technique

Physical techniques used in making a quilt

Marching On: Struggling Along to New Tech

| ellenanneeddy
Detail of fish in water elements

I have to say that this week has left me exhausted. My new to me 930 froze mid stitch, and I am, again. scrambling. Currently working are the 220 and the 20 U Singer.

If it sounds like a first world problem, you’re probably right. But I sew every day, usually around 3-4 hours a day. It’s more than a job. It’s not quite an adventure. It’s certainly my mental health.

When I was teaching, occasionally I’d get a student who would ask me how to do something. Usually it was an amazing idea. But I’d never tried it. I was sorry to tell them I didn’t know exactly how to do that, but that they eventually would. Art is not all about inspiration, and public statements. It’s often fed by the ability to hunt the snark, find a way to make things as you wish. It’s damn hard work.

But if it’s important enough, you find a way. And many artists have the decency to make their journey available to others, so that our art grows, not just in volume or in content but in ability. It’s why we write. It’s why we teach.

If I said that to you in class at one point, I apologize profusely. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it’s what you wanted to hear. And I thank you for not having hit me.

The art quilt movement rebuilt quilting. Part of it hunted down old skills: hand stitching, hand quilting, pattern pieces, paper piecing and the like. Part of it is new tech: rotary cutters, machine work, computer design, different materials and stabilizers, different threads.

This is not the glamourous part of art. It’s grueling. Try one thing, try another. Look for an answer. Take the best compromise you’ve got.

Edging with three hoops on the 20U

I’m currently working on a koi fish quilt, working title, Upstream. It includes a kick ass koi and waterfalls over cliffs. I’m proud to say I figured out how to do the detail stitching on the 20 U. It involved 3 metal stackable hoops. I’m waiting with some anticipation for my Maggie Frame to arrive. It may really change the whole hooping process

The hoops are important because I can’t get a foot to work on the 20 U. The one foot that works won’t deal with the thickness of the quilt sandwich. Other feet I tried didn’t work with the machine or allow for a zigzag stitch.

For those not familiar with how sewing machines work, your machine will not form stitches if your fabric isn’t held taunt. Your pressure foot usually provides that stability. Without it, something else has to hold your fabric tight. Hense, the hoop. This video does a nice job of explaining how a stitch forms.

So I have to figure out the hoop thing.

On another front, my new crashed Bernina 930 is in pieces soaking in machine oil. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.

Stitched down with water elementals

I’m struggling with finding ways to utilize the Singer 20U. I added in my cliffs, direct applique with the 20U, using that stack of hoops. It’s a less elegant stitch line, but it worked.

Next steps: stipple in, add water splashes, back, quilt and bind.

Try, Try Again:

| ellenanneeddy

This is about keeping old work. It’s also about process shots. And it’s about putting things down and picking them back up when the time is right.

There are pieces that never work out. I don’t have a bunch of hopeless little piles in the studio, but there are some. This is one that is old enough that I don’t even have process shots of the disaster.It could vote. If I had process shots, Id know better what I did.

There are 200 fountains in Kansas City in around a four block area. I got to walk there one afternoon. I’m always a water baby. I was mesmerized. I saw a fountain with a cat head that blew my mind. Not the largest fountain. But all I could think of was birds flying through it. Owls. Spoonbills. Swallows. Chickens. Fantasy birds flying over an old stone fountain.

I had to try it.

It bombed. I couldn’t make the fountain. I’m not good at man made structures. I just didn’t have the chops. And I had no Idea how to make flowing water. It took me almost nine months to figure out that I couldn’t figure it out.

That kind of exercize is bad for moral. I never throw things out, but I must have thrown this out. I can’t even find the cat head I embroidered for it. Had I kept process shots and left the pieces alone, I could show you. As it is, you’ll have to imagine. It was hopelessly rumpled and the fountain looked like it was made by 2 3 year olds ready for naptime.

Fast forward 15 years. I rubbed a series of grey texturized fabric for some abandoned city pieces. I wanted birds flying over it. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? J’d come back to my cat head fountain.

There is an instinct to run. To say it’s too hard. To just back away.

But I’ve decided not to.

What has changed?

  • I do my embroideries separately now so I get much less distortion
  • I can do the fountain as a separate applique and applique it as well
  • I’m much more secure with falling water. I’ve done it now and feel confident I can do it again.
  • I now use oil paint stick rubbing to create old carved stones.
  • I’m working with a better stabilizer (Decor Bond, Stitch and Tear, and Felt)

Strangely enough, I was able to find a picture of the fountain online. Not available five years ago. Somethings just get better.

Will that matter?

