design

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.

dimensional daisies: putting backgrounds into perspective

| ellenanneeddy

I’ve been working on this owl for some while. I have her soring over a meadow and I’ve wanted some wildflowers to make that happen. Daisies seem like a good way to start with this.

But how do I make the depth happen? I get that I make the daisies at the bottom larger and the ones in back smaller and less detailed. But how does that happen in proportion?

As a theory, I’m going to try to treat this as a prospective issue. There’s one point perspective and two point perspective. If I treat the daisies like I might telephone poles, can I get them to create a retreating background to the piece?

I’m not one hundred percent up on art perspective so I did a little research.

One point perspective creates a retreating road that goes into a horizon line. Everything comes into that one point on this grid. You can work it from any angle but it ends at the vanishing point.

Here’s the straight line, street version of this. It naturally creates a background that retreats.

Two point perspective places an object in three dimension in the center of the piece.

It naturally comes forward. It creates something that lands smack in the front.

That kind of perspective won’t give us a background. So we need to be thinking in terms of one point perspective.

I’ve been playing with several backgrounds for the owl. Not at all sure I’ve found the right one yet. Perhaps building my meadow will make it clearer which one I should be using.

Here’s a plan for daisy perspective. The slanted line horizon line is the body of the owl.

This background worked a lot better with the daisies and the owl. It picked up the purple shadows in the feathers and sets off the yellow flowers. I did a huge pile of daises, in gradated sizes.

The larger daisies at the bottom gradate smaller until they reach the mountains. It’s daisies used as telephone poles.

What happened to the gradated piece? That’s another story. But it’s already got a home.

Over and under: three dimensional leaves

| ellenanneeddy
The leaf is all one piece of fabric. The threadwork defines the fold.

If you’re making nature quilts, you’re likely to need to answer the leaf question. Leaves ripple and rumple and almost never lie flat. And they fold. How do we make that happen on the quilt surface?

Here some approaches.

defined by stitch

I tend to use a free motion zigzag stitch mostly to apply leaves. It’s fluid. It follows curves. And I can change color at will. I also tend to use a polyester Neon embroidery thread by Madeira. It’s strong, bright as a button and light enough to stitch over several times until I get what I want.

Dividing a leaf in half and coloring it with one side dark and the other light creates an immediate sense of dimension for this quilt. It’s the same fabric, but the coloration changes with the thread choices.

defined by applique method

Direct applique is applied right to the top of the piece with glue. I use Steam-A-Seam 2 by preference because it allows me to move the piece around before I iron it into a permanent place.

This makes simple shapes easily. But it doesn’t allow for wild curves and vines

The leaves are drawn on a separate fabric and stitched to the top. Then the access is all trimmed away.

cutaway leaves

Cut-away applique is done with a cloth laid over the top and stitched in the shape you want. Then the leaves, vines and trees can be cut away along the stitch line, leaving more fluid shapes.

Leaves formed by cut-away applique continue the background shading through peek-a-boo holes.

Cheesecloth leaves

The sheer qualities of cheesecloth and the texture mimics the cell structure of the leaves and lets bits of the background through. Cheesecloth makes fabulous leaves and can be dyed any color with Procion dyes. The wild stitching with lime and orange makes them look crinkled.

Making the leaf fold

This cheesecloth leaf folds along the darker blue line of thread. The threadwork itself defines the fold. The purple line on these leaves folds the center and the two slightly different thread colors top and bottom help confirm that.

Mostly leaves are defined by threadwork. These are some ways to make leaves look like they popped out of the background. And that’s pretty much what you want.

Lighting the Spark: creating thread images with contrast

| ellenanneeddy

Threadwork is delicate. Just because threads are tiny thin things. Just by their nature.

We can layer threads infinitely. But singularly they don’t have a lot of effect. So how do we keep threadwork from mushing into a soft blend? We need a spark. If we take just light and dark shades of a color, that’s a good start. But it’s bland.

What makes a spark? Contrast. Either in color, in shine or in temperature. High contrast keeps it from being dull. And since thread is such a little thing, it we can use intense contrast without overwhelming the piece.

sheen

The first thing we see with thread is it’s sheen. How shiny is it? Threads come from dull cottons, to smooth rayons and polys to sparkly metallics. The eye sees the sparkle first.

