Today I needed a color break. I’ve been frantically finishing the Stitch Vocabulary Book for three weeks, and I was terribly tired of computer work. So I sorted out the fabric I intend to bring to sale at Gems of the Prairie in May, That meant I set aside the pieces I wanted to work up.
Of course, that was an immense pile, Somewhere in it, I found this owl.
He really wasn’t lost. I knew he was around. I just wasn’t sure what pile. He was the third of three owls I made for a quilt that simply never worked.
I found several pieces that I thought would be amazing backgrounds. But a very strange thing happened. It wasn’t just that the fabric made the owl feel different. They actually started telling really different stories about him.
So this had a golden open door he’s going through.
Investigating a flower in the garden. Perhaps with small mice or butterflies.
Flying toward a red moon. Or is it a rose?
Is that a fire or a sunset? Is he flying towards it or in flight away from it?
Or somehow a moonlit winter night. Perhaps with snow. Or a flowering tree with moths?
I’m always astonished by hand-dyed fabric. It’s so versatile and offers so much to design. But I hadn’t seen it as a backdrop to a story. And that’s exactly what it did.
Which will I choose? I’m not sure yet. Normally I’m drawn to color. But there’s something fabulous about that winter moon. And while I work on it, perhaps it will tell me its story.
No one likes a new machine better than I do. That whole new machine excitement when you take it out of its box, set it up, and take a square of cotton to run it through its paces, see what marvelous things it does. It’s a magic moment.
And not an everyday one either. Most women keep a machine for around 14-15 years. I do too. At that point, if you sew a lot, you’ve probably worn it a bit. And there’s always the new and cool things the new machines do. But after 15 years with a machine, it’s almost like an extra arm. You know what it will do and how to do it best.
Small disclaimer: I am a Bernina girl. I have no affiliation other than the fact that they have the best stitch in the business. I appreciate other machines. But my workhorses are all Berninas. This is not to say you couldn’t do my techniques on other machines. I’ve demoed everything at one time or another. But I prefer my Berninas for their stitch, their feet, and their toughness.
Several years ago, Don bought me an old Bernina 730. It’s at least 60 years old. I didn’t bond with it over much because it wasn’t quite as fast as some of my machines, but it ran well. Its zigzag was a little ratty. I was in the process of new knees and that occupied most of my time and all of my energy. It got put on my machine rack. I didn’t exactly forget it, but I didn’t pull it out.
Lately, I’ve been working on some much larger work. This is a craziness of some sort, but I have a show coming up in September, and there’s nothing like one big show-stopper quilt to kick that off.
The new 770 Bernina is my love. It’s monstrously fast and excellent for large embroideries. But it hates monofilament thread. Even with the tension adjustments at a slow speed, it stitches about 3 stitches and something breaks. Mostly my temper.
So I’ve gone to using my 230 travel machine which handles monofilament fine. But it’s tiny. It’s a three quarter head machine with a 6 inch throat. I love it. It’s the best classroom machine I’ve ever used. It is, however, impossible to fit a 69″x 50″ inch quilt in that six” throat.
I pulled out the 730. Its slower stitch ate up miles of monofilament nylon without a hiccup. And I’m finally less afraid of the monster sized quilt.
Some personal thoughts:
Machines don’t break down in the closet. Your machine will break down in the middle of a crisis sew. This is just mathematics.
You need more than one machine if you sew seriously. See above.
When they offer you a trade-in on your machine, if you have the money and the space, hold on to your old machine. Becue there may well be things it does better than any new machine on the market.
Finally, if you do garage sales, rummage shops, or Ebay, keep your eyes open for legend machines that may need homes. They show up, much like God-given gifts. If not for yourself, for someone you know who may need them. Good machines deserve good homes.
I always love it when people visit my studio. Studios are workplaces, the equivalent of an artist’s ivory tower. They also can be messy, wild, and full of possibilities. But they can feel lonely. I remember a conversation with an African Fiber artist. She told me she was writing from Darkest Africa. I don’t doubt that, but I told her I was within the shadow of the cornfield. It’s true.
So it’s wonderful to share studio time with others, to get their input, to help them with their work, to share the vision, and to get an extra pair of eyes.
My friend Sharon had been working on a contemporary quilt that had her nervous to start. Sharon’s a veteran seamstress with fine quilting skills, but she wasn’t used to the contemporary approach. She spent an afternoon where we tried a whole lot of things, just to see.
She wanted to do a piece with triangles on it. We placed the background on the wall. She had triangles cut of yellow, purple, and fuchsia cotton prints. We place them up randomly. It didn’t quite do it. But we took a black-and-white picture to see what was happening.
Black and white photos show us value. The light and dark of a piece define how it will be seen, what will stand out, and what will be the background. We noticed that the yellow really stood out. So we decided to use the yellow as subject and let the other colors support the yellow as the background for it.