It might, It’s worth a try. When an old idea still has that kind of heat behind it, it’s important. It needs to be worked with. We begin to transform ourselves when we interact with images that somehow connect strongly. Most strongly, when those images scare or upset us, but also the ones that delight us. Creating an image gives us some power over what we create. It changes our story. It changes us. All those cave men drawing Bisons can’t be that wrong.

Currently I’m working on embroidering the three swallows, visiting the fountain. While the fountain is a mundane ordinary thing, the birds are anything but. I did them in rainbow colors, because they are the fantasy past all that mundane cold stone. They are delight on a gray cold day.

I originally wanted one with owls and one with roseated spoonbills. I still might.

I’m going to continue this in several posts, because it’s clearly a journey for me, and I’d like to share it with you. Let me know what you think.

I See Spots: Knots and Dots

| ellenanneeddy

In a world where sewing machines have automatic cutters, do we need to tie off thread ends?

It’s certainly a time saver to have an automatic cutter. But how good are they? And what do your ends look like once they’re cut?

My 770 Bernina has a thread cutter. I love it when it works. That is part of the issue. But it’s instant, and happens at the push of a button. It does speed things up.

But there are other things lost.

Using an automatic cutter, it works equally well either working from the top or the back.

You can really only tie threads working from the back, unless you’re willing to pull all the threads to the back to tie them. Why go to the bother?

It depends on how you feel about poking up threads, and what kind of threads you are using.

Thread types

I use three kinds of thread for building most images: polyester 40 weight, wound metallic, and flected metallic. I could use rayon, but it breaks more than I want to put up with. I could use cotton, if I could tollerate the fact that it isn’t shiny. So those are my go-tos

Polyester thread is strong. Because it’s all of one piece, it doesn’t fray very much. It’s a softer than metallic.You can clip it right to the edge. You’ll have some poke up but it isn’t wirey.

All metallic thread is different. Since they’re wound of several components, even the best of them are relatively fragile threads, And it frays. The wound metallic is worse than the flecked thread. IF you clip them close. they pop up like the little wires they are, and leave obnoxious poke up endings.

Just because metallics are fragile, I tend to use metallics only from the back side. Thread breaks more through the needle than through the bobbin. But, as a side effect, you can pull the threads to the back and tie them.

It that tiresome? Oh, yes. It slow down your stitchery considerably.

That being said, nothing else looks like metallic thread. It’s a texture that is crisp and shiny. Did I mention that I like shiny?

Is it worth it? It all depends on how you feel about fuzzy threads poking up from the top.

Pulling threads

For this fish, with all his spots, I felt it was essential. I wanted a smoothly scaled surface with separated spots. You can sew all the spots at once and have stitching connecting them through the piece. It works if you intend to stitch heavly over the connections. It tends to be a bit thicker than I like. So each spot was stitched separately and tied off, start and finish. If I just clipped thread, the fish would look furry before I finished.

Could I have stitched in one place and anchored my thread that way? I’m never sure about that. Sometimes I’ve seen it hold, sometimes not. Tieing is sure.

How to pull up thread

  • Come to the end of your stitching line.
  • Pull the piece 4-5 inches away from the needle, with both top and back thread attached.
  • Place the piece under the machine needle exactly where you stopped.
  • Move the wheel through one stitch. when the needle comes up, take the top thread from both where the stitching stops and from where you put in the last stitch.
  • Pull the thread from both places, and your thread will pop to the top of your piece.
  • Cut the ends long enough to make a knot.
  • Tie top and back threads together
  • Clip after the knot

So here is my beautiful fish, ready to jump in the pool. He’s all tied together, and he’s sleek in his metallic finish. And nothing is poking up, laughing at him.

Is it fussy? Well yes. But if it gets the look you want, isn’t that the point?

Avoiding the Easter Bunny Look: Shading with Pastels

| ellenanneeddy

Anatomy of a Color Scheme

There’s no help for it. If you are shading a pink bird, you’ll need to use pastels at some point. I’m not a fan. But you don’t get to throw out a section on the color wheel. Eventually, you’ll need all the values: tones, jewels, and pastels. Tones and jewels. Yes! Pastels. not that much.

Let me break down the color scheme for you.

There are six color zones, in the feathers of this bird, and then a zone for the neck and thighs, the feet, the head and the bill.

There are two progressive color themes going on. The pink under body and feathers, and the green overstitching. Both progress from dark to light.

Where did it go wrong? I chose the wrong yellow.

White objects are rarely pure white, unless you want a posterized deco look. They’re made up of other colors pale enough to be perceived as white. The bird itself is pink. I pulled in bits of lavender and yellow to blend it and to create a shadowed projection. I chose the wrong yellow. If you look at the top feather, you can see a strip of yellow that’s pretty loud.

