Free Motion Applique

The Differences that Just Are: Normal Is a Setting on the Dryer

| ellenanneeddy

A friend I knew well recently asked me if I knew I was odd. It was said as a pejorative. Well. Yes. Actually, the hardest thing for me has been to connect with ordinary people. Most friendships are task-related. My life has not followed ordinary patterns or currents. So I don’t always have the same tasks. Sorry about that. I get to most places other people go, but I’m not on the same schedule. I’m not particularly ordinary. She told me I could at least pretend.
I know, even past her irritation with me, that it would only matter if there were any ordinary people. Normal is a setting on the dryer. They’re just different in different ways.
How much of this defines us as artists? Are we really separated by our art? There are people who say they aren’t artists. I don’t buy that. We are not artists by what we do. We are by our genome. We are artists because we are human, and that’s part of our humanity. We may not choose to make art or need to make art, but our humanity makes us artists. It’s common to us, but it’s not ordinary. What isn’t ordinary is the need to focus on that art.

There are always artists who we see as better than we are. More ability. More output. More glory. Sorry about that. They’re not ordinary either. But it’s not a competition. They can’t do what you do, either.
So that well-vaulted, much-desired normal is not in any way normal. That may be just as well.


Perhaps the only thing we have to offer as artists is our viewpoint. That really isn’t ordinary. It’s the unique viewpoint we bring to the world, and it is precious.
Skill is something we learn over time. We develop all kinds of abilities, and they change our lives. They are a wheel that runs smooth or rough against the road of time. We gather skills, we drop what disinterests us, lose them as we age, change them as we grow. They change with technology and time. Skill doesn’t make you an artist. It just improves your vocabulary.
Our vision is who we are. What we see, the images we must work with, those sometimes change, but they are personal. They are all we really have to offer. Talk about different! None of us are much like other people. Vision usually is more permanent. It can change, but it represents a huge change in who we are.
I tend to see people as animals. It’s not a comment on their humanity. It’s just my vision. All those bugs and frogs and birds, they’re people I know. That especially includes myself.
I am not like other people. I don’t think anyone really is. Our uniqueness is a sign and a symbol of that unique spark. I can’t help but wonder if ordinary is a sign of exhaustion. Of giving up. Of giving in. Of course it could always simply be that I’m not trying hard enough to blend. But if you see yourself as a large frog, well, there you are. And no one can say your not working hard enough at it.

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Courage and Confidence

| ellenanneeddy

When people ask me what I do, I tell them I teach machine embroidery for quilters. What I mean is that I teach them to draw upside down with a sewing machine.

The  classes I teach have a syllabus, but there is always another curriculum beneath that. While I’m teaching people to drop their feed dogs, draw with their sewing machine, and clean out the dust bunnies inside, something else is happening.

After years of teaching, my students tell me the same thing over and over. First they tell me they’re not an artist. I tell them they are. Art is not a special gift for one person or another. It’s a part of our humanity. The whole range of human ability sits within our genetics. It’s not a matter of whether we are artists. It’s a matter of whether we choose at this moment to focus on art. Sometimes our lives focus on art, and sometimes our art becomes living our lives. But the raw material is always there.

Once I’ve got them through that spot, they spend a day working on things that I suspect sometimes frighten them. But at the end of class they often say, “I don’t do what you do, but I feel free/fearless/able to do what I need to do for my own work”. That feels right. What am I teaching? Fabric skills are easy. Most people get what I do with a sewing machine within a day or two of class. But the heart of art is harder to examine. I’m teaching machine embroidery, but I’m also teaching courage and confidence.

Courage is not a feeling. It’s not about how we feel about our world, our actions, our art, and ourselves. Instead, it’s how we act towards those things. Feelings are basically fluid.  They come and go in waves. How we respond to, with, and in spite of those feelings is courage.  It’s a series of responses that we can learn.

Confidence is also learned but in a different way. Again, it’s not a feeling. It is a history of successes we hold up as a shield against new dragons and quests we take up. Again, we learn confidence. Sometimes we unlearn doubt and relearn confidence. We restructure our world in such a way that we know.