It was still pretty random, so I suggested drawing a pathway across the quilt. She drew a path. She arranged the yellow triangles on the path and made a background of the fuchsia and purple triangles. Much better.
But the yellow was an odd calico, and it didn’t have a lot of punch. we pulled out some yellow sheers and lame`s. Since they were so shiny against the cottons, they illuminated the path. We cut triangles out of those and replaced the yellow calicos.
The black-and-white photo confirms that this is a strong design.
Sharon’s really pleased with this quilt. She’s ready to sew and sure of her design. I’m sure her niece will be thrilled when she gets it. I was delighted we had worked through some design decisions in a way that will help Sharon as she works on her next masterpiece. Studio time is holy.
I do have people schedule studio time. I even have a guest room at the studio where they can stay if they wish. And I do video conferences as well. We do whatever my student wants. I either teach them what they want to know, supply moral and technical support or help them work through design decisions.
Is it like class? No. It’s much more personalized. It’s a way of connecting artist to artist, with a second pair of eyes, to explore where your work might go next.
As for myself, it makes me think about things I never really work with ordinarily. That’s always a good thing. And I love the company.
Do you want to come to the studio? Contact me and we’ll set it up.
I’m a bit shy about this, but all art runs not only on desire or passion solely. There are bills to pay and we hope all of us as artists to sell enough work to pay them.
But those of us who have taught, who have shown, who have written to share their art know that much of what we do is never paid for, except in the sense that we pay back the people who came before us. It’s how we make a community for all the artists we know.
So if you would like to support me, buy me a cup of coffee, or let me know I’ve helped or inspired you in some way, here’s a tip jar. I know you’ve supported me all along my journey as an artist. If you’d like to express that in a monetary way, I’d be much obliged. Thanks!
It happened again. I was sewing along, in the groove, grooving it when I turned over my piece and found I had the wrong bobbin in.
Not just the wrong color. Metallic when I had intended my bird to be soft poly feathers.
There are several things to do at this point. Certainly one is to put your head in your hands and wail. I tried that and it didn’t shift anything. I got out my mustache trimmer, and really looked at it.
The thread was the Madiera bug body metallic (black core) that’s purple, red and green. If it sounds odd, it is. There’s nothing else quite like it. All three shades are the exact value, so you can actually shade with it. The red was a little much, but it added an iridescence to the bird I really liked. I stitched more of it in and decided it a happy accident.
with and without metallic
There are other answers. This would have taken a lot of ripping if it was irredeemable. Enter the mustache trimmer. This is a Wahl Half Pint Travel Trimmer, that is the no-tears-lather for removing zigzag stitching. It’s available at Walmart and Amazon.
Here’s how to use it
I chose not to rip this time. But I’m equipped when I need to. As You Sew so Shall You Rip is about evaluating when you really need to rip and when it’s optional.
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.
Sheers and metallic lace make the water for this fish
I have several kinds of fabric stashes. There is a small but excellent stash of hand dyed cotton and cheesecloth, and the stabilizers I use. They need to be kept separate because I’d never find anything again if they were not. But there is a sparkle stash, the living falling wall of sheers. And then there is the fabric with no name. I don’t know what you call it. It’s out of the drunken prom queen collection. Sheers with velour. Twinkle organza, sparkle tulle, printed lame. It was originally fabrics samples for fancy dresses.
Much of it came from the Textile Fabric Outlet, which still is at 2121 21st Street in Chicago. But I’ve bought pieces anywhere I found them in my travels. I hope and pray I have a lifetime supply. I haven’t been there in a long time, but they assure me they still sell samples and remnants.
The fabric gets put into different drawers, according to it’s purpose. I have a collection of plastic drawers where I keep fabric and thread. They’re plastic, light weight and cheap. No one ever said they were decorative or stable. But they hold quite a lot of clutter. They pop together like pop bead necklaces. They also unpop from time to time.
That’s when the drawers explode.
Last week one of the stack of two fell of it’s own accord where I usually sit in the cutting room. Thankfully I was not there. Drawers everywhere. Fabric everywhere. And of course since I get lazy and don’t exactly put things away, it all looks like crumply, rumply wads of indescribable stuff that is hopefully fabric. Who knows?
That, and my machine being still out to be fixed led to at least three days of intensive ironing and sorting. Yes, I know, iron is a four letter word. But this time it really helped me out.
Anthony Jones, a fellow quilter who’s taught at many conferences with me once pointed out the difference between pressing and ironing. Anthony started as a tailor and has gone onto quilting. But his early training was in couture. He told me that ironing is the flattening of fabric. It’s a sliding movement across the fabric. Pressing is ironing in one place to persuade a seam to be on one side or another. Pressing leaves the fabric in one place. Ironing moves the fabric, and sometimes your seam as well. There is a difference.
Well, in this case it took ironing. It turned out I could iron 3 drawers in one day. That sounded like process until I counted up to around 40 drawers. I think I have my non-creative fabric project for low energy days for a long time.