You know that kind of Easterbunny pastel. Yellow, pink, blue, purple, and maybe green. It’s only appealing if you’re under the age of five. It missed here. I stitched some cream and natural white thread all over it.

Then I added the overstitching. The overstitching takes center stage, and the yellower bits back off. I think I’ve saved it. It also browns out the pinks a bit. They’re all there, but quieter for the green.

What should I have done? I should have lined up that yellow in a row with the other colors and taken a black and white picture of it. I would have known right there. But I’m happy with it now.

I’m ready for the next step, which is the background. And I think it needs yellow fish and birds.

Rethinking retooling

| ellenanneeddy

This last year has been a disaster for my sewing machines. Most of my work depends on intense embroidery. Lately I’ve depended more and more on that stitchery for my images. I love it. But it does wear and tear on the machines. I had 6 major machine breakdowns. last year. I broke down 3 220s, my 770, my 630 and a 930. Some have fixed. Some have not.

I’m a Bernina girl from way back and have been a Bernina Ambassador for most of my career. I work with Berninas because they are tough and they stitch accurately. That doesn’t mean they don’t break down, Particularly if you’re sewing at speed demon speed for hours on end. I was told this is my fault.

I suppose it is. It’s what I do. I can either back away from this kind of stitching or find another way.

Zigzag embroidery allows for intense detail and color, I can’t step away from it. I also can’t keep breaking machines. So something has to change.

Don is my miracle in this. He’s a wizard with older small motors. He’s not specialized in sewing machines, but very mechanically savvy. He’s collecting manuals and parts machines. As always, he’s my hero.

I really can’t function though without a working machine and I prefer 2 backups. I’m not exa sane without a sewing machine.

Years ago I bought a 20 U Singer for intense embroidery. That’s not what these machines are known for. In a way, they’re the cockroach of the sewing machine world. Not in the sense that they hide under the cupboards, but because they are pretty much unkillable. You find them most often in dry cleaner shops for repairs.

It was a mixed success. This thing eats babies and cats, breaks thread constantly, and is fast—too fast—even with different slower pulleys. And it was the weight of a tiny elephant. When I left Porter, I left it in my studio, where it has sat.

Ken, the person renting my house, offered to bring it to me. That in itself is a huge glft But I’ve had my reservations about making this machine work. I first felt I was stepping backward, Is it an answer to the same problem? Is this machine tough enough?

Well, we know it’s tough. Can we make it work with embroidery thread? There’s the question. It’s also paid for.

It had its problems before. But things have changed. I now use stronger threads. I no longer work in a hoop. And we found that a servo motor would step down the speed. So it’s coming to the studio sometime this month, and we try it out. I’ve gone from feeling like I’m stepping back to seeing new possibilities.

You can’t step in the same river twice. You are different and the water is different.

I’m digging out the studio this week to make room, which is why I don’t have new work to show you. I’ll let you know what happens next.

Wish me luck. I think it’s time for another spoonbill.

A Very Buggy New Year: Streamlining Quilting with Component Techniques

| ellenanneeddy

Component quilting lets me streamline my quilting. I have two quilts I’m working on that will need some bugs. Why?

Both of these pieces are going to need some help building a pathway. Bugs are a great way to do that. They flitter across the surface and they create movement. But these need a significant number of bugs. It’s just easier to make a batch. I think ended up making 35 in all.

I did damsel flies, moths, and small white butterflies for the frog/turtle quilt.

For the bluebird quilt, I wanted larger white butterflies.

This batch of bugs was a color lesson for me. Normally I ignore gold and silver thread. When there’s purple and green metallic thread, why would I use gold or silver.

All of the bug bodies are from Madeira FS2/20 thread. The black core thread really looks like beading up close.

I tried the opalescent white as a butterfly wing. I was underwhelmed. I really don’t like the pink quality.

I needed the white that silver brings. I tried going over it with silver afterwards. It was not improved.

Opalescent white under silver does a nice bright white. For those birds, nothing else will do.

I wanted a softer quality for the moths and the swamp. So they were done from polyester threads.

For the damselle flies I needed a solid carapace and see-through wings. The iridescent thread did the wings nicely, even with the pink cast.

Different threads offer really big differences in the result. In this case, it keeps the bugs separate from each other and from the other elements in the quilt.

Size is a limit with component quilting. Things under an inch and a half are hard to keep crisp and have too heavy an outline when they’re applied. But for most elements, it allows me to choose where to put what. Choice is good.

Gilding the Lily: Adorning Fabric Rubbings

| ellenanneeddy

A couple of weeks ago, I did a series of small rubbing pieces. I use rubbing plates and oil paint stick. I focused on different backgrounds, flowers, bees, dragonflies and butterflies. It’s an endless river of design choices in a tiny scale.

