I’ve spent a lot of time working with making rubbing plates. Here’s one of the reasons. There are ways to make waves out of sheers and lame, or stitchery, but I want that feeling of white foam and spray.
It’s pretty. But it lacks definition. I can approach this with thread and/or sheer applique. It’s also a test case for my cranes.
This is what I’m aiming for. I’d rather not make my mistakes here. I’m waiting on some beach grass stencils to finish off this top. But I’m still unclear how I want to treat my water.
The two pieces give me the opportunity to try different ideas and compair them. For Making Waves 1 I treated the white bits as different from the darker blues. I stitched it with 40 weight madiera metallic supertwist first. That was miserable. Sometimes Supertwist will work with a 90 topstitching needle and a lot of Sewer’s Aid. This wasn’t that time. I got about three stitches before breakage. That’s past my tolerance.
So I went to plan b
So instead. I stitched the white waves from the top with poly 40 weight. The stitching from the top marks the back Then I traced the stitching with #8 weight candlight, rainbow.
I like this a lot. I went back in after that and stitched the rest with matching poly 40#.
Making Waves 2 is my second possibility.I stitched the waves withpoly 40#. More subtle but I like it too.
I also tried two different approaches to my sheer overlays. For Making Waves 1
I used white and purple cheesecloth. I found it too clunky.
Making Waves 1 sheers with cheesecloth
I like this treatment better. Metallic lace and white organza just blends in better.
Making Waves 2 sheerswith fish d1
So to recap. I like the thick threaded Candelight on the waves, 40 weight polyester on the darker sea, and metallic lace and organza on the waves. What do you think? What would you choose?
My work contains a lot of different processes. It can seem a bit overwhelming when you’re looking at the inished piece. But there is a flow to it.How do I start? What makes sense out of what comes first? And next. And why?
I’m using the cat head fountain as my example here because it’s what I’m currently working on. This is a repeat of a quilt that never worked out.( see Try, Try, Again). Every piece has its own challenges and processes, some of which are unique to that piece. This one isn’t reallly typical. I’ve been trying to fix my problem with man made structures for some while. The fountain itself was a separate process I’ll skip over for right now.
I’d like to say none of this is written in stone. This is generally how I approach a piece of art.
Which comes first, the background or the subject?
It can go either way. It’s a chicken and egg problem. I need both. It doesn’t matter which comes first.
Background
The background answers many question. Sometimes there’s a piece of hand dye has really strong opinions and tells you exactly what to put on your quilt. It’s worth listening. So I put the background up on the wall and let it tell me the story. Is it a swamp? A meadow? A river? The background often tells me exactly where I am. What time it is? This background was a piece of oil paint stick rubbing on gray hand dyed that made perfect old stone.
Sometimes there’s a piece that’s perfect but it’s just too small. I may strip piece it to stretch it. I did piece a border to this, to get it to the right side.
Subject
The background does all of that xcept when it doesn’t. Then I go looking for images. I do use books for reference. I’m a poor enough artist that once I’ve drawn it, it’s pretty much unrecognizable. But I do like to get the numbers correct on how many toes my creature should have.
I draw on Totally Stable, an inron on, removable stabilizer. The stabilizer stays witin the piece. It’s drawn backwards because I’m stitching from the back.
Either road, I never prep the back until I’ve embroidered the subject. The embroideries shrink. And not in an even way. The shrinkage comes from the width of the zigzag stitch you’re using. Usually it’s around 11 percent, it’s not consistant, or predicable.
Stabilize the Background
Once the subject is embroidered, I stablize the back with felt and Decor Bond.
Elementals
Elementals are things that are see through fire, water, air,clouds, flower petals. If it’s a flat applique, I back it wit Steam a Seam 2, iron it down, and stitch it in a loose zigzag with monofilament clear thread.
First Pin Up
Once I have the elements in place, I pin up my subject into the background and assess what I need to make a pathway
Components
These can be any smaller images that direct the eye through the piece: bugs, fish, birds, or stones. In this case it’s leaves, roses and small yellow birds
Second Pin Up
I add in the components to create a visual path. This it that last moment to adjust for everything The smallest angle of a leaf or bird can change it dramatically.(see Turn of the Head) After it’s stitched down, I’m committed. This is where I currently am with this quilt. The next part is to leave it on the wall for several days to be sure everything is where it should be.