So if we want something to stand out, something really shiny will make the spark. Which is why I use Sliver, and a number of other flat shiny threads.

If you’re doing animals, you want their eyes to be the thing you see first. Sliver does that. You make an iris of any color, a black pupil, and a small iridescent spark inside the eye. It’s a spark inside a spark. And it brings an eye to life.

Or I can make my background shimmer by stippling sliver in gradated colors across the piece. Sliver is a delicate thread. It works best in a regular bobbin case. I use a matching polyester thread on top. If I stipple pretty much last, all the other stitching tells me where the stippling should be.

color

Color contrast always startles the eye. The highest contrast in color is always going to be the complement. Complements are powerful. The blue and peach make a spark between them to shade this bird.

The pinks are sparked by the yellow green overstitching that makes the feathers an flowers.

temperature

The hot gold details stand out against the smooth greens and blues and lights up the feathers.

black and white: Contrast in Value

Both black and white are extreme contrast. For threadwork, I’m careful of both of them. But they give us an edge. I almost always outline in solid black or black metallic. But on the raven’s wings, I overstitched the feathers with black to make them pop.

Contrast is always what makes our heads turn, our eyes turn, our hearts beat. And that’s the point to art, isn’t it?

Fade to Black: Shading black objects for dimension

| ellenanneeddy
Envy

Black and white have the same problems. They’re absolute colors that are really harsh statements in their full form. I almost never do a completely black or white object because they are so overwhelmingly strong and so flat. They overwhelm instead of fitting in.

I’ve worked on creating a white dimensional bird out of different pastels and greys. You can see the result on this post, Into White.

But would the same approach work with black? Instead of using tinted pale colors to create depth, use toned darker colors to create shades of black and greys? That’s what I’m going to try. I’ll take step by step photos so you can see if it works.

Indigo Blues

Have I ever done this one this before? Sort of. I’ve done black before, but when it comes to the contrast shades I’ve turned to purple and blues all of which because they were in my stash were a bit bright. The effect was essentially a purple and blue bird. It’s a fun art statement, but it wasn’t what I was aiming for. I really did want black.

I found this great drawing of a raven I did years ago. It fits into my birdfeeder series, so we’ll see what we get.

This turned out to be hard. I ordered the darkest threads in blue, grey, brown, and purple for it. When they arrived they did look ugly.

The other hard thing was telling which were darker. The tones were very close. I used my red, and green color filters and did the best I could to arrange them dark to light.

The real question is, is this a brown/black raven or a blue/black raven? I’ve tried to mix both blues and browns for a neutral black.

It’s not uncommon for this process for the stitching to be discouraging. It doesn’t look really impressive half way through. So I’ve taken step by step photos so you can see the change.

It didn’t work the way I expected. I was quite disappointed. Then I did what I had planned in the beginning. I used black metallic as my last color. The last color is always your strongest color and the one you will see the most.

The final thing that helps this out is the background. I’m using this piece of hand dye that pulls towards the brown/grey shades even with the yellow reds in it. The color of your fabric is the light source of your piece. This background echoes the brown/blue/black quality of the bird.

Is this a final answer? It is for this piece. I want to play more with it after I’ve had a color fix working on something bright and showy. All these neutral darks are depressing, but I think I got my bird where he should be. I think he needs to be flying over conifers. Maybe I do too.

Back to the Drawing Board: Drawing to Make Creatures Feel Live

| ellenanneeddy
1017 Three Wishes

Embroidered appliques rely on a drawing to start with. It’s always a moment when I take a deep breath and give it my best shot. I’m not good at drawing. I’m just stubborn enough to keep at it until I have something useful that I’m usually aiming for is a creature in motion. I hate still lifes because the last thing they seem to be is living. If it’s in motion, it’s live.

In a way this is another reason for free motion. The perfection you find in computerized embroidery doesn’t help us here. Being less regular, smooth and even make things more real and interesting.

I usually draw on Totally Stable, which is a fairly good thin drawing surface that irons on and tears away from the final embroidery surface. It does not erase well, but I usually trace my first drawing to clean it up and to get it going in the right direction. Since the drawing is my pattern on the back, it needs to be facing the opposite direction for the applique. I do make some adjustments for shrinkage. Check out my post Drawing on Distortion for a discussion on how to plan for that.

Is it moving already?