So, what scares you? Which piece have you put off doing because you think you can’t?

Many years ago, I saw a fountain with a cat head in it. I was delighted. I imagined all kinds of birds fluttering around it, as their personal bird bath.

I tried this fountain quilt 15 years ago. I’m not good with buildings. They have straight lines. It’s quite hard for me.

But I’d seen a cat head fountain. I tried it with owls. Epic fail. It’s still in a bundle in the back of the studio.

I had two stumbling blocks: the fountain itself, and the streams of water.

Time brings us skills. The oil paint stick rubbing I’ve been working on makes pretty good stone.

I’ve also been working on waterfalls. The same shape works with fountain spray.

Is it done? No. I have one more hurdle. I already know it’s not going to lie perfectly flat. It’s sat in the corner unfinished for a year.

The need for things to be perfect is a lack of both courage and confidence. Nothing is perfect. Perhaps it’s more interesting that way. And it’s not like everyone doesn’t know that perfect happens somewhere else. Other people don’t get to demand perfection. Excellence, yes. Perfection? Not so much.

So I need to find my big girl panties. They may be in the same pile as the quilt.

What I really need is the courage and confidence for the next step.

Hummingbird Commission 4: The Background and the Applique

| ellenanneeddy

You would think that the background doesn’t have that much impact on a quilt. Something pretty to showcase your basic image, right?

Not my experience. The background sets several things in place. It sets the time of an image. And each background tells a different story. The images tell you the who and what. The background tells you how, why and where.

Here are the backgrounds we chose preliminarily for this piece.

They’re all good choices. They tell a different story. Is it daytime or night? Is the flower alone, or is it in a garden? Size tells you different things as well. Smaller pieces are more intimate and look more intricate.

Since this is a commission, it’s the owner’s choice. She wanted the soft background with lots of flowers.

I love these oil paint stick rubbings! I usually overstitch them to accentuate the texture. I did that here as well

Lately , with paint stick backgrounds, I’ve been stitching the whole background, rather than applying my image and stitching the background around it. It makes a smoother piece, and it blends in better.

These are stitched from the top with polyester Neon Madeira. Since I’m following the rubbing, I need to have it on top where I can see it.

Buto it’s still worth looking at it from the back. You can see the unstitched part that will be covered by the flower.

Here’s where the flower fits in. I edged the flower with an angled zigzag stitch, echoing the colors I used in the petals.

For the hummingbird, I wanted him to pop. So he got outlined in black. It sounds unoriginal, but black always has more impact and leads to a more defined edge.

We’re ready to back and bind here. Thanks for taking this journey through this quilt with me!

Hummingbird Commission 3: The Flower

| ellenanneeddy

Every hummingbird deserves a fine buffet lunch, so this one has a flower of her own. The flower is made from different pink lace sheers, cut into petal shapes and backed with Steam-A-Seam 2.

I love using sheers as flower petals. Petals are, by their nature, translucent. But the sheers need extra support. I use a piece of felt in a color that I won’t mind seeing afterwards.Steam-a-Seam 2 is an excellent glue, but it also stiffens the piece. I also have a piece of Stitch and Tear behind it all.

Steam-a-Seam 2 is a fusible glue sheet backed between 2 pieces of paper. You peel off one side, place your fabric on the glue, and it will stick of its own accord. Then you cut out your shapes. It leaves you with pieces much like color forms. You peel off the other piece of paper and you can place your pieces as you like.

When you’re happy with your placement, you can iron down your pieces. You’ll want a Teflon pressing cloth, because the glue will seep through your piece. Iron thoroughly on a medium-high Steam setting. You can clean the pressing cloth with a ScotchBrite Blue Scrubby for non stick surfaces.

All of that leaves you ready to stitch. I’m working with a zigzag stitch. Each petal needs to be outlined and detailed, but it really doesn’t matter in what order. So I can change the areas by petal so that I’m using different threads from my thread range across the flower.