Stitch Down
At this point I stitch the elements into the background
Stipple
Most pieces do not lie flat unless they’re stitched all over. Some kind of stipple will accomplish that.
Back, Quilt, and Bind
Finally I back the piece, quilt it, and cord bind it. Check out Way over the Edge for instructions on cord binding.
This is not always the path. But these are all things that need to be accomplished.
I regularly walk you through my projects step by step. But I don’t often show it in a more macro form. For more information on work flow check Deciding Rather than Designing.
i need to start this post with a full disclosure. I am deeply dyslexic. I wasn’t diagnosed until I was teaching myself, but the b’s, p’s and t;’s periodically spin like tops for me. I’m not so hot on left and right either.
So when I wanted to add a reflected image into water on a quilt, it wasn’t an easy thing.
I start most quilts start with a good dyslexic exercise. I draw in pencil and trace a copy with a Sharpie. The drawing is ironed onto the back as a pattern and is backward. My thread colors top and bottom are the same, so I know where I’m going. This is charted water.
But a reflection isn’t exactly the same. I wanted to put a reflection of the birds in royal rails.The reflection in the water needs to be flipped vertically. But not horizontally. Add to the confusion that if you trace the shapes with Steam a Seam 2, the pieces will be cut flipped horizontally. I thought I could accommodate that by flipping it upside down. Nope. That did not work. I ended up with feet that pointed the wrong direction, Here’s the thing. By the time you take the drawing, trace out the pieces for the shadow in organza and put them on to Steam a Seam 2 to glue them, they’re backward again.
I never figured it out for this quilt. When I put in the water there wasn’t enough space for the reflection. It whipped me.
I can see it if I make a model. If I try to hold it in my head, my head explodes.
I finally made a little model. Both images are flipped horizontally. The bottom frog is flipped vertically.
I made several color layers from the drawing tracing out the frog, the turtle and the snail bits in separate color layers of red, dark green, and light green. I laid the turtle layer over the whole drawing, and placed the cut-out bits in. It was tedious, but it worked.
Now what is left is to place in water over and under the shadow image. And add waterlilies.
I feel like I have a new tool for my tool box! All kinds of reflections coming.
Every winter I take up a new project to get me through the snow. I try to learn something new. I try to accomplish something entertaining.
I’ve been wanting to make a book out of my blog posts. If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I try to bring you into the studio, messes and all. I like the transparency of walking you through my project, and experiments, sharing what I’ve learned.
I will not simply copy off the blog. I intend to weave it into a reference you can use for techniques, information, and inspiration. I’ll be covering design, color theory, techniques, tools, and materials you may never have tried before. Would you like that book?
Here’s my introduction.
Welcome to my studio! Like most artists, this is where my mind lives. This is where the work of my hands exists. This is where my heart beats. This is where my soul breathes. I’ve taught free motion stitchery for 40 years. You may think that means I’m out of date. But I’ve learned an immense amount about thread, about stitchery. about expression, and about healing hearts. Because we heal through expression. We heal by transforming our experiences into the works of our hands. I’ve know that within the context of stitchery, I teach courage and confidence. Art takes both. The good news is that they are muscles that can be built as opposed to a gift you either have or don’t have. Our courage is best when we are children and we don’t care about whether we succeed or not. We simply do things and enjoy the task. We can lose that courage, but we can gain it back by suspending judgment and just doing. Confidence comes from courage. It is the knowledge that we can only learn to do something well by doing it badly for a while. Everything worth doing is worth doing badly. We have confidence that in time we will do it well. With those two skills we can learn everything. The articles in this book are based on years of blog posts. They are not slavishly reproduced. Instead they’ve been groomed into a collection of updated skills, projects, art statements and stories, meant as a guide for your own work. I had a marvelous Bosnian neighbor called Hanifa. Hanifa baked unbelievable pies, baklava, and pastries. They were unassailable. But she was a bit worried that anyone else might use her recipes. She would tell you anything, but she wouldn’t tell you everything. One or two ingredients or processes would be missing. Many times, enough was missing that your cake wouldn’t rise. She was the best! She never wanted to be less than that. She was just a bit proprietorial. I don’t need to be the best. I only need to do my best. But I’m very good at what I do. And I will never give you a recipe for a cake that won’t rise. Because I want you to be your best as well. So welcome! I intend to show you everything.
