I love organza and lace for natural elements. I can make water easily with some fusible and sheers. I cut c shapes in various sizes and colors, and fit them into pond or river water.
This is a process I usually do right before I put on my embroidered components. I get everything embroidered, so I’m sure it fits in, and then add the elements (air, wind, water, clouds, smoke) to the background itself before I stitch down any of the embroideries. Only after tthe sheers are stitched on, do I stitch the components down.
There is one problem with that. It leaves my fish and reeds all out of the water. They are in front of the water, but not in it.’
What I’m looking for is the feeling of layers. I usually cut c shapes and swirls. Then I mix them together until I have water amalgamated with different temperatures and depths.
If you think about real water, it’s always in layers. You put your toes in, and maybe you feel the sun warmed top layer, Go further in, and the lower levels feel colder. How do we express that as art? I think the deeper the colors are, the colder they feel. We can make layered water, warm on the top, but colder as we go further in.
So the last thing I often do is to lay a few pieces of organza and lace over top of the fish. Not completely. but enough that they’re completely clearly in the water.
20 weight cheesecloth with organza trapped underneath
I’ve used cheesecloth for years. It’s an unexpectedly versatile sheer that dyes beautifully, takes iron heat, and fuses easily. It’s a studio staple for me. When I dye other fabric, I almost always dye a fresh batch of cheesecloth.
40 weight cheesecloth flower
But I wasn’t aware that there were different kinds. No one ever mentioned that it came in different grades. I just bought the box I found at Joann’s. If it had a grade marking, I missed it. My guess is that it would have been perhaps grade 40.
The grades have to do with the purpose of the cheesecloth. As the name suggests, it’s about how it’s used in food prep.
“Grade 10: The thinnest and most open weave, ideal for applications requiring good airflow and water drainage, such as straining some types of broth or when a very open weave is needed for crafting.
Grade 40: A versatile medium-weight cheesecloth, good for general food straining, polishing, and crafting.
Grade 50: Another versatile option, often used for food prep and crafts.
Grade 60: Suitable for straining, polishing, and cleaning, and is also used in testing for fire hazards.
Grade 90: The most durable and tightly woven, suitable for tasks requiring strength and fine filtration, like making cheese or nut milk. It’s also washable and reusable, making it a good choice for repeated use in the kitchen.
Grade 100: The highest grade, providing the tightest weave and greatest durability.
The grade number reflects the number of threads per square inch, with higher numbers indicating a denser weave according to Organic Cotton Mart. For example, Grade 10 has 20 x 12 threads per square inch, while Grade 90 has 44 x 36 threads per square inch according to Online Fabric Store. “
The box I bought before must have been a 1. It was wide open, pilled easily and very formless.
#20 Cheesecloth pine trees.
My last box was 60 You can actually iron it onto fabric without a pressing cloth.
Your best clue for unmarked cheesecloth is the usage they suggest for it. If they’re making craft ghosts out of it, you know it’s a lower grade. If they’re straning jam with it, it’s a 90-100,
60 weight cheesecloth leaves
What will I do with that information? I’m almost tempted to have several grades in the studio for different applications. Cheesecloth is my go to for leaves and flowers. Nothing is as light or as easy to iron on and the texture is fabulous. But it never occurred to me that it came in different textures. I have a fish that will need some surf to swim through. It may end up as cheesecloth to the rescue.
Arkwright Cheesecloth was the one that was most clearlly marked on Amazon, and the widest number of choices.
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’ve been a long time follower of the visual path. Our eye travels through a piece of art and makes its own journey. We can build that visual path with our objects and their placement.
A good visual path
should welcome you into that world,
should give you a good tour, covering the surface of the piece.
should graciously show you the way out.
should breathe.
But part of that pathway is perception. How does the structure of the design direct us to travel on that path? Where do we start?
There are some other good questions as well. What makes an entry point? How do we travel? Are we released from the piece at some point? Or does it try to make us stay focused within the piece?