I’ve loved working with tiny pieces. It’s nice to have a quick result, and they’ve proved to be popular. Who wouldn’t want a delightful piece of art that fits everywhere and doesn’t cost much.

The rubbing plates I’ve been using are a limit of sorts. I still haven’t figured out how to make my own. I will. I want it bad enough, I’ll do it.

But I’ve enjoyed working with these flower plates to stretch what they might be.

But there’s another side. It’s soothing to spend a couple days just stitching. The rhythm of the machine, the movement of design, and the feeling of watch thread flow from the needle to the fabric all create a tao that’s gotten me through endless tough times. Demanding focus to actually color in the lines is very good for me. A lot of my stitching can be mindless. This is not. I have to try to hit the line.

I’m going to show you some of these before and after I’ve stitched them. It’s a magical change that always thrills me.

They are transformed by stitching. They’re lovely, just as fabric rubbings but they change in amazing ways, once they’ve been stitched.

These are supposed to be waterlilies. But with some background and color changes, I think they make fine Dahlias.

These are supposed to be forget me nots.

But I love them as carnations

But there’s another side. It’s a place to explore and work with colors differently and stitches differently. Not endless change, but small differences not tried before. Is there anything I haven’t tried. Of course there is. Move it over a quarter of an inch and add peach, and I’ll bet I’ve never done it before.

I’ll be finishing these little quilts in a day or two, and they’ll go up on the website and onto Etsy for sale. You’ll find tutorials on rubbings and stitching on the video page.

Take time to try things out in little ways or big ones, as your work needs. It feels great to stretch a bit.

Over and Over Again: Ladybugs, and the Need for Serieous Work

| ellenanneeddy

No. I did not misspell that. All art, all creative process is a journey where we ask questions about design, color, shape, materials and techniques. Each piece we do is an answer for the question. Do I make a big moon or a small one? Out of Angelina Fiber? Or tulle? Or that strange gold brocade I just brought home? Do I make rays? Or a big circle, or spirals woven into each.

How do you do the black and white parts of a ladybug? Bobbin work again, but showing different directions.

Put them all together and they make a series. Series work helps us answer a billion and one questions.

There are no right or wrong answers. But each quilt gives you other questions to try. And since experience is the best teach, each quilt is a new experience, even if you will never do it again. Try a new thread. Will it work from the top or shall I put it in the bobbin? This machine likes this kind of poly monofilament. Will it work better with a cone holder? Horizontal or vertical? Endless questions that can only be answered by an endless dance of doing.

But the other reason is fascination. We regularly explore bits of the world that fascinate us. I’m fascinated by bugs of all kinds, but in red? Red? Where’s the red?

Well of course, I now have a reason to explore all those reds together. What if she isn’t really red?

Do I find repetition boring? NO! I find repetition changes everything as we put together the puzzle of each piece

So, if there’s something I don’t know the answer to, I sit down with a pile of new work that just might give me the answer. I’m not repeating myself? I’m on a journey. Who knows what I’ll find.

Brightening Up the Barnyard: Hollyhocks

| ellenanneeddy

While working on my very brown guinea hens, they began to develop personalities. Frankly, they remind me of church ladies: the old biddy crowd. I began to realize that they are basically chickens with dots.

So I started working their background. It’s basically a barn yard.

I know. Not appealing. Very, very brown.

So I thought of the flowers my neighbors grew in their back gardens and alleyways. One of my neighbors had hollyhocks. They’re not currently in style, I guess. They’re in the same classification as sunflowers. They’re tough, tall, and grow in miserable soil. And, unlike sunflowers, they come in a rainbow of colors.

I loved them then. I love them now. My friends and I made hollyhock dolls and played with them endlessly.

I don’t get to garden very much nowadays. I don’t bend that well. If it doesn’t work into my raised beds, it won’t happen. But my studio garden can grow anything I want under my machine. I wanted hollyhocks to brighten up the barnyard. So I made a batch.

These are cut from hand-painted lace. Most lace and organza nowadays is a test tube baby. It’s usually made of nylon or polyester. Either way, it won’t dye with regular dyes.

Not to worry. They paint beautifully with acrylic paint and fiber media. You can read more about painted lace in this blog, Painted Lace: the Real Thing.

These laces fuse on with Steam A Seam 2. I’ve placed them on a sandwich of felt and Stitch and Tear to embroider them.

They add some brightness just as they are, but the stitching can take it right over the top. I used some of the most neon colors out of the Madeira neon line.

The leaves are veined simply.

These flowers should shine some light on the barnyard. If I can’t grow them in my garden, I can sew them instead. And the biddy crowd loves them.