This is where I need some help. Would any of you be willing to read and comment on this as I work on it? I also will be offering some small learning projects I need someone to help vet.
If you are able, interested, or have thoughts about this, please leave a message in the comments. As always, I want to write a book you want to have.
Anyone who has written an art statement knows that meaning is illusionary. I think it may be whether you are visually oriented or verbally oriented. Verbally-oriented people can tell you what everything means. They understand their visual architecture. I find them fascinating because I can’t do that.
I get haunted by images, by different animals. and by small worlds. I work with those images until I’ve worked it out. Sometimes I have an idea of what it means. Mostly I don’t until and only after I’m long done. Somewhere my mind must know what it’s about. But it’s not conscious. Instead, the images need to work their way out.
This year, I’ve had a compulsion for little yellow birds.
Those of you who know me well, know I had a rough time in high school and before. I was targeted by people who chased me, hurt me, and humiliated me, while other nice little apaths stood against the wall and watched snickering. I do not want to hear I should be over this. You don’t get over this. It’s happened and it’s who you are, forever. Because it happened, you live in a world where it always could happen again.
It’s not that I remain a victim. It’s that I have no patience with bullies, sociopaths, apaths, and people bored enough to do this for fun.
So most of my quilts are social commentary. They’re about living in a dangerous environment where there are predators. They’re about finding a safe way through.
Not safe, necessarily. Livable.
So in a world where we are discussing canceling peoples’ basic human rights, we’re not to complain, and where we’re supposed to trust a rapist to protect us, it seems no surprise that I’ve had little yellow birds finding their way through my quilts.
I loved it. My mother made me a red and white dress for the day, and you brought valentines for everyone, and then you filled their mail box with them and found your own filled.
I was not much of a social butterfly. And I’m not sure I would have gotten any valentines if everyone didn’t send them to everyone.
But most of all, I loved all that color in the middle of the snow. Red, pink, and orange warm my heart whatever the temperature. Add a dash of purple. I could get drunk on it.
Valentine’s day is sort of a bust for a number of reasons around here. Mostly, Don doesn’t do holidays. And if either of us really wants something, we just go buy it. But I still get off on the colors.
Don takes me for a color bath every fall. He drives me around the stately homes of Galesburg and I gasp at the amazing leaves. This time, I happened to look down at the red roses beneath the trees. Absolutely breathtaking. Red, orange, pink. I might as well be drunk. So I started with a batch of red roses. I’d been wanting to do a garden quilt.
I have several ways I make roses, but my favorite is with spirals.
After cutting spirals, I glue them to felt. The felt is red because the color will show through. That’s a promise.
Once they’re all stitched, you can see the form better from the back.
Here’s how they look cut out.
I intend a sunflower and some hollyhock for this quilt as well. Yellow birds as an accent.
This is just pinned up and the leaves for the roses and the hollyhocks aren’t finished yet. But I’m excited. With all those fall leaves falling, we’ll need a garden in bloom. It’s just like Valentine’s day.
I’m never really satisfied with my drawing skills. Drawing is like writing. The only way to get better is to keep drawing. I cut better than I draw. Which sounds stupid until you look at the cuttings Mattise did at the end of his life. He couldn’t paint with his limitations, so he did cut outs instead. They are magnificent!
I don’t know that my cut outs work that well. But I am more confident with them for floral/tree ideas. So when I went to make a rosiated spoonbill nest (which is basically sticks), I cut out branches rather than try to draw them.
Of course, they’re flat before you stitch them. There’s about three colors of brown hand dye in them. But the stitching is the definition.
Usually, I build bark with my stitching. With this much going on, it’s hard to see, but I added a layer and savaged it to make bark that pealed and curved.
This time I went for something a bit different.
Laws puts out drawing how-to and journaling books that I really like.
Not only does it show you how to draw an object. It gives you a thousand ways to see what it looks like at a different angle or at a different point of view. And how and why it changes. I turn to these books to push myself to better drawing.