Of course we are talking about a two dimensional art form. How do you make it move? There are several good tricks.

If it’s walking, flying, crawling or stepping up, you’re already half way there.

Don’t make things symmetrical

If things are in dimension, one side is always a bit smaller than the other. Of course it helps if one side is moving differently than the other. But the closer side will have a bigger eye, hand, wing, claw or whatever. That’s how we’d perceive it in life.

Depend on angles

. Things either drawn with an angle or put on an angle give the illusion of motion because our mind tells us they are in motion. We expect gravity to be in play when we see something at an angle. It’s moving because in real life it would be moving.

The best reference book I know for this is The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation. I’m not a big Disney fan, but Disney knows about creating images that flow and move from one frame to another. It’s not a cheap book but it’s one of the best.

So I draw things. And redraw them. And scratch out the lines I don’t like. And trace it once or twice. Until I have something that moves me and moves.

Into White: The Search for White Thread Painting

| ellenanneeddy

Some things are an experiment. Some things are a quest. Some things are like the holy grail and you keep searching for them interminably.

White is one of those things. When you’re working with thread painting, the easy answer is many shades of grey and then white, or many shades of beige and then white. Both are incredibly boring.

“Why couldn’t you just make it white?“ I hear you say. You could. If you want it to shine out stronger than any other element in the quilt and you don’t care about dimension, you could. Pure white can be like an out of place spotlight in a quilt.

So the quest is, what mix of colors, greys and beiges will make a white that will have good depth, cast and drama. And look like it’s white.

In that quest, I’ve done a step by step photo study on this bird, in hopes to study it.

I’ve talked about zoning and shading before so I won’t flog that in this blog. “Rethinking White” is a post about shading white applique flowers. It’s a bit different than totally building color in thread. Because it’s built on sheers instead of strictly thread. But you may find that a useful difference.

Dimension is made by arranging colors from either dark to light or light to dark. It builds the illusion of shape. The progression of colors creates shade and shadow.

Here is my thread range I chose. It’s a mix of blues, purples, greens greys and beige, laid out dark to light.

I’ve put together some process shots to help explain.

Head Shots

Dimension comes from having a dark, medium and light area in each color zone in your piece. If you can establish dark, medium and light, you can make depth, something that isn’t by nature flat. Then for interest’s sake I added a shocker and a shader color to spark it. Of course the beak and the eye bring it to life.

Changing Cast

The two things you are building are cast and dimension. Cast is the color under the color. Most colors either lead towards the sun or the shade. You get the clearest colors by using only sun or shade colors in an embroidery.

But sometimes clear color isn’t the goal. If you want to come to a neutral shade, you mix both. And try not to go too far from the center. It makes a fabulous blended shade, but it’s hard to accomplish.

The cast on the under feathers was more yellow than the rest of the bird. An over stitched layer of a bluer grey pulls the color closer to center.

White doesn’t have to be boring. Or grey, or beige. With a little thinking and a close eye we can create a blended white with dimension.

The Wrong Bird: Not Settling

| ellenanneeddy

Sometimes it just doesn’t work. most of the time I can see it in my head. Except when I can’t tell until I get it up on the wall.

I was a bit unsure when I drew the bird. But he had great movement. I stitched it out anyway.

Two things happened. It shrank and that was a real problem. How much? I had a notion so I measured. Roughly 8.9 %. Doesn’t sound like much but it didn’t help. I’d used a yellow thread in the mix that didn’t make me happy. And I hated his legs. They just didn’t quite work.

But honestly it was just the wrong bird. Much happier with this drawing. Ignore the lines with squiggles. They are off. It will have to be drawn in reverse for the picture.

Years ago in college I made a stone wear red queen as a portrait of my mother. Trust me. It was appropriate. It blew up in the kiln.

Stubborn is just tenacious in a different dress. I built again and this time it survived the firing. Of course they put all my work after that in the firings where a woman did work that always blew up.

So I have an extra bird I don’t quite know where it goes. And a bird I love drawn ready to go. Not a big problem as these things go.

Sometimes it makes sense to settle. Sometimes it costs your heart and soul. I hope not to get in too big a hurry to hear myself. Or to work until it’s right.

Update:

Here is where that bird finished up. He’s so much better sized for these fish.

This is what happened with the second bird drawing. Boy, am I glad I refused to settle.