Why go to the trouble of making the flower into an applique? Because after all that stitching, it’s going to pucker up and want a kiss. Cut off all those stabilizers, and you’ll have a flat and lovely flower for your quilt.

Want to see this completed? You’ll find the whole project on my Patreon Page.

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Thermal Shock: Eye Opening Color

| ellenanneeddy

One of the hardest things in embroidery work is to get over the match instinct. After years of perfectly matching thread to my project, I’ve had to learn to pick out the highest contrast threads to make an image that really shows up.

In embroidery, contrast is everything. If it all mushes together color-wise, then you have a very mushy image indeed. Smooth color exchanges that are analogous and sit next to each other on the color wheel are pretty. But they don’t have much punch. So what you want is color that builds not on similarities but on differences. There are several kinds of contrast: color, tone, clarity, and temperature.

Today we’re talking about color, which is simply the hue and temperature. Is it red, blue, or yellow? Or an odd shade of green? It’s not as simple as it looks. There are a million reds, blues, and yellows. They are not the same.

Thermal shock is about the temperature of a color. Every color, no matter whether it is a cool or warm color, leans either towards having a cool or warm cast. It doesn’t matter if it’s a cool color or a warm color. There are cool yellows, there are hot blues. If all the colors are either cool or warm they’ll flow into each other like analogous colors. But if they’re not? You get thermal shock. It’s like standing in a cold-water sprinkler on a steaming, hot day. The effect is kind of visually electric.

Blue and Yellow Don’t Make Green is an excellent book explaining thermal variations and how that creates differing colors. It’s set for watercolor, but it applies to all color theory. It’s a worthy book.

So along with the different hues, there are shade and sun versions of primaries. I’ve been playing with them on this phoenix.

I wanted this bird to jump off the surface. I’d decided to outline with in a yellow that leans into the sun to give it some definition. But I wanted it showy. So the colors I picked, cool orange, cool and warm yellows, cool and warm blues left it shimmery and gave it impact.

So here’s another contrast. All that bright sky and bird against misty grey clouds.

For a final contrast, I put small trees up and down the river, to have that clear cool green against all the soft clouds and the fiery bird.

Always look for contrasts. Blending is beautiful, but to give a piece impact with something as small as a line of stitchery, you need heavy contrast, either in hue, value, or temperature. It creates a pathway through your quilt. But it also makes your stitching shine.

1211-26 Drifting

| ellenanneeddy
1211-26 Drifting
44” x38″
$ 4,080
Materials: Hand-dyed cotton, felt, stabilizers, commercial sheers, polyester, metallic, nylon threads, oilpaint stick
Techniques: Machine pieced, machine embroidered, embroidered appliqué, quilted, texture rubbing,  hand dye, cord binding, direct appliqué

Purchase this quilt on Etsy!

Am I Biased? Making an Angular Border

| ellenanneeddy

In working on the Octopus Roclets. I’ve felt a need for angles. They just do’t stay still. And the easiest way to make something feel like it’s in movement is for it to be at an angle.

Which angle? They do read differently. I want to try an isosceles triangle, made from an elongated rectangular strip. I think it will add to the movement of the piece.

Angles mean bias. We talk about fabric being on the straight of grain. If you tore a strip off the fabric, that strip is the straight of grain. That’s a fairly stable piece of fabric. It will stretch very mildly across the width and not at all in the length.

Here’s the definitions of bias from ai on Google.

Fabric bias is any diagonal direction across a woven fabric, while the “true bias” sits at a precise 45-degree angle to the lengthwise and crosswise threads. Cutting or binding on the bias gives the fabric natural elasticity and a fluid, body-hugging drape. [1, 2, 3]

Understanding Bias

True Bias: The diagonal 45° cut between the two; this is where the fabric is most stretchy and flexible. [1, 2, 3, 4]

Lengthwise Grain: Runs parallel to the finished edge (selvage) and has almost no stretch.

Crosswise Grain: Runs perpendicular to the selvage and has slight give.