I’ve begun to think about how we enter a piece when we see it. Where does the eye start? Does it make a difference? Being a good dyslexic, I always thought it didn’t, but I’m thinking I was wrong.
As Westerners, we read left to right. So do we enter a project visually from the left and travel over to the right hand side? And what does that do within the language of the piece? What does that positioning tell us?
Handedness is pretty hardwired, but some of it is cultural. We can see an image either from either left or right like flipping a slide. But how do we normally process that?
What matters is what we see first. Where does it direct us to look?
If it faces directly in front of us, that sort of stops the motion right there. We are where we are.
If the subject is facing us, headed left, we see it as the main object.
If the piece is standing facing from left to right, we see it as a main object, but we also see what it is focused on.
The entry point is either a spot that focus us for being open, or for grabbing our attention.
For our purposes, the red arrow is the entry point and the yellow arrows point out the path.
The bird is our entry point. We see what she sees. She’s focused on a pond beneath here.The rocks circle the pond, defining it, but also drawing our eye around it.
Our entry point leads us straight to the mocking bird facing left. . Her glance takes us around the piece following the lizards.
This is just a theory so far. I’m curious what you think about it. How does the facing of the subject change the story of the piece. What is the structural language? What are we saying?
So this is drawn with the eyes facing left. When it’s embroidered, it will be flipped horizontally and it will face to the right. We’ll be in a position to see the world as the fish does.
I’m not sure about this yet. It’s a theory. I’m curious to see what you think as well.
This has been a burning question for me over the last 6 months. I live and die by my sewing machines. It’s what I do. I sew every day around 4-5 hours a day.
Over that time, I;ve locked up 2 220s, 2 930s and a 770, all Berninas known to be tough and durable. I’ve felt like a general who’s horse has died, getting on another horse and inadvertently shooting the new one. It’s been ghastly.
What it’s about is the intense embroideries. They feel like the heart of my work. They’re intense, detailed, textured, and, pardon my vanity, show stopping.
I can’t seem to make them without breaking machines.
I went through this a long time ago. I burned the brushes off my 930 and bought an industrial 20U Singer. It was not a perfect answer. It was way too fast. It chomped through thread. It was incredibly noisy. And impossible to control.
Eventually, I stopped making those larger embroideries.
Lately I’ve needed to work those large embroideries. And we rescued the 20 U from where I left it at Porter.
It was the right decision. Don put a servo motor on it to slow it down. It did a very nice job with my #40 polyester threads.
What is a servo motor?
I’m not sure of the mechanics of the thing. Functionaly it’s an industrial motor with a rhiostat. You can adjust the speed to your taste. It’s infinately more quiet, and takes up a lot less energy.
I wouldn’t say it was the right thing for everyone.
What can an industrial machine offer you?
It is
An incredibly tough machine
An incredibly fast machine
An extra wide zigzag stitch
Those are very different skillls from a home machine.
There is a down side.
They are huge. They take up a large footprint in studio space.
They are harder to manuver. I’m still finding my way about managing stitch angle with it.
Unless you slow them down, they’re too fast for many threads and applications. The servo motor is the best way to control that.
You can’t pick it up and take it to a mechanic. You’ll need to fix it yourself or find a mechanic who does house calls.
They’re kind of crude. They’re rough machines mechanically. Simple to work with but they’re not sophisticated.
Don made this work for me by installing a servo motor. That motor is a miracle. So is Don. I’m grateful for both.
Am I sorry to be working with an older machine? No. They don’t change that much. As far as the changes in machines over the last 50 years, the most important one was being able to set needle up, needle down. With the servo motor, it’s in excellent fighting shape. These machines are indestructable.
Am I thrilled? Yes. Downside and all, I can tackle those big pieces without making a collection of broken sewing machines. Will I use if for everything? Probably not. Again, hard to control.
Want to come play with my new machine? Give me a call and come over. It’s like running a tyranasarus that sews.
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 love big quilts. I know my definition of big is not large for those doing bed quilts. I consider a 45″ x 36″ piece large. This is a big larger than that, probably around 45″ square.
