Lace Jellyfish, Step by Step

I wanted three-dimensional transparent jellyfish with opaque areas.

This technique depends on the stabilizers. But there are a number of different stabilizers that will work. They are made for very special purposes.

Stabilizer Sandwich

This time I made my stitching sandwiches out of a layer of Totally Stable for my drawing, Paper Solvy, lace or organza, and Badgemaster, All the stabilizers except the Totally Stable will dissolve out of the work. What I want when I’m done is a clean outline and edge, with some white areas and some transparent.

You can make an image just with your stitching. But you have to make sure all of the stitching connects with itsself or it will fall apart when the stabilizers are gone. Instead, I used commercial nylon lace and organza as the fabric

What do those stabilizers do?

  • Totally Stable: Iron-on, tear-away. Good surface for drawing a pattern
  • Paper Solvy: Paper-like, tearaway that provides stabilization without a hoop that will dissolve in water.
  • Badgemaster: Heavy-duty corn starch topping that dissolves in water.

The order of the sandwich was, from top to botton, Badgemaster, organza or lace, Paper Solvy, and Totally Stable. Snce we’re working upside down, Totally Stable drawing layer is on top where we can see it.

The threads I chose were a polyester white top thread and a Cristalyn white metallic in the bobbin. The metallic is more fragile, and that is why I have it in the bobbin. I chose white because the background is so dark, and I wanted them to shine out. All of the stitching is done from the back.

You’ll notice that I used 2 different magic markers for my drawings. That was an error. Even with all the stitching, the marker colors showed through. I don’t mind either the blue or the orange, but they don’t work together in the same piece.

The Stitching

These are all stitched free motion from the back.

Stitch Process

Outline the image. Freemotion zigzag.

Remove any of the Totally Stable parts you want to be see-through. Score them with a pin and pull them out.X

Use a straight stitch to texture the jelly.

Remove the excess Paper Solvy and Totally Stable from around the pieces.

Stitch around the edge with a zigzag to stabilize them.

Cut away all the excess stabilizer

I edge-stitch again just to give them a more solid edge.

The Paper Solvy and the Badgmaster need to be dissolved in hot water.

Badgemaster is starch. So I took the trimmed off scraps,dissolved them in water, and dipped the jellies to give them that hard starched edge. I dried them on freezer paper. Notice that the orange jelly is the one that was drawn in orange. I need to rethink my mmarkers.

We’re ready to roll with the 3rd pin up on Octopus 5. I believe we’ll call it, Rock, Paper, Shark.

Round and Around the Garnet Stitch: The Octopuses’ Garden So Far

Octopuses have put me in the land of the garnet stitch. It creates. textire and pattern, all within it’self.

Garnet stitch is one of the great non-programmed stitches. it’s simply moving your hands free motion in circles. Check out the Variable Garnet Stitch for more information about the stitch.

Garnet stitch has another very useful feature. You can always see the background behind it. Sometimes that is to be avoided. I pick my embroidery background to match the overall background carefully, so only the stitching stands out.

But sometimes I want the embroidery background to shine through.

This was one of those times. The background for this piece is darker and moodier than the other pieces in the series. I needed something to lighten it up. So I used a very odd cream and green background. I love it. I have a green and cream light octopus in a dark sea.

We are on to the pin up stage for octopus 4. That’s always the moment of truth. You know if it’s going to work at that point.

Because I’ve made small metallic fish and 2 nurse sharks, I have my components to fill the space and set a path. I’ll tweek it some, but the design is pretty much there.

There’s a lot of stitching left, and I need to do my water layer. But I’m confident I’m going to like this piece.

Just to show you where I am in the octopuses garden, here’s the pieces so far.

One more at least to go. Does it look like a show yet?

Pump It Up: Where Size Matters

I never used to think about how a quilt would be viewed. Was it pretty? Did it move? Did it tell a story? Did it change people to see it? I never thought about how the size of the space around it affects what the viewer sees.

