with monofilament nylon or poly thread with a zigzag stitch. For things like water, air, fire, rocks, mist, suns and moons it’s perfect. Sometimes it’s good for flower petals as well. It’s for anything that doesn’t need a hard defining edge. It creates soft color shifts across the quilt.

But some things need that edge. Bugs, birds, frogs and fish all need that hard definition. Or you can’t really see them at a distance. And it makes a huge difference when you go to photo your piece.

You know I’m a color girl. I’m going to want to use color every time I can. But over the years I have learned, if you want it to stand out, use the black for an outline.

green outline
black outline

I particularly have tried it with bugs. Metallic thread green thread always gets my attention, and I reach for it much in the way you might reach for cherry cordial chocolates. But I’m mildly disappointed with it in the end, because it never gives as defined a space.

basic outline

I’ve been working on this egret, and the my process shots reminded me how important that outline is. Again, I’ve been working on doing a dimensional white bird, so it has a lot of contrast underneath to shade to white on the top.

The bare bones outline define the areas to shade with color. I’ve come to rely on 40 weight Madeira Poly neon. It comes in several blacks, but the definitive one is color #1800. I’m using a free motion zigzag stitch to outline, which is why the width is variable. (See post Zigging Upended for a tutorial on zigzag stitch).

I build color, from dark to light from the outline. For more information about choosing those colors, check out this post: Into White: The Search for White Thread Painting. But it’s coloring within the lines. As you can guess, I’m not so good at that. The threads encroach over the line and things get mushy. So the final act is that reoutline.

Redefining the outline

You can see the difference that second outline makes. All the edges that are fuzzed and mussy are now tightened up and out there.

The outside edges will be defined as I stitch the bird down. But having the inner edges cleaned with an extra edge of stitchery redefines all the lines.

finished egret

When I applique the bird on, again I’ll use my zigzag stitch with black thread. It gives the outline definition and punch and helps separate the bird from the background.

Studio Essentials: The Glory of the Design Board

| ellenanneeddy
1023-22 White Cherry Pond

Years ago I was in an Amish shop, where I made a purchase I really probably only could have made there. I bought 6 yards of black polyester double knit. The poor lady was scandalized. I was dressed in hand dye, obviously not only English but art quilting English. The Amish keep black polyester double knit for men’s suits. Clearly I was not making suits for some nice Amish man.

But it’s the perfect cover for a design board.

I have in the past hung things up on a balcony to the back porch and walked down the alley until I could see it right. That’s a bit hard on a daily basis, and I no longer have a balcony.

Do you need a design board? Yes. Yes you do. You need to really see what you’re piece is doing.

I have a lot of tools in my studio. I love my machines, my irons, my cutting and ironing table. But queen of them all is my design board.

I no longer work in bed quilt sizes. It’s irrelevant to art quilting. But most significant show quilts are largish. Average size for my work is about 36″ x 45″. It’s hard to find a flat surface that size that has nothing on it. Certainly not the floor. Never mind the other things that already on the floor.

The cutting table accommodates that size, but looking at something on a flat surface gives a distorted view. The only way you can really see your quilt is to hang it up.

Different placements for the bird on my photo wall

There’s a rhythm to doing any kind of art, and once you start working makes you want to push through. It feels good to do that. But it’s a trap. If you don’t look at what you’re doing, it’s easy to do something you wish you hadn’t. Does it need to move over an inch? Is the drawing the way I want it? Are the colors working? If you can’t see it, you can’t evaluate what you’ve done. I can’t really see it on the table., either. The perspective is off when you see it lying flat. So up it goes on the wall. It’s worth leaving it there a day or two if you think something’s not right. You can’t see what’s wrong if you don’t look at it.

My wall a sheet of 4″ thick sheet of blue dow insulation snugged up against the longest wall in the sewing room. And it’s covered with that black double knit.

Blue Dow is available at most building stores like Loews and Menards. It comes 4′ by 8′. It is lightweight and you can pin projects up easily. It can be cut to shape with a bread knife.

Any large piece of fabric like a sheet, felt, or double knit can be used for a backdrop. Black, grey or white make good backgrounds. I like double knit because it doesn’t collect lint and the black is a nice dark black.

It’s also my photo wall. Having a photo wall and set up in your studio gives you consistent photos. If you have the same camera, the same lights and the same background, your photos fit better in with each other and are easier to adjust, since you know what to do for them.

I also usually take a picture of the days work as the last thing I do, so I can evaluate my next step. Usually I post it on Facebook if it’s interesting, but at least for myself, I can see what’s going on. And plan what to do next.

For more information about how to evaluate your piece and it’s progress check out The Importance of Backing Up and The Wrong Bird: The Importance of Not Settling.

For information about photo walls and lights, see Fiat Lux: Studio Illumination

The Art of Unintended Consequences: How Can You Plan When You Can’t?

| ellenanneeddy

I love people who show me their quilt sketches. They have plans. They draw them out and then they execute them. It’s a great theory. I wish it worked for me.

It never has. I can plan all I want. Things shift and change under me, and the thing I’ve planned changes too. Quilt pieces shrink. Distort. Turn out to surprise me. All I can do is trim my sail to the wind.

I pieced up this split light source a couple of weeks ago. My hope was that it would go with my meadow owl. Unfortunately the owl was brown and the meadow was bluey green. That doesn’t sound bad but it just didn’t meld. They looked like two different quilts happening because they were.

The owl, with all of it’s purple shading ended up on a lovely purple/yellow backing.

The split light source piece lay folded up by the photo wall. And I looked up and found my left over koi.

These koi go back. They’re aged. I brought them with me when I came to Don from Porter almost 7 years ago. They were supposed to be a part of a koi pond that just never happened.

I’d tried several backgrounds, and they just weren’t easy to place. For one thing, they were red, white and black. That’s not my normal color scheme. I had a top started for them that was humongous. The whole thing left me quite overwhelmed. So they did what half finished pieces do in my studio. They traveled from the floor, to the photo wall, to the chair, to a suitcase, and back again to the photo wall. I don’t ever throw them out. You never know when their day will come.

Last Saturday was that day. I was trying out backgrounds for the owl. The pieced background did not make the cut for the owl. And there were those koi, hanging on the photo wall.

Splush! They fit right in. I made a batch of kelp. One of them was way too big, but the others slid around the fish in a lovely arch. Just add bubbles.

Could I have planned it?

Not a hope, not a prayer. But I’m thrilled.

Why do I think this happens? It could be part of my dyslexia. I’m not able to put things in order or sequence very well. But I have another theory. I think a piece of art has a life of it’s own. It’s more of a birth process than a conscious design exercise. I know pieces of mine have gone places I could not, done things I couldn’t have done. They have their own lives. They are not my children. But like children, they have their own path.