One other word about ironing, it’s all in the fabric content. Anything that is a test tube baby,(nylon, rayon, and polyester) can and will melt. I’ve done it once in demo. It was quite dramatic. For regular cotton ironing I use a Black and Decker Classic iron, a recreation of the 1950s black irons. They use very high heat and generate a lot of steam. For the test tube babies, one of the modern irons that are made for polyester clothes is safer. I no longer use expensive irons. These fit my needs just fine.
I found fabric I’d long forgot. I have small sample bridal and dressy fabric samples that make the best dragonfly wings and bug bodies. And wonderful lace and organzas that make landscapes and sky washes. There were wonders I hadn’t seen in years.
And being someone who never really cleans, folds or puts away except when drawers fall out, I had no idea how much less space it takes up to store folded iron fabric instead of stuffing it in a drawer. Who knew?
My machine is home, 6 drawers are ironed and we will resume the channel to chaotic embroidery until the next disaster occurs.
Normally I talk about quilting, art and design technique. But my beloved sewing machine is currently at the vet. So my 230 is on the table and I’m puddling along with projects. I thought about the lighting makeover we did recently.
Light is sight. We see nothing without lighting, and without good lighting we just don’t see well enough. That affects everything, from threading needles to photography, to fabric choices. And my eyes aren’t getting younger.
I’ve done my sewing in attics, and basements and back closets, and in class in all kinds of lighting, most of it pretty bad. But a studio makes it’s own demands. Besides, I was hunting everywhere for my reading glasses, all the time.
Lighting has changed drastically since the beginning of leds. I decided to put Don on it. There had to be a way to make this better. He had the best ideas. We made some mostly cheap changes that changed it all!
Some simpler changes that are really effective. Don changed the 60 watt warm ceiling bulbs to 100 watt bright white leds. It’s not a restful change. But it’s real illumination, even at night. The change is dramatic. It makes the room crackle with energy and it takes out the dark spots. I can even see the things I dropped under the machine on the floor.
The old incandescent bulbs took a lot of energy to create light and threw a lot of heat off as a byproduct. The compact twisty florescent bulbs were more efficient, but they had mercury in them and it made them really bad to clean up after they broke. I’ve had ott lights, but I never really noticed a big difference with them. Leds create light just through electricity. They can be very bright without the heat and so much safer. And I can adjust the temperature on many of them. The link on top will take you to a great Cnet article about leds.
I’ve already discovered shop lights. My favorite ones have a ring in the center with a magnifying glass. These are one pivot and can be swung directly to the spot where you need one. My first one had a florescent and an incandescent bulb. Now the new led ones can directly change the temperature and intensity. The table clamp means it can be anywhere and won’t fall over. These are a bit pricey but lovely. I have one on each machine table. Pay attention to the lums, the magnification and the size of the arm. The wider the arm, the wider area it illuminates.
We also put in a pole light at my sewing table with a reading light on it. These are a cheap fix. A pole light reflects light off the ceiling and brightens the whole area. The reading lamp is direct light on your work. They both help a lot. They’re available at all kinds of places at a full price range, and help particularly as a hand sewing or ripping light. Remember to change the bulb to a 100 watt cool blue and the shade to white.
My 770 Bernina has a bright light under the arm of the machine. One more reason to love it! But you can buy those lights, and put them under all kinds of sewing machines. Light right where you need it. Even on old machines.
We have some excellent photo lights. But they are big and unwieldy. For smaller pieces it’s like chopping vegetables with a machete. Just too much power for the task. So we put in some smaller photo lights that can change temperature and intensity at the push of the button. The heads on both of them are about the size of a large post card.
Consistency with lighting makes for a consistent portfolio. Work is has a consistency in color ranges and tone. Having consistent lighting confirms that and makes it shows off better. In a way, it’s good branding. And they work well for vlogging and videos.
If you aren’t regularly taking photos of your work, start now. If your critics don’t care, your grandchildren will. Everyone’s art deserves to be documented. Yours too.
Did you leave the iron on? Is the mangle plugged in? Are the machines running? Unanswerable questions unless you’re really willing to look hard at every appliance at the end of a hard day. All satisfied by a florescent light and a power strip.
These aren’t about illumination. But they let me know when the electricity is flowing. They’re plugged into a power strip with the other studio electrics. When they’re off, everything on that power strip is off. When they’re on, you know just by putting your head in the room. Some go on the wall. Some are free standing. I have one for each room so I know when I’ve left something on. Do I have the same kind in each room? Don’t be silly. I have a dinosaur, a whale, a star, Jupiter, and a flying bat.
Power Strips
The downside to a lot of this lighting is that is that they use USB plugs. I can’t say I understand it. They just do. You can buy power strips with USB plugs or use an adapter.
I’ve put in links so you can easily find these things. But they’re universally available.
Look for the lighting that lights up your life.
There’s another byproduct of good lighting. Bright lighting makes me happier. That never hurts either.
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.