Now I’m keenly aware of the space a quilt will hang in. I don’t have any control over that when I sell a quilt. It goes where the owner wishes. It becomes part of their house and their lives.

But small work is viewed differently, just by definition. Small work is made to be examined. You come up close to see it. Every detail matters and is exposed.

Unfortunately, most small work isn’t really that visible at a distance. It’s made to be intimate. Your relationship with it is within its small space. It fills a tiny space with an explosion of color and detail.

Larger works have a harder task. Done well, they will pull you from across the room. The movement and the color should sweep you in. But once you’re up close, the detail should amaze you.

When I first started using rubbed fabric in pieces, they were all experiments. I worked very small, partially to learn and partially to see how they would be received. I was limited by the size of the rubbing plates. The largest were under a square foot.

I’ve worked hard to find alternatives since then. I’ve used ceiling tiles and texturized surfaces. I’ve learned to make my own rubbing plates from modeling paste using stencils. So my options have expanded not only in size but in possibilities.

With these octopus quilts, I’m using the rubbings as objects themselves, rather than backdrops. Mostly, I did seashells and jellyfish.

I love the rubbings I’ve done for this. But they need something to pump them up to be seen across the room.

I usually use straight stitch #40 poly thread to match and shade the rubbings. That’s exquisite on a small piece. It’s almost invisible at a distance. So how do we pump it up?

I chose to stitch my jellyfish in white. I rarely use white. It’s too bossy. But for this piece, white thread pumps the jellyfish up.

I chose to outline with a very small zigzag. It’s a subtle difference. But it does define the line.

For the seashells, I did not outline. Their shapes were visible enough.

The downside of this much stitching is that I have some distortion. We can fix that. Where’s my iron?

We’re ready to back and bind.

Again? Really? Yes. Really.

I try really hard not to rate my pieces as I make them. I find that my opinions of things change over time, largely in reaction to people’s reactions. If I suspend my judgment of work, I find I learn more from it. Suspending judgment allows me to flesh out ideas and move on. Finish the quilt. Next quilt, please. The learning is the goal. The quilt is almost a byproduct.

But sometimes I do a piece that knocks my socks off and throws me across the room. It’s not an everyday thing. When that happens, I find myself asking some of the same questions that I ask when I do something I hate. What happened here? Why is this piece wonderful? Or awful? What?

Was it the color palette? Technique? Is it about my background? The image itself?

A fabulous piece makes you think, “Can I do this again? How did this happen?”

I love this piece so much. So I’m going to try not to reproduce it, but to focus on its successful elements.

Part of what I love here is the quiet palette. I normally go for eye-sore colors. This was restrained. Luckily, the last batch I dyed had a piece, not exactly in the same palette, but in the same tone.

The fish can be the same threads. And I think it needs to be.

I had trouble with the fish. I wanted a fresh image, not the same, but in the same colorations. So I started several fish, only to find them wrong. I love these. But in terms of direction and size, they’re just not right.

I went through my collection of drawings. My embroidery process uses a pattern drawn on Totally Stable that goes into the back of the piece as a pattern and a stabilizer. So each drawing is consumed by the embroidery itself.

Not to worry. For the last 3 years, I’ve saved a tracing of my drawings for later. It’s turned into a jumping-off point for other pieces, and I consider that collection a treasure. I found a fish that had to be at least 10 years old, which I don’t believe I ever used.

This will be reversed when I’m done. I’m half way through the embroidery.

Originally I used a tree rubbing plate both for the trees themselves and for the reflection in the pond.

And I want to explore the rubbed oil paint trees. This piece of fabric evokes a stream rather than a pond.

Now that I’ve analyzed my elements, we’ll see where it goes. It’s at that awkward spot where everything looks wrong. But that’s the exact moment to suspend judgment and push through.

It may take all those elements and work well. It may not. There’s a mystery here I don’t understand. But I think that part of it is that a piece is not the sum of its parts. Instead, perhaps it’s a whole being itself. Maybe it can’t be reworked with the same success.

Push on. Finish the quilt. Next quilt, please. The learning is the goal.