I also am terrified of them. A large quilt is a commitment. It’s at least 2 weeks- 2 months of time and energy. If it works, that’s fine. If it isn’t, that time, energy and material is lost. It’s not exactly wasted. It’s education, and education has its costs. But it is demoralizing.
There are also a lot of components in this piece: the spoonbill, fish, birds, wisteria, and iris fronds. They can all look great if they’re place precisely. Placing them precisely is not simple. You have to look at it up on a wall.The view on a quilt on a flat surface is distorted. You can’t see the design well enough.
So a larger piece is a bit scary. They’re harder to design, because it’s harder to see what you’re doing. So I took my time on this piece. The bird is great. Getting her into her pond is a bit harder.
I’ve pinned this piece up 3 times. Partially because needed to use the wall for something else. Partially because I wasn’t sure. In the end I ended up tilting the legs and the iris leaves to emphasize the visual path on this.
This is where a black and white picture comes in. Seeing things in black and white makes a lot of things more clear. I get distracted in the color, and the black and white shows what really is and isn’t popping.
Hopefully she’s in her proper place. She’s mostly stitched down, so it’s what it is.
For those of you who have been following along, you know we had a machine crisis for most of last year. It turns out that what I’m doing is really hard on machines. I’m finding my modern machines are just not up to the challenge.
Enter Ebay and Don!
Don found me a newly restored 930 Bernina, It’s a love. It’s still not a strong enough machine for the denser embroideries, but that’s ok. We have a servo motor for the old industrial Singer 20u. Don says he will be ready to start the switch on the motors perhaps next week.
1169-25 In the Shell
So in celebration for the new baby, and because I finally had the right tool, I got In the Shell finally bound.
Do you remember the feeling when you got a new box of 64 crayons? That’s a large enough number that they had some with silly names like Mac and Cheese. Open up the box. Choose your color. Instant antidepressant!
This quilt had the same effect. It got me through machine withdrawal, over the last months.
Madiera has a line of polyester embroidery thread called Neon. It isn’t all neon color. There are restrained greys and browns. But there are some kick ass oranges, yellows, greens, pinks, and reds, You get the idea.
This quilt was a mood lifter. Partially because I love the idea of a baby octopus in a shell, and partially because the colors could knock socks off.
Between the machine and those colors, I’m feeling so much better now.
Never be afraid to use the brightest, boldest colors. They’re not only lovely. They’re good fiber for your diet. And they fight depression. Eat the rainbow!
I haven’t made a lot of shells before. Starfish, yes. Jellyfish, inevitable. I find shells daunting. They’re not easy to draw, and they can’t be made to look like they’re moving. So this was an experiment.
Designg for contrast
One way to look at design is how to separate the field from the ground. You need to create differences that help the eye sort out what it’s looking at. The shells should be immediately different from the octopus and the sea.
This quilt required a shell for the octopus, And a tangible difference between them to be visually clear. The way to make things pop is to create a visual difference between differnt design elements of color, texture and size.
The color palate makes a clear separationg. The octopus is strongly orange, contrasted by the complemetary blue sea, and the off white and browns of the shells.
But we can make that contrast even stronger through the texture. Texture is made by stitching patterns, thread content, and thread size. Those design decisions clarify the design.
Shells are deeply textured with a smooth inside. I didn’t show the shiny insides of these shells. So the outsides needed to be crunchy and rough.
So the octopus is garnet stitch in polyester thread. The shells are out of both wound and flecked metallic threads. The threads contrast strongly. Metallic thread is much rougher than the smooth polyester. Both threads are 40 weight.
I also used a zigzagged scallop pattern for the shells. I stitched the rows irregularly with ribbed veins, so they’d seem more natural.
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The water is stiched with an 8 weight metallic to separate it from the shells and the octopus.
Thread choices help the eye separate the shells, the octopus, and the water, ‘It helps your viewer unnderstand what is happening in your piece in a glance.
This piece is ready to back and bind. I’m just waiting for a cool enough day.