If we cut our borders across at an angle, that edge will stretch because it’s bias. We really don’t want that. Bias stretches out and makes for wavey borders and seams.

Controlling Bias

Accurate cutting will help. I need to square up my center and use my rotary cutter to make clean edges. But the secret weapon is starch.

Starching your fabric makes it stitch better. And it makes it stretch less.

Here’s the mock up I did to try this out.

Making angled borders

I used:

A center rectangle or square.
A strip of fabric twice the size of your border and a bit longer than your center piece

Liquid spray starch,I’m using Linet Starch.


Tools:
Rotary cutter, ruler and mat
Sewing machine with straight stitch and quarter-inch foot
Iron or rolling seam presser

I starched the two fabrics with a solution of 1-1 starch and water

I cut the yellow strip in half and then cut the strips fro corner to corner diagnally.

For more information about starch, see Getting Fabric Straight.

I pressed my seams with a rolling seam presser

I trimmed my edges square to make

a slightly angled background.

I’ve added shell and rock rubbings to the bottom

Here’s where we think the octopuses will go.

I’m still deciding about that. But I’m happy I tilted the background. It creates the motion I wanted.

More Pop Octs: Dancing with Design

| ellenanneeddy

This has been a rough week of a lot of medical appointments. Nothing bad. Just exhausting and demoralizing.

I’ve stitched the rocket octopuses. I started with a background that reminded me of confetti yarn, bright bits of color on a soft background. So my octs had to be bright where the background was softer. I’m thinking of calling them the Octettes.

But now we’re at the fun point. We get to create the design.

This is the first pin-up. I do several pin-ups with each piece. The first pin-up is just the background and the creatures. With that pin-up, I’ll know my colors, my path and where the creatures interact with each other and the viewer.

The second pin-up is after I add the elemental bits. Usually these are sheer unless they’re rocks. Water, rock, air currents, sunlight. It’s also where I add small elements that help establish my visual path. I’m thinking gold and orange fish.

The third pin-up is my final design. After I do the third pin-up, I’m ready to stitch. And my options are in stone.

So now I can try it all out. Different backgrounds, different octs.

If it’s just one or two possibilities, I pin it up and shoot photos. Here I had a bunch of choices so I photoed the elements and put them into photoshop. It’s a cheap thrill, but it’s much less aerobic.

Here are the ones I like best. I really like the ones swimming in opposite directions. The ones weaving tentacles work best on the larger pieces of fabric. I’m still not sure.

I’ve done this before in a blog called Pin Up Girls: Family Planning for Octopuses. There I was trying out a number of different quilts. This is just one. But it is a good way of looking at options, without having to pin everything up physically.

What do you think?

Popping Up: The Pop Art Element

| ellenanneeddy

I’m not a very abstract person. I’m not good at reducing forms or working without a visual reference. Of course, I’m not always wedded to reality either. I believe that when we stray from a photographic reality, who we are, what we mean, and what we see have a way of coming out to say, “Hi!” And a lot of other chatter as well.

For a long time, reality was the task of art. Up through the Renaissance to modern art, we’ve lauded the ability to make something that looks real. I find that wearing as an artist. If you want complete realism, you probably want photography. You’ll see your image just as it is. Once we had photography, realism stopped being a goal and became something accomplished.

Photography works for the surface. It fails me for movement, for mood, for expansion off the canvas, and for the feeling it gives me. I have nothing against photography. But it usually leaves me a little cold.

So once we left realism as the only goal, there was room for all kinds of experimentation.

One of the experiments was Pop Art. There were many versions of this. One was to repeat an image in rows or patterns in bright colors. This is Andy Warhol.

Andy Warhol, Converse Tennis Shoes

I’m not interested in tennis shoes, but I do want to see what happens if I put repetitious octopuses in bright colors together. This is the first octopus. The plan is to put four together. I’m not sure if I’ll use rows or weave their tentacles together.

The colors on the octopuses echo the hand-dyed fabric I’m using. They have a light source that shifts the colors through the tentacles.

Here are three more in different states of completion. When we’re done, we’ll see what pops up.