Understanding Quilted Textures: Layering for Stunning Effects

Most quilters think in terms of one surface. You make a top. You quilt a top. It works for the traditional quilt.

It’s never worked for me. If you’re creating a natural world, one layer seems, well, flat. Layers change tones across a piece, build texture, create shading, and add elements that are present but not solid. They can be made from fabric layers, thread layers, and sheer layers.

I also have a layer of image embroidery which is a separate thing.

Hand dye is always my starting layer. Even now when it’s become a pain in the ass to dye, I still don’t want anyone’s fabric for my art but my own. It’s unique one piece to another and if you let it, it will tell you what to do. Who doesn’t need a leg up?

This last month I’ve added another possibility. I can have an oil paint stick rubbing layer that adds substance as well as texture.

Because I can make the rubbing plates I need. I’ve used rubbings for all kinds of things, but mostly, the commercia; plates are best for texture. Oil paint stick rubbing is not exactly transparent, but it does show the background through.

On this piece I wanted trees, water, and reflected trees. I wanted the actual trees to be more present, so I stitched them straight stitch with brown, black and blue.

The reflected trees and the water texture I simply let be. It feels, mirkier, wetter and more like water surface.

I have a beginning layer of sheer shapes for water under my fish.

After I’ve stitched down my fish, the second layer of sheers places them in the water.

A stippled thread layer of Madeiera Metallic colorizes the air portion and makes it shimmer.

A stipple layer of Sliver thread makes the water splash and shine.

Finally a layer of leaves defines the surface of the water.

My goal was to create three worlds, the pond, the surface and the air. I think I’ve got it.

Layers add texture, density and complexity to what I do.

Is This Off Color? Other People’s Perceptions

I spent last week working on three cranes. I was fairly pleased with myself, when someone asked, “Are these cranes having sex?

I hadn’t seen it. I still kind of don’t. I looked up a picture of cranes in love, and it didn’t quite look that quiet. But I have my head in my hands trying to figure out what I do next.

I was inspired by a Japanese textile design in a Dover Pictorial Archive book. I’m pretty sure they didn’t see it as cranes in love. It was my own rendering of it, changed in the way we change everything we draw ourselves.

Usually I let people tell me anything about my art. If it comes from them, it’s theirs. I don’t mess with that. I meant what I meant. I’m not responsible for their response.

But this hits me in a place that makes me feel very vulnerable. Sex is about bodies and bodies are about vulnerability. Art is about visual vulnerability. I’m not really secure about body image. I work in animal imagery since I can’t bear to work in human flesh. I have a delicate detent with my body, somewhat riddled by the failures of old age and memories of high school.

It’s a response to really old tapes. I wasn’t just fat. I was born deformed. Admittedly, it was a small genetic oops. But my mother could build a tragedy out a broken nail.

IF you are harmed enough, people can frame you as being inhuman. If you are harmed deeply enough, you may even think that’s true. If other people think it’s true, they can do anything to you because you aren’t a human being. That was my whole childhood. It seems to be going around globally right now.

I’m not taking this anywhere except in my own life. And I don’t want anyone to explain situations where it is somehow ok. Or tell me to get over it. I don’t believe we get to dehumanize people.

The bottom line is that I’m terrified of naked vulnerability. My animals are me in some way. I’ve come to see my self through Don’s eyes and his vision is kinder than my memories. I usually let that stand. I’m not sure I can be a crane in love on a quilt.

I took the time to reoutline the birds. It usually makes things clearer. Maybe this time that’s not such a good idea.

So what do I do with a quilt with cranes possibly delecto inflagrante? Do I finish it? Put a bunch of cat tails around them? Do I stuff it in a drawer until I feel more brave? I tend to not just throw work out, even if I don’t like it. I could put a lower price on it, and it either sells or it doesn’t. That assumes I can bear to finish it. There’s a dark corner in the closet, perfect for storage.

So what do you think? Would you finish it? Show it? Put a fig leaf on it? What?