Every piece involves an endless number of choices. Sometimes I think it’s fun to share them with you. Creation is a journey best taken with friends.
I love the woods. I can’t walk in them anymore. I can’t walk anywhere far at any length. But I can make the woods for myself.
I’ve been working on a roseated spoonbill for some while. I chose a fabric that had that deep wood blue greens in it. With a big pink bird on it, I knew I was on the right track.
I considered what kinds of trees I wanted. I wanted a deep wet swamp. Pine trees would work for that. I made beautiful deep green branches on them.
I pinned up my gorgeous trees and watched them disappear into the background.
Back to redesign. That kind of redesign takes me a minute. I left it up on the wall a bit to think. Yesterday I dusted the tops of the branches with the brightest light greens I had in my threads.
They looked much better.
Then I put them up and photoed them. They looked great on the photo wall.
Odd things happen with photos. I usually take photos of what I’ve done at the end of the day as a record of my process. I give the photos to the owners when they purchase a quilt to invite them into my process. I don’t always remember what exactly I did, so it’s a good practice.
This time the photos deceived me. The trees looked way too bright. But when I came back to the studio, they looked so much better.
I’ve had another problem with this piece all along. I couldn’t get the head pointed the right way. I cut the head off so I could reposition it, but it’s still not right.
Yes, you can cut embroideries apart. After enough stitching, who would know? I do it whenever needed.
So I separated the neck and tucked it in at a stronger angle. It pleases me more. She looks like the birds have disturbed her but she’s in motion.
Do I know what I’m doing? Don’t be silly. I try things, put them on the wall and stare them down until I’m sure.
The tool that makes this all possible is my photo wall. If I don’t take the time to look at it, I really won’t know when it’s not right. Why?
Because I don’t want to take the time. I want to get done. That doesn’t always work. Two days looking at the piece is infinitely better than knowing forever I needed to move something over 1/2″. Or ripping it out.
If you don’t have a photo wall, you should. You’ll never know what you’ve got until you really look at it. For more information about building a photo wall, look up Studio Essentials: The Glory of the Photo Wall
If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you know that I’m into batch quilting. I do almost all of my embroideries as separate components which I apply to the quilt top. That gives me the freedom to design more organically and to change plans on a dime.
It also has its limits. I draw things for my embroideries. That doesn’t always mean they fit into the design at the end. Not to worry. There’s always another quilt, and there’s always a need for more bugs, birds, flowers, frogs, and anything else I end up batching.
Small batch elements are excellent for creating a visual path within the piece. They server as stepping stones between larger elements that help carry the eye through the piece. They need to be relatively small and bright to do that.
Bright is a flexible definition. In a blue stream, small copper-brown rocks are bright. A piece of lime yarn on a blue-green background is bright. It’s a matter of contrast. For the last three quilts, I’ve been fixated on small yellow birds. First I did ones in flight and then ones perched.
How many do I need? I ended up stitching another batch when I discovered the ones with blue tail feathers disappeared on the sunflower background. It turned into a pile.
But that’s good. I got the major elements settled on the piece and put the yellow birds in place to generate movement.
It can be bold or subtle. Simply aiming the birds so they’re interacting with each other or with the ladybugs I sprinkled in, creates a line of action within the work.
So how many do I need? I really don’t want to get half through the design and find I need to embroider another batch of birds. How many can I make before I’m bored? The only limit is my attention span.
I’ve finally figured out that it’s worth my trouble to trace out my patterns so I have them left over. I also flip them so I have them in two directions. I probably won’t use the same bird in the same quilt, but often they do look very different after they’re embroidered. It’s actually pretty much the same amount of time by way of setup to embroider 12 birds as 6. The stitching is its own time, but that cuts thread set up dramatically. I spend days doing just mushrooms, or frogs or yellow birds.
It’s changed how I work. It’s changed how I think. And it’s changed my output dramatically.
And then there are all of those wonderful leftovers. You can always use another ladybug or frog. For a small work, it can be the focus itself. There really isn’t any waste. Even if I get tired and stop within the process, I have a nice batch of almost finished bits I can use in the next creation.
How many yellow birds did I make? I believe around 20. I forgot to count. Some of them were orange, so does that count as